I went ice-fishing once, when I was probably 8 years old, with my father. We didn’t have a little shelter like this, and I was just old and miserable the whole time, and hated it so much that Dad didn’t even suggest doing it again. It didn’t help that I didn’t like fish very much (except battered fish sticks of course), so that the thought of catching a fish didn’t even appeal to me. And I didn’t.

Probably used the wrong bait.