Walleye scandal made national news. Here’s what Idaho anglers can learn from it

“Early to bed, early to rise. Fish all day, make up lies.”

Many fishing-related knickknacks contain some version of this saying, suggesting most fish stories are more fiction than fact. In my experience, however, anglers’ tales are usually true (with, perhaps, a few minor embellishments).

As a storyteller, I aim to entertain. And as a journalist, I seek to educate and inform. Hopefully, my columns do a little of both. Wrestling a four-foot Michigan muskie; netting a state-record crappie for my buddy Jon; catching a state record of my own through the ice; doing battle with a 130-pound alligator gar. Each of these true-to-life fish stories hold special meaning for me, and I love sharing them with you.

Sadly, a recent fish story making national headlines is all about lies. And not the harmless kind, like your grandad’s trophy bass gaining an extra half-inch with each retelling.

For those unfamiliar with the story, it comes from the Lake Erie Walleye Trail, where dozens of anglers compete in a series of tournaments for cash, boats and other prizes.

After the season’s final tournament, a team weighed its five-fish limit, needing about 16 pounds to clinch the team of the year title and nearly $30,000 in winnings. But suspicions were raised when the scales read 34 pounds, which was significantly more than the fish appeared to weigh. The tournament director cut open the fish (these are not catch-and-release affairs like Idaho bass tournaments) and discovered that all five contained large weights — eight pounds of lead, in total — as well as walleye fillets, all crammed down the fishes’ gullets to increase their weight.

Videos of the incident spread across social media like wildfire, and the story was picked up by countless news outlets. This made me sad. It’s not often that a fishing story dominates headlines, and it’s unfortunate that this instance was a black eye for the sport, rather than a celebration of something positive.

I wasn’t planning to write about the Ohio scandal, but it has been a hot topic in the local fishing community. It also got me thinking. My fishing buddies and I are pretty good at eyeballing weights and lengths, not only of fish, but also of household items (I was within two ounces on my daughter Skye’s first pumpkin last week!). Had I seen those walleyes, I’m pretty sure I would have known they didn’t weigh 34 pounds. Now, replace me with dozens of seasoned walleye anglers. How in the world did anyone think the extra weight would go unnoticed? We’ll never know, but it is well-documented that when money is on the line, some folks will do anything to “win.”

Cheating in a tournament is inexcusable, but I understand why some anglers lie. If you’d rather not spill the beans on your favorite spot, that’s OK. But instead of lying about your whereabouts (or the lure you used, or where exactly the sun was in the sky at the moment), you can politely decline to share details. Or, wink and tell people you were fishing at “Notellum Creek.” Most anglers will understand.

Perhaps some good can come from the cautionary tale of the walleye tournament. Instead of dwelling on it, we anglers can redouble our efforts to shine a positive light on the sport we love. By following the rules, treating our fisheries and each other with respect, and being honest in our fish stories (minor embellishments allowed), maybe we can rewrite the old saying.

“We fished from dawn ‘til the setting sun. No lies here — we sure had fun.”

Tight lines!