Oshkosh High School - Index Yearbook (Oshkosh, WI)

Page 24 text:

DECEMBER INDEX FOR NINETEEN HUNDRED SIXTEEN formed during the night in the holes which he had chopped the day before. A willow has been frozen into the ice beside each hole and slants out over it. From each of these willows a line, on the end of which are two hooks baited with minnows and spread apart by a wire, extends down into the water. The first line had been placed in a shallow spot and a bit too near the bottom, for the drag on it proved to have been produced by a lizard, called, in the common vernacular, a mud-puppy. The Boy disgustedly snaps him off from the hook, re-baits it and lowers it into the water again, being careful to shorten the line a bit before leaving for the next hole. It had been an intensely cold night and the fish had moved into the deeper water, so the next line, which had been placed in a deep hole, has something on the end of it which pulls and jerks as no lizard has ever been known to do. The Boy, carefully pulling in the line, sees a dark shape below the hole and the next moment throws a pike out upon the ice, its yellow sides glistening in the sun as he flops convulsively, only to slowly stiffen and freeze, for fish freeze quite readily in very cold weather, and, if they are placed in a pan of water and allowed to thaw out, will swim about as lively as ever, apparently none the worse for their experience. Through the ice at the next hole the Boy could see the line stretched taut and twisting and circling under the ice. He chopped excitedly at the ice, and, the line released, the willow bent in a graceful curve until its tip touched the water as the finny prey made a frantic rush toward the deepest hole in the bayou. With an excited gasp the Boy seized the line and allowed the fish to swim about until he was exhausted and could be brought into sight below the hole. Bending over the hole, he caught a glimpse of a long black, shadowy shape as the frightened fish darted away in another vain attempt to escape. But! Scaly shades of Isaac Walton I There were two of them! He forgot everything but the sight of those two black shapes in the grey-green water below and frantically pulled them through the hole and threw them out upon the snow, a huge wall-eyed pike and a long, graceful pickerel. Now he did not stop to re-bait the hooks, but hurried on to the next hole, and the next, until all had been opened. Then he hurried over to the grove of willows on the opposite bank and sought for dry branches. With the aid of the bottle of kerosene hidden at the foot of the huge willow in the middle of the thicket a fire was soon blaz- ing cheerily. Kerosene is the surest means of starting a fire with snow- incrusted, frozen wood, and it is rather annoying to nurse a few sparks to a feeble glow when one ' s hands and feet are wet and cold, and the temperature is several degrees below zero. The Boy warmed himself and while eating his lunch contemplated the morning ' s catch, seven pike and the pickerel, which hung from a nearby Page twenty-t% ' 0

Page 23 text:

DECE-MBER INDEX Naaixis asuQMnH N33iH.vi.y aoj The Boy (Ice Fishing) MANY times on those short winter days the Boy trudged through the village and down along the lane that led to the bridge across the bayou and beyond, out onto the vast marsh in the distance. On this particular day he stopped at the bridge for a moment to drink in great draughts of the crisp, cold air. He thought of the tales his father loved to relate of how, when he himself was but a boy, he had caught fabulous strings of perch and bullhead from this very same bridge. The Bayou Bridge it was called by the older inhabitants of the village. It was built entirely of logs and was suspended a few feet above the water — the water which now flowed among fairy ice-palaces far below the surface of the snow-covered ice which stretched white and unbroken to north and south. Leaving the road the Boy turned to the south to follow the smooth, white surface which betokened the course of the bayou. On either side stretched banks and ponds, rushes and brush; their outlines half revealed, half concealed by the new-fallen snow. Farther off to the west could be seen a grove of trees, their bare branches voicing a ceaseless complaint to the blustering wind. Soon the Boy, following the cut in its hugh half circle, was traveling toward the west, and, having left the friendly shelter of the trees and underbrush, first felt the true force of the wind. It was strong and icy cold and he had need of his warm woolen garments here. His feet, encased in several pairs of thick, knit socks and a pair of beaded moccasins, left huge, unshapely prints on the otherwise unmarked surface of the snow. He had now reached the first bayou, a large, pear-shaped body of water fringed with sweet flag, wild rice, and cat-tails — a favorite feeding place of wild fowl in the autumn, but much too shallow to serve as a habi- tation for fish in winter, when it is frozen to nearly one-half of its depth. Sweeping a spot bare with his foot, the Boy could look down through the ice and see the green moss and water plants waving about as if they, too, felt the gusts of blustering wind even in their quiet vaults beneath the imprisoning ice crystals. But the Boy thought of the lines which he had set the day before and hurried forward through the second cut and across the second bayou, through its fringe of crackling, snow-incrusted reeds and across the inter- vening marsh to the Old River. The Old River, properly speaking, is no river at all, but merely a long, half-moon shaped bayou, which marks the former course of the Fox river; the river having changed its course and left this bayou — a veritable fisherman ' s paradise. Sliding down the steep bank in a flurry of snow, the Boy throws down his gun and lunch, and, with his ice chisel, attacks the ice which has Page twent ' -one

Page 25 text:

DECEMBER INDEX FOR NINETEEN HUNDRED SIXTEEN branch. To be sure, two of the pike were sand pike and rather small, but the others were huge, golden, wall-eyed fellows and the pickerel was surely a beauty. Warm and drowsy by the fire, he fell into a reverie, wondering how long it would be before the fish would move back into the shallow water, and hoping he would get no more mud-puppies. He thought, too, how, on the one line, the wall-eye had probably taken the bait during the night, and the pickerel, the wolf of the waters, in an early morning raid had descried the other minnow in the murky water and voraciously attacked it, expecting to secure it before the pike, whom he evidently thought was also pursuing it, could reach it. But the ravenous old fellow had been hooked, and, in his mad rushes through the water, had towed the less restive pike back and forth behind him. But suddenly the Boy arose and kicked the logs apart, slung his ice chisel across his shoulders, picked up his catch and gun and started on his triumphal march home, for the sun was setting. Far off the forest-covered hills looked grey and cold and near at hand the lights were ceasing to dance on the snow and flash from the tiny ice-drops, for night was spread- ing her gray mantle over the huge, white blanket of the snow. Less and less distinct grew the far-off hills, until they became only a distant gray blur and then slowly faded entirely from the sight. Lights began to twinkle here and there in the village, but the Boy saw them not, for his mind, exalted by the quiet peace and beauty of the night, dwelt not with this mean earthly existence but with the Great Creator of it all. Faintly, yet near at hand, he seemed to hear The still, sad music of humanity. Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chosen and subdue. Softly, almost stealthily, the moon came up over the hills; her silvery beams danced from a million tiny snow crystals and everything stood out with cameo-like distinctness; once more the earth was light. Leonard Bradt, ' 17. The Christmas of Two In a rich man ' s home the mother was putting a little boy to bed, telling him of Santa ' s coming with many toys for him, and how in the morning he would awake and find all these beautiful and costly things. In the poor man ' s home the mother was singing her little boy to sleep, telling him that Santa would not stop, but they had a present. Then she told him of the Christ child ' s birthplace and said he was their present this Christmas day. R. S., ' 20. Page twenty-three