Primal Instinct

I have a firm belief that clichés and stereotypes exist because for the most part they are true. The Mud Puddle continues to embody this theory (and thereby encouraging me to come up with even MORE theories and share them with people at random) much to my delight.
Men are stereotypically hunter/gatherers. Or so anthropology would have us believe. The Mud Puddle has lit up that strand of DNA in full force.

A little history for you: My parents have a cabin on a lake (I call it “Sanctuary” and it is my happy place, my favorite place in the world. When I was having the Mud Puddle removed it was what I thought of to try and distract from the discomfort of passing a nine and a half pound elephant out of my gut) and it sits next to a nice little cove. In all the years they have had the camp (20 years? HOLY CRAP!) the number of fish caught in said cove and surrounding lake area can probably be counted on one hand. I myself spent three days, $25 worth of night crawlers and countless expletives to catch a 3” fish once. Back in the summer of 2001. Yup, my one and only catch at camp. Fishing at camp has become more about spending time doing nothing but casting and reeling in then actually providing food for your family.

That all changed this past weekend. We were at camp for our annual snowmobile ride/freeze our butts off (40 below with the wind chill! The current 24 above is downright BALMY in comparison) hang out fest. Scott and I went for the good part of the snowmobile ride (From car to lunch to collection of ‘swag bag’) while Grampy and the Mud Puddle decided to ‘ice fish’. I put this in quotes b/c seriously, there was no delusion on anyone’s part that a fish might actually be caught.

It was all about cutting a hole in the ice, baiting a hook and watching the flag from the comforts of camp with a cup of hot chocolate. But then the amazing, improbable occurred. The Mud Puddle caught a fish. And not some dinky 3” like me. It was a good 15” long brook trout. And he helped pull it out of the water (it flew out of the hole apparently at break neck speed). He watched while Grampy cleaned it and reminded us to cook it up that evening.
We all had a bite and in my opinion it was delicious. And I wasn’t in a fishy kind of mood.
The Mud Puddle then was all high energy I think in large part to the protein boost and adrenaline rush of fulfilling his instinct of providing for himself and the rest of us. In addition to the fantasy of his future as a Major League soccer player, stand up comedian, and hockey player I can now daydream about his Big Bass special on the Outdoor Network.