Dekker on Ice Fishing
The calendar insists spring is near, though the yard has not yet agreed. Sometimes, when the snow lingers longer than anyone thinks reasonable, I ask Dekker to weigh in.
You might wonder why.
After all, he is a dog. He cannot hold a pen. He does not check the calendar. He has no theological training, no degrees in psychology, and no particular interest in productivity systems. What he does have is a nose close to the ground and a steady loyalty to what is real.
Over the years, people have written to him. At first it was a bit of fun. A lighthearted exchange in the midst of heavier topics—illness, aging, disappointment, hope. But something unexpected happened. Readers began to look forward to his replies. They said he helped them see things differently. That he made them smile without minimizing what hurt. That somehow, through his simple observations, the complicated edges of life softened.
I think part of his appeal is this: he is not trying to fix anyone. He does not rush. He does not preach. He notices.
From the floor.
And from that vantage point, he sees what we often miss—small consistencies in the middle of change, warmth in cold seasons, love that does not melt even when the snow does not seem to move.
In Maine, winter does not release its grip quickly. The yard is still white. The wind still carries a bite. And yet, each time he goes out for what I call “necessary business,” he reads the snow like a newspaper—deer, turkeys, fox, raccoon, squirrels—evidence that life continues even when it appears paused.
That feels like a lesson worth hearing.
So once again, I have handed the page over to him. Or perhaps I should say, I have lowered the page to the floor.
Because sometimes wisdom does not come from the podium.
It comes from a warm body by the door, waiting patiently for spring.
— Ardis
Question from Wesley
“Dekker, I like to ice fish with my grandpa.
See the trout we caught??
How do animals stay alive under the ice?”
Woof Woof, Wesley,
First of all, I think ice fishing is a very patient activity. I am not built for staring at one small hole in the ice. I would prefer a larger hole. Perhaps one shaped like a big bone. But you ask a good question.
Under the ice, the fish slow down. They do not panic about a lake with a roof. They wait for warmth the way I wait for supper…calmly. (Mostly.)
Animals are very good at waiting. Right now they are waiting for spring. Not only fish but all wild animals.
Some creatures burrow into mud. Some sleep more. Some grow thick coats like mine and pretend they meant to look fluffy all along. Life does not stop because there is ice all around. It adjusts.
Do you think sometimes humans forget they can slow down, too?
When you sit with your grandpa and the wind blows across the lake, you are learning something important. Not just about fish. About stillness. About time. About being together without needing many words.
That is a kind of warmth that works even in February.
Woof.
Question from Linda
“Why does it take so long for spring to come?
How do I keep from being bored inside?”
Woof Woof, Linda,
I have noticed that humans believe staring at the calendar makes the snow melt faster. It does not.
Winter feels long because everything is quieter. Fewer walks. Fewer visitors. Less mud to track in (this one is a small blessing for my person).
When I am stuck inside, I invent small adventures. I patrol the windows. I reorganize my toys. I nap in three different locations to test the sunlight angles. Important research.
Boredom is sometimes just energy with nowhere to run.
Could you invent small adventures too? Rearrange a room. Call a friend. Bake something that smells good. Read a book out loud to yourself. (I enjoy being read to, even if I do not understand every word.)
Spring always comes. But while you wait, there are tiny seasons inside your house. Have you noticed them?
Woof.
Question from Arthur
“Do we age faster in winter?
It feels that way.”
Woof Woof, Arthur,
Winter makes everything move slower. And when things move slower, you notice more.
Your knees speak up. Your back has opinions. Your conversations wander to the past more easily when the world outside is white and still.
But I do not think you age faster in winter.
I think winter removes distractions.
When I was younger, I bounded into snowbanks just because I could. Now I step more carefully. The snow did not make me older. It simply shows me how I am moving today.
Humans often fear the noticing.
But noticing is not the same as decline. It can be wisdom settling in your bones. It can be experience choosing a slower path. It can be learning when not to leap.
Does spring make you younger? Or does it simply make you busier?
Woof.
Question from Marjorie
“All these questions about winter,
but I think spring is just about here.
Do dogs ever do spring cleaning?”
Woof Woof, Marjorie,
Absolutely.
First, we shed. Everywhere. It is a generous offering. You are welcome.
Second, we revisit our buried treasures. That bone from November? Still excellent. Possibly improved.
Third, we sniff everything as if it has just arrived. The yard becomes new again. The air smells different. The squirrels grow bold.
Spring cleaning for a dog is not about scrubbing floors. It is about re-introducing ourselves to the world.
Humans clean closets. Dogs clean perspective.
When the snow melts, I do not think about the long winter. I simply step into the grass and begin again.
Could you do that too?
Woof.
Woof Woof, Friends,
If you are waiting for spring the way I am, keep your nose low and your heart steady. There are tracks in the snow…or mud… even now.
Perhaps while you wait, you could notice one small sign of change…a longer stretch of light, a softer wind, a bud thinking about opening. I will be watching too.
And if you have a question for a dog who spends much of his time on the floor, send it along. I cannot promise brilliance. But I can promise listening.
Until next time, may your bowl be full, your people near, and your winter shorter than it feels.
Woof.
Woof!! Want to read more like this?
