My uncle gently placed his tackle box on the canoe floor.  We were tucked up beside a grassy bank on a small river in northern Wisconsin.  He pulled out a battered, black, Heddon Zara Spook that had been with him for many years.  Before I could even ask, he began to explain how much he loved it.  He preferred removing and re-installing the front eyelet to a forward facing position rather than the downward, factory installed position.  I watched as he casted out into the large eddie, directly beneath the rapids we had just run.  His spook danced left and right, diving down and rocketing up, through the foam that had collected on the calmest part of the eddie.  I glanced back and noticed the erratic, sharp, twitching motions he used to give life to the spook.  I had always worked mine with a very predictable rhythm and they never ran beneath or above the water with such acrobatics.  On His second cast into the eddie a 44 inch Musky consumed his spook and forever embedded that moment in my brain. Read More→