Matt Dunlap has been to plenty of moose permit lotteries. He remembers 500 folks packing a meeting room in a suburb of Portland, each of them hoping … wishing … that they’d finally get the chance to hunt a moose.

He remembers watching an elderly gent from Pennsylvania find out that he’d finally received a permit after 22 unsuccessful tries. He remembers that the man cried.

Despite all he has seen, Dunlap – the co-chair of the Legislature’s joint Inland Fisheries and Wildlife Committee – isn’t quite sure why people flock to the yearly lottery.

But he is pretty sure he knows the feeling that it elicits in those who just can’t miss it.

Back when he cooked for a living, Dunlap recalls, when break time rolled around, he and his co-workers couldn’t get out in the wilderness. So they’d do the next best thing.

“We’d sit on the back dock and pull out our fishing licenses and just look at ’em and talk about fishing season,” Dunlap said. “[This is like that]. It’s just the excitement, the opportunity that you might get drawn. That’s all I can figure.”

On Wednesday, the yearly lottery rolled into Aroostook County for the first time, and a large crowd-filled function rooms at the Northeastland Hotel in Presque Isle for the 24th drawing.

At stake were permits – 2,895 of them – for one of the state’s two moose-hunting seasons. According to state Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife staffers, 73,755 people applied for permits in the lottery. Of those, 53,205 Mainers applied for 2,610 permits up for grabs, while 20,550 non-residents applied for the 285 available permits.

Dunlap said his committee used to move the moose permit lottery around more randomly, but lately communities have actively sought the event.

“[Committee member] Joey Clark got it in Millinocket one year, and all of a sudden we had a waiting list of guys on the committee who wanted it in their district,” Dunlap said.

And when they get it?

They roll out the red carpet, fill a hotel or civic building with vendors, prospective hunters, and media members, and try to out-do their predecessors.

Then, after a whirlwind two-hour session … everyone leaves. The lucky get ready for their moose hunt. The unlucky begin preparing for next year.

And some are left to ponder the fact that hundreds of people were willing to pack into a room, just to hear a few dignitaries read a few thousand names.

“It’s actually become a phenomenon unto itself, aside from the hunt. It’s a little weird, and I don’t think anybody really understands it,” Dunlap said. “The only thing I can think of is, it’s like looking forward to Christmas.”

As I told you on Tuesday, Jason McCubbin and I spent an enjoyable day in a drift boat with guide Dan Legere over the weekend.

Drift boats, for the uninitiated, bear a resemblance to the old double-ended bateaus that you can find in photos that deal with Maine’s rich Atlantic salmon-fishing tradition.

They’re pointed (more or less) on both ends, and lowest in the middle, where the guide sits.

Legere sits facing downriver, and generally rows back against the flow to turn the boat the direction he wants it to go.

The craft are unbelievably stable and comfortable to fish out of, as McCubbin noted on more than one occasion.

“This is the way to fish,” he said several times over the course of the day.

Legere, who owns the Maine Guide Fly Shop in Greenville, pointed out that while other boats may be more versatile – his doesn’t ride that well on the open-water, cross-lake journey we made to the boat ramp, for instance – his Hyde drift boat is perfect for river fly fishing.

“This is what this boat is made for,” he told us as he worked his way down through a bony set of rapids.

“The basic theory is to aim your bow at danger, and row away from it,” he said.

When Legere reaches a piece of water he wants his clients to fish, he pulls the anchor rope out of a convenient nearby cleat and brings the boat to a graceful halt.

Typically, one angler fishes on each side of the boat. And typically, fishermen are told that the safest way to fish out of a drift boat is to avoid casting in a way so that your line crosses over the boat.

For a righthander fishing the right side of the boat from the bow, that means casting off-hand, over the left shoulder, so that the fly doesn’t skewer the folks sitting behind him.

Legere, however, doesn’t mind if an angler casts over his head… at first.

“You can cast over the boat all you want,” he said on Sunday. “Until I get hit.”

Legere notices things you might not: The paint and fiberglass he points out on many of the river’s rocks, for example, are evidence that even though drift boats can get through all kinds of tough conditions, they don’t always do so without striking obstacles.

“In six inches of water, I’m good,” Legere told us as we ripped down through a set of rapids. “In four inches of water, I can pretty much bounce through.”

If you’ve never had the opportunity to fish out of a drift boat, you ought to consider treating yourself to a trip in the future.

Legere is one of many Maine guides who have decided that the best way to take anglers down some of Maine’s most beautiful rivers is by drifting in a boat designed specifically for the purpose. A few phone calls can put you in touch with someone who can show you a side of your favorite river that you’ve never seen.

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