A friend and I were fishing on the Seine River in Manitoba, at the base of a rocky stream which entered the river at a gradual decline. I’d climbed back up along the bank of the stream to fetch an almost forgotten tacklebox, when a silver flash in the water caught my eye.

He’d mentioned that small fish often swim down the stream in that season, so I did what came to mind; dropped the tackle and ran down the streambed, catching the writhing fish in both hands as it attempted to maneuver around a stone.

I think it was my only catch of the day. We had a great laugh about Mad Maxwell’s way of fishing. Pity a seagull stole it off the stringer later in the day.