Dad took us ice fishing on Lake Macatawa every winter growing up. We would chisel a small hole through the thick ice and sit on upside down pails, patiently waiting for a bite while talking about life, munching on snacks and freezing. I really didn't think much about the absurdity of this sport until my own son was five years old and the tradition continued...Grandpa, me and grandson, sitting atop a frozen lake on a metal pail next to a small hole waiting for a bite. My son, Matt looked up at my Dad and said, "Grandpa, seriously with this whole big lake, what are the chances of a fish swimming right under my hole and grabbing the hook?" Out of the mouths of babes......