With a saucy flip of his tail, the three-inch long bass I'd caught at Pigeon Lake took off to become a three-pound keeper.

To grow that big will take him about three years.

I can make him that heavy in the two minutes it takes me to find paper and pen, or someone to listen to my fish story.

There is a printed notice on my workroom wall that says: "God grant I catch a fish so big that even I, when telling of it, wouldn't have to lie."

Another thing that puzzles me is that the little three-incher I caught was hauled in after trying to take a bite of a fishing lure that was bigger than it was.

Apparently Pigeon Lake is noted for the spectacular sunsets that occur there.

Of course, a northern lake with tree-filled islands dotting its deep blue waters is an ideal foreground for a sunset.

That evening, the fiery red sun went down behind a cirrus-cloud sky.

The solid black silhouettes of a small group of youngsters fishing from a dock between the setting sun and my shoreside perch were seemingly a necessity to the glorious picture.

The inclusion of those youthful humans in the painting needed only the soft music of O Canada to make it a memory of mine forever.

On the subject of the continuing loss of brave Canadian soldiers in the Middle East:

"'Tis but an old bit of bunting, 'Tis but a coloured rag,

But thousands have fought for its honour,

And shed their best blood for the flag."

Ted Wilcox is a lifetime Hamiltonian with a passion for sports, community and, most of all, family.