Geez guys, I'm feeling all nostalgic! I grew up in Newfoundland, and I remember walking with my dad over huge miles of bog (marsh) to get to a little honey hole. A bobber with a worm was the way to go, and we never returned home empty handed. At that time we could keep 2 dozen brook trout each, so we always enjoyed a big meal of trout when we got home. Those were great days. It is what fostered my love for fishing. Thanks for the walk down memory lane.