The snow covered ground was their perfect playground. Even better was The Pond now encased in layers of frozen water. Each layer a different hue. Each layer contained remnants of frostbitten leaves. Each layer filled with bubbles largest on the bottom growing smaller as the surface neared.
Out of the darkness shrieks from tiny mouths could be heard over the pond. The full moon shed light on wee creatures stumbling down from the warmth of the ole Maple. These weren’t your average creatures of the night for these had two legs not four, and were dressed in feathers and furballs warding off the bitter cold. Three wee creatures, out for a night of frolicking.
Settling down across The Pond I wrap me face in the thick scarf so this frosty breath won’t be seen, leaving only slits for the eyes. Eyes wide with wonderment as I gaze on this site and await for the magic to begin !
Two of the wee ones dragged a spider web wrapped bag. Tis a tad heavy for even I can hear their grunts and groans. Onto the ice they slide. Deciding on a spot under the Acacia where the ice is clear the bag is unwrapped. The biggest of the three though they aren’t that tall, 4” high if an inch, grapple this tool newly unwrapped.
The two smaller ones and being the workers of the three wrestled for a bit each taking hold of the wooden ends propping up this thingie on its point. The third, obviously the leader designated so with the white owl feather in his furry cap shouts out “ up, up, hold er straight !”
Moaning under its weight the two slide back then fore trying to get its pointy end to take hold in the ice. “yes! Lads ye ave it !” “keep it straight now” dancing with glee the third one sings. “now remember the jig we learned from our grandfather?” “ swing around, swing around, swing around thee“
With the third keeping beat the two danced round and round twisting the tool into the ice. This was easy once they found the rhythm.
Not a moment too soon, the tool broke thru and water spewed forth. Shaking off the droplets the two pulled the tool out. The third drew from his sack threads of wool with olive thorns tied to each end. Down the hole these threads were dropped.
Giggling and nudging each other all three shared smirks and smiles. This will be a good night of ice fishing thanks to our human friend who left the uncorker behind.
AHA! I thought to meself. My long lost corkscrew has found a new use.