Without even trying, I found myself slipping down into the dark, frigid underbelly of fishing. You guessed it, I went ice fishing.

Of course, I’m just kidding. Ice fishing is a perfectly legitimate activity for fishing-addicted anglers stuck in winter’s doldrums. But you have to admit it’s weird.

It all started so innocently with being asked to help out with a church youth group going out to Ryder Park on a wintry day.

“Sounds mellow enough,” I thought. “Sit out on the frozen pond for a bit, maybe pull out a few trout and call it good.”

I had few clues about what I was doing, but I knew enough to bring a chair and some warm clothes. Another friend said not to worry — he had all the gear. Sort of like Imelda Marcos has a few shoes.

All the gear meant that he pulled up to the pond with a truck pulling a trailer loaded with the “necessities,” including a pop-up shelter that comfortably seats (sleeps) eight, gas-powered auger, attachable boot cleats, fold-out chairs, fish finder, underwater camera, TV monitor, tackle boxes, rods, fish holders and automatic hook setters, ice hole scoopers and a cooler full of goodies to eat.

Within minutes after arriving, the pond was pocked with fishing holes in the ice like a prairie dog community. Another nearby ice fisherman was slowly drilling holes in the ice with a hand-cranked auger and looked enviously in our direction.

“Ice is pretty thick,” my friend said. “More than a foot.” Even so, the motorized auger drilled through the ice in less than a minute or so.

Earlier in the day, I stopped by C-A-L Ranch to buy some bait. The store’s small bait refrigerator had two choices of live critters: nightcrawlers and mealworms. I didn’t really know which one to get for eastern Idaho ice fishing. I figured whichever one I bought would be the wrong one. So rather than doing eeny, meeny, miny, moe, I went with a small box of nightcrawlers. “When do worms not work?” I asked myself.

I passed a few worms out to some of the boys who showed up for the outing. I pinched a smaller worm in half and put it on my hook and dropped it down a hole. Then I sat back in my chair and watched the other ice fishing experts, trying to pick up some of the finer nuances of the sport.

One fisherman pulled out a large package of hot dogs. Some of the boys tore off bite-sized pieces, put them on a hook and dropped them down a hole. Other boys grabbed the wieners and started eating them.

“Isn’t that wiener bait a bit big?” I asked a boy. “I’m not sure there’s a fish in this pond with a mouth big enough to bite that.”

“I’m going for the biggest fish in the pond,” he said.

Another group of ice fishermen showed up at the pond and quickly began setting up a large pop-up shelter with chairs inside and began drilling holes with an electric auger hooked up to a huge generator.

“Are the fish biting?” one of the guys asked.

“Not yet,” I said, “but we have seen some swim by on the TV monitor.” I’m not sure, but I think the fish were laughing at us, thinking that we were doing everything wrong.

“Well that’s OK,” the newcomer said. “We come out here because our wives don’t like ice fishing.” He started laughing.

I thought I saw my line twitch, so I reeled it up and found a small crawfish clinging to my worm. Some of the boys gathered around.

“Cool!” “Caught something.” “You keeping it?” “You gonna eat it?”

I dropped the hapless critter back down the hole.

A short time later, one of the boys who had a giant chunk of wiener on his hook pulled up his line with two crawfish hanging on.

A small cooking fire was started in one of the picnic grills on the far side of the pond/park, and most of the boys grilled hot dogs and ate them. Shortly afterward most of the group gave up without catching anything more than crawfish.

Just before I left, another fisherman showed up and began using some of the left-behind holes. I learned later that he started catching fish about 5 minutes after I left. His secret: Tiny hooks and tiny bait, like mealworms.

Of course, I guessed wrong on the bait. It is the universal question anglers ask each other when someone catches a fish, “So, what are they biting on?” The answer is usually whatever you don’t have in your tackle box.

I should have gone with the smaller mealworms. Now I hope my sweetheart doesn’t notice the nearly full box of leftover nightcrawlers in the back of the fridge.

Jerry Painter is a longtime East Idaho journalist and outdoorsman.