Down in Augusta, a bunch of lawmakers, concerned sportsmen and irate landowners will gather this afternoon and hash over nine bills that target ATVs in Maine.

Of course, the ATV’ers will be there, too.

They’ll be the ones trying to tell the assembled throng that a perfectly innocent pastime is being castigated because of the actions of a few boneheads.

They’ll try to convince the lawmakers that ATV’ers can govern themselves, and outside intervention isn’t necessary.

What they probably won’t do – because it wouldn’t be politically beneficial – is point out that when it comes to outdoor activity in this state, nobody’s nearly as innocent as they seem. And nobody’s probably quite as guilty, either.

Here’s one take on ATVs that will surely be shared this afternoon:

They’re annoying.

They make a lot of noise. They can (as their name suggests) operate on all kinds of terrain, including the wet-and-sloppy, the dry-and-sandy, and everything in between. They don’t get stuck very often … and if they do, manufacturers conveniently outfit many of them with winches that can help drivers absolve themselves from their own stupidity.

That’s one view.

Here’s another: They’re fun.

They’re harmless, because responsible riders are safe, and wouldn’t think of chewing up Farmer Brown’s potato field by spinning around in circles.

Also, ATVs are useful, and allow older and handicapped sportsmen to continue enjoying their favorite activities.

The truth, of course, is somewhere in between. ATVs are useful. They are fun. And there are hundreds or thousands of inconsiderate boneheads out there who think getting temporarily stuck in Farmer Brown’s potato field is a great way to spend the afternoon.

Of course, you’ll likely disagree vehemently with one of those opinions. That’s the way these things work.

When I sat down to write this column, my intent was to take ATVs – and those who ride them – to task. I intended to point out how annoying they were. I intended to take a stand.

After a couple hours of juggling arguments in my head, that changed. Every time I reached for that broad brush – the one that would paint all ATVers with a single damning stroke – I stepped back, took a closer look, and realized that each of those broad brush-strokes would be less than fair.

A couple quick stories may illustrate the point better.

I like to fly fish. “Like” is probably not the proper word. I’ve recently become quite passionate about it. I love to stand in a thigh-deep river, wag a slender stick around, and try to outwit a fish or two.

If I don’t? Well, that’s OK, too. After all, I’m in the water … in the woods … and, as somebody once pointed out, “Trout don’t like ugly places.”

So there I was, last summer, alone (more or less), working a pool below a set of cascading rapids. Sometimes, the fish obliged. Often, they didn’t. Either way, it was peaceful, and I was smiling.

Until the kayakers showed up.

Rapids, you see, lead to holding pools for fish. Rapids can also serve as a playground for paddlers. On this day, a whooping, cheering, hollering group of teens churned through the riffles, “surfed” on standing waves, and made general nuisances of themselves (at least, that’s the way one fly fisherman interpreted it).

My solitude was gone. None of the paddlers looked my way, and none offered an apology for disturbing my afternoon fishing excursion.

I waded to shore, grumbled a bit … then sat on a rock, caught some rays, and reflected on their actions. After a bit of fuming, something dawned on me.

It’s not my river, I thought. I’ve been borrowing it for a few hours … they might as well have a few minutes of fun, too.

If the fish had been biting a bit more feverishly, I’ll admit, I may not have been so magnanimous.

That day, I figured out that paddlers aren’t universally considerate. They aren’t universally polite … and they’re not like us perfect fly fishermen.

Right?

Read on.

The portion of river I’ve been describing is a favorite haunt. It’s beautiful. It’s full of fish (or so they tell me). And if you’ve got a tent, there are several sites you can choose from … and you can legally and primitively camp for free.

That’s’ right. Free.

Fly fishermen flock to that piece of fly fishing only water.

Find an occupied campsite in that area, and chances are good that the camper’s got a fly rod or three stashed in their truck, and a pair of waders drying on a rope tied between trees.

On one visit last summer, I glanced across the road from my tent site and noticed some things I’d overlooked in the past. After closer examination, I was disgusted.

Coleman fuel canisters littered the forest floor, as did beer bottles and piles of trash.

We fly fishermen, it appeared, aren’t universally perfect, either.

These tales illustrate a basic point: Most of us who enjoy spending time outdoors could afford to improve our demeanor or conduct in some way or other.

In Augusta today, ATV’ers who trespass, or who are inconsiderate of others, or who do damage to private property will be reminded that they need to clean up their act or be held accountable.

Many of the rest of us can afford to learn from the message that’s being sent.

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.