Things along the Upper River slow down in the winter, but never come to a standstill. With the first hard freeze of the backwater lakes and sloughs, as the window-pane ice thickens into plate glass just strong enough to bear a man's weight, some rivermen go turtle-hunting. Easing over this thin ice and winter-clear water that is only a couple of feet deep, the hunters watch for snapping turtles that haven't completely buried themselves in the mud. A heavy iron rod sharpened at one end with the other bent into a hook is driven through the ice, turtle, and all. The turtles are at their yearly prime
Up on the River by John Madson
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