One night, drawn by the promise of doing epic battle with huge fish, you find yourself alone, standing chest-deep on a sandbar in the middle of Lake Michigan. The midnight water is inky black, sinister looking and smooth. An hour spent casting--stripping and double-hauling--comes to nothing. Then, without warning, something brushes up against your leg. The very same instant, the water begins to churn with hundreds of tails and shadowy serpentlike humps. Something out there slams your streamer so hard it nearly wrenches the rod from your hand.