The Nature Call: What lurks below the ice may be fascinating

The spring bobber on the end of the pole dipped and relaxed, then dipped and relaxed again.

I called for my son to come, 'you've got a bite!' His vigil had been brief. At present he was excitedly helping drill holes all over the pond for the sheer pleasure of it. It was as if he was a prospector and expecting something exciting to come gushing out of a new hole.

Alas, by the time he returned and fetched his rod, the line had been still for too long. The jig came clear of the hole — no fish. Unfazed he returned to his drilling.

What nibbled at his offering? Was it still there?

An ice-angler has many questions.

Midwinter Iowa can be so bleak. Especially in a cold winter without snow. A frozen pond seems as lifeless as a picked soybean field. Yet such an assumption is wrong.

Beneath the ice is another world. A world of action, albeit subdued. To stand on a frozen pond is to stride a universe. Like our own universe, it's hard to appreciate how complex and dynamic it is. Under the water, or across the cosmos, tools are essential for probing the mysteries: Books, of course, and telescopes for the latter. But what for the former?

Some of the mysteries of the wet winter world are revealed by electronics. Underwater cameras and handheld sonars revolutionized ice fishing from a staid pastime into a sport.

Sonars show movement below, but no images. Intuitively, the camera would seem best. To see the comings and going of fish, to notice how they stare at your bait before making a decision, to see the live action of the world below, how interesting.

Yet overwhelmingly anglers use the sonar 'flasher' system. In part because they are simple and rugged devices. But also because a camera is worthless in most Iowa waters.

In addition to excess nitrogen, phosphorus and fecal bacteria, sediment and invasive carp conspire to reduce water clarity. The sonar 'sees' through the filth, the camera would just show you a cloud.

But if you could, what could you see in the chilly water world? Sure, you would notice your familiar fish and plants. But looking closer would reveal the very small fish that course our waters with a style all their own.

If the Brook Stickleback or Johnny Darter grew to football size, then they would haunt the dreams of fishermen. Closer and smaller still are the multitudes of insects in their various stages of development, hunting and hunted like almost everything else. Even smaller are the tiniest beasts, zooplankton. Their futuristic-looking bodies could inspire writers of science fiction. The zooplankton prey on the very base of our food chain, the phytoplankton. Even the best ice camera and clear water can't see them. Yet they are there, even under the ice, responding to the goings of the sun. They are a mirror to the universe above.

We left the pond with fond memories and no fish, a satisfactory exchange in my book. The next time I bore a hole in the ice I could just as well close my eyes and think about the activity below than patiently watch the pole. Perhaps I can dream with one eye closed and watch with the other? At any rate, I will be wondering about what lies beneath.

Looking up, looking ahead, and keeping my pencil sharp.