As a large throng of Atlantic salmon anglers waited for their turn to fish the productive Eddington pools Friday morning, Dick Ruhlin walked back from the water with a grin and a fishing report.

“I saw three,” the Brewer fisherman, who also serves on the three-member Atlantic Salmon Commission, told the assembled anglers.

One rolled toward his fly. Two more, he reported, scooted up over a nearby ledge just as he neared the tail of the pool.

None decided to take his offered fly, but that was OK with Ruhlin.

“Salmon fishing, unlike trout fishing or a lot of other types of fishing, is social,” he said a few minutes later, as he nibbled on a doughnut and rested on a bench. “It’s fishing to catch the fish or hook the fish or see the fish, but it’s also getting together with friends.”

This year, for the first time since 1999, many of the Penobscot River’s fabled pools were open during a spring fishing season.

In response to a persistently lower-than-desired number of returning salmon, the season was staged with stringent rules in place.

The season was to end today, after a one-month run, or after 50 fish were caught. Fish would be caught and released, using barbless hooks. Salmon wouldn’t be removed from the water at all.

When the Penobscot flexed its muscles during a late April deluge, and reached its highest level on about the same date anglers were allowed to begin fishing, some shook their heads and predicted that the season would be a washout.

For 13 days, they were right.

Then, May 14, after waters receded, Ken Clark of Alton caught the first fish of the season.

The flood was forgotten. The season began in earnest.

And the fish cooperated.

Boy, did they cooperate.

According to Joan Trial, the senior biologist for the Maine Bureau of Sea-Run Fisheries and Habitat, 44 fish had been caught and released as of Friday afternoon.

With another high tide approaching Friday evening, a horde of eager anglers waiting, Trial admitted there was the possibility the season would end prematurely, with the 50th fish being caught that evening.

Her expectation, however, was that anglers would get to finish out the season on the day dictated by law.

“Unless people are really, really lucky this afternoon, [Saturday will be open],” Trial said. “We’ve been catching a fish or two fish a day. I would say, likely, they’ll get to fish in the rain [Saturday] morning at least.”

If anglers did get lucky Friday – or at any point in the day on Saturday – Trial said census clerks patrolling the river would let them know the season was over.

Green flags at area salmon clubs would be switched to red, and clerks would speak to anglers who were on the river, Trial said.

On the banks of the Penobscot, fishing is only part of the game. Talking is another important part. And so is watching a distant tote board on top of the Veazie Dam.

Each day, fisheries staffers tend the salmon trap on the dam. Each day, they change the tote board, telling anglers how many fish passed through the trap that day, and for the year to date.

On Friday, fishermen grinned – again – as the crew working at the dam returned to shore without changing the previous day’s totals.

“They’ve got too many fish in the trap for one trip,” angler Ralph Keef predicted.

Keef was right.

The crew returned several minutes later to collect another batch of fish that they would deliver to the Craig Brook National Fish Hatchery.

Finally, the day’s numbers were posted: 38 salmon passed through the trap Friday morning. The grand total, thus far: 239.

That, veteran salmon anglers can tell you, is great news, and more than doubles the best total recorded as of May 30 over the previous four years.

Trial was also enthusiastic … but realistic.

“This is a lot of fish [arriving] early,” Trial said. “Unfortunately, the last time we had a lot of fish early was 1999, and it was our lowest year in a long time [as far as total yearly returns]. Getting fish early doesn’t necessarily mean getting a big run.”

Trial said there are several factors that contribute to the return of adult fish.

First, the river conditions have to be right. The temperature and flow have to be attractive to the fish.

And second, there have to be fish in the ocean waiting for their chance to move up the river.

“It’s all about who’s waiting out there to come in,” she said.

On Friday, there were plenty waiting to come in.

There may be even more on Saturday.

Chances are good one of the anglers who’ll be there to try his hand is Royce Day.

The Bangor fisherman got into the salmon game late, compared to many.

He was working at a nearby campground when the river was open to fishing, and many of the campers were traveling fishermen.

About five years before the river was closed, along with all of Maine’s other salmon rivers, Day took up salmon fishing.

“[The fishermen] were saying, ‘Come on down, we’ll show you.’ They were very helpful,” Day said.

Helpful, yes. But salmon fishing is … well … salmon fishing.

And that means success is not guaranteed, even if your fellow anglers are helpful.

After the Penobscot was closed, Day traveled to Canada to fish.

He fished. Catching proved more difficult, he says.

“I have no luck up there,” Day said. “And this is the first time I’ve had any [luck] down here. I’d never caught a salmon before.”

That was before the current spring season. Now, things are different.

On Friday, the soft-spoken Day was a veteran, successful, salmon fisherman.

He caught one fish early in mid-May. A day later, he caught his second. Later, a third … and a fourth … and a fifth.

The largest, a 15-pounder, broke the tip of his rod, and perhaps changed his fishing karma a bit.

“First, I got the 12-pounder, and the next day I hooked the 15-pounder. Things were looking up,” Day said. “Then it turned back to salmon fishing: 1,000 casts for one fish.”

Ruhlin can tell you fishing just to catch fish will drive a man crazy if he chooses to pursue Atlantic salmon.

But he also knows the unique nature of salmon fishing lends itself to relaxed, social traditions.

“Salmon lies are usually well-known. Everybody knows where they are. You can’t hide them, for the most part,” Ruhlin said. “So people go to them and of course you get used to clustering up. From that, like this spot right here, you develop good friendships. Friendships that last for 20, 30, 40 years.”

On Friday, as the long-awaited season drew close to completion, minute by minute, fish by fish, fishermen took time to reflect on those friendships.

And they took time to think about the future.

Day, for one, can tell you why his luck finally changed, and why he started catching fish.

“Spring fishing on the Penobscot,” he said, simply. “I just hope that we can keep this season going next year, and they don’t shut the whole thing down. There’s talk of it. It’s scary.”

jholyoke@bangordailynews.net

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