The sound of rushing water as it slipped smoothly under my boat held me spellbound.  Wind gusts sang over the humming motor, propelling me to my destination.

     Somewhere in the back of my mind, just out of reach, "too good to be true" whispered its warning!  Could the gulps of crisp air, as it filled my lungs and brushed my face, really mean winter was over?  What miracle had blessed me with such an early spring?

     I checked for my rod and reel.  There it was, at my side.  The thought of my first cast out was the elation that sent shivers down my spine.  But when would I reach the spot I wanted to fish?  How could it be taking so long to get there?  Something was terribly wrong.  The back of my mind tugged at me.  The sound of rushing water...the breaths of crisp spring air...

     It was pitch dark!  The room...small and cold...very cold!  I took it all in at once.  Eyes popping wide with reality, I threw the covers back, upsetting two curled balls of pet kitties.  My rod and reel turned into a robe and slippers.  The clock read 3:00 a.m.  A north wind howled outside in gusts of 30 to 40 miles per hour, while the thermometer on the outside deck grimmaced 35 degrees below zero.  A quick glance at the inside thermostat showed 52 degrees.  But none of this was my main concern.  It was the terrifying sight I beheld as I flung the kitchen door open to the garage, that let me know I wasn't dreaming anymore. 

     My bedroom wall is also the garage wall, which is adjacent to the water softening unit.  That beautiful sound of rushing, open-lake water turned into a frozen, burst pipe spewing my "spring lake" out onto the garage floor.  Which, in turn, rapidly froze over, just like the lake I lived on.

     What could I do but set out tip-ups?  What could I catch but that elusive mythological fish called a "shack-happy" (Hibernatus longtermus)!

     Now I had always practiced catch, photo and release whenever possible, which is most of the time, but with a "shack-happy" it's different.  I caught him, I photographed him, but I couldn't get rid of him.   

     Mid-January had arrived and "shack-happy", as we all should know here in the northwoods, can't be released until spring.  He can be subdued at times, but once caught, he doesn't cease to grow bigger.  Shack-happies usually feed on the long, cold days of winter, but they especially like to feed on natural-born, open-water fishermen (and women).

     When ice-fishing, to avoid catching a shack-happy, I've occasionally taken to tracking abominable snowmen and other such northern wildlife.  On one particular outing, I managed to capture a snowman on film.  A very rare photo indeed!  I just may have had a world-record shack-happy by the time spring rolled around, but my snowman was the cure. 

     My secret is that only an abominable snowman can get rid of a shack-happy.  They eat them for lunch!