We all have fish tales, it seems. We swap them around campfires and share them around the dinner table, revel in them, change them, and (don’t tell anyone) even openly lie while recounting them. Eventually retelling those tales convinces us that we fish quite a bit … and that we spend most of our times afield with those best friends who share our passion for the woods and waters of Maine.

The other day, I realized that many times, those thoughts are idealistic notions … and that unfortunately, they’re not true.

My Fishing Buddy and I headed to Green Lake on Thursday. It was a spur-of-the-moment deal, one that we’ve been increasingly unable to pull off since my job changed, making our schedules vastly different.

Years ago, we’d sit at computers facing each other and simply decide to fish.

Tomorrow. Be there.

And we were.

Just ask us. We’ve got the tales to prove it.

Nowadays, things are different. We plan – or try to plan – via phone, and find that family demands, or work, or other unforeseen circumstances often interrupt.

And sadly, I realized on Thursday afternoon, those tales – the ones we keep telling, and telling, and telling – are from a time when my friend had much more hair, and when I had much less paunch.

Thursday, we fished. The power auger that we used on our last ice fishing expedition hasn’t worked for two years … so we drilled by hand.

Some of the traps he pulled from his pack basket worked, and others didn’t. And all of them sported twisted, tangled line that hadn’t been used in far too long.

“This is where you fell,” I told him as we tromped down a once-icy slope toward the water. “Remember how many times you spun as you break-danced down the boat ramp?”

He did … and laughed.

We ambled out onto the ice, looked out where we used to put my shack (back before we inadvertently stopped fishing together) and saw a half-dozen squatters had taken up residence on “our” borrowed sand bar.

We drilled holes, set traps, pulled out folding chairs, and started telling some of the same old stories.

Eventually, the snow started falling. And later still, the fish started biting. At least, that’s our fish story.

The flurry was brief, and no salmon were put on ice … but for five minutes, the old days were back. We were chasing flags. Laughing. Wondering what lurked beneath the ice … and whether we’d end up with another tale to tell.

We were fishing … not talking about it. We were having fun. We were sharing an activity that we’d missed for far too long.

After several hours, we looked at our watches and packed up.

For the record, we left Green Lake that day with no fish.

But by the time we arrived at our homes, I suspect each of us realized that we’d come away with enough fresh fish tales to last us until next time … whenever that may be.

Nearly time to talk turkey

If you’re a prospective turkey hunter, it’s not too soon to start crossing your fingers: The state’s lottery for turkey permits will be held on Friday.

While wildlife officials hope to award permits to all interested hunters as early as 2006, the only way you’ll be able to hunt turkeys this year is by having your name drawn in the lottery.

This year a total of 20,300 permits will be allotted to those who entered the lottery. The odds will likely be in the favor of hunters this year, as far more than half the prospective hunters will get a permit if the number of applicants rivals past years.

According to Mark Latti of the Department of Inland Fisheries & Wildlife, the permit drawing will be held early Friday morning and the results will be available on the state’s Web site in the afternoon.

Good luck to all. And if you’re not going to hunt this year, or are feeling exceedingly confident in your own chances, feel free to cross your fingers for me. In two years of applying, I’ve yet to win my way into what some call Maine’s most thrilling hunt.

Egg Riders ready to roll

When I agreed to join the media contingent on today’s Egg Ride for the Pine Tree Camp, I knew things would get messy.

I did not know, however, exactly how messy they’d get. On Friday afternoon, I found out … and to be honest, I’m a bit concerned.

According to Cindy Campbell of WQCB radio, as of Friday afternoon donations had topped $40,817.

That sounds great … I think.

After all, the ride is a fund-raiser for the Pine Tree Camp, and every penny that we raise will help provide a vital service for Maine children and adults with disabilities.

But here’s the thing: Since we riders are obliged to carry an egg (in our snowmobile suits) for every $50 that has been donated, that amounts to … umm … let me get out my toes for a minute … 816 eggs apiece.

And that’s merely the total Campbell gave me with three hours left until the station’s donation deadline.

Last year the station raised $22,300 and riders carried (and wore) 446 eggs apiece.

Two years ago, I was a sloppy mess after we lugged 383 eggs from Levant to Newport.

This year more than 800? Yikes!

It promises to be quite a scene. If you’d like to come watch the festivities, we’ll all be at the Hungry Hollow 76ers Snowmobile Club for breakfast at about 8. We’ll leave Levant shortly after 9 and arrive in Newport between 10:30 and 11.

Hope to see you there.

Sunday hunting question

Folks who attended Thursday’s public hearing in Augusta got an earful about the proposed Sunday hunting legislation that has been attached to Gov. John Baldacci’s budget.

Next week we’ll explore that topic a bit more fully. One thing that has become apparent already is that this issue doesn’t divide people along straight “hunter” vs. “nonhunter” lines.

Many landowners – those who hunt and those who don’t – feel they’ll lose the only day of the week that has traditionally been “theirs.”

Hunters can counter with facts about our sport’s safety, and can talk about our state’s strict target identification law, and how hikers don’t resemble game animals.

One thing we can’t ignore, however, is the perception of many – hunters and non-hunters alike – that they’re less safe during hunting season than they are the rest of the year.

Hunters who take pride in their own ethical behavior may disagree with those perceptions, but they exist … and to a large extent, many of those who share that perception will be making the decision on whether to let others hunt their land.

Other landowners are angry because they feel that attaching the Sunday hunting provision to Baldacci’s budget is a ploy designed to quash dissent and to make Mainers hold their nose and swallow a bitter pill they’d otherwise reject … and one that has been rejected in the past.

If you’ve got an opinion on the Sunday hunting issue, I’d love to hear from you. Feel free to e-mail or call, and I’ll include some of your comments in a future column on the matter.

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