Random thoughts come to mind during a day on the water as we focus on our intended game plan, but with room in our thinking for a fresh idea.

On the lake, I’m concentrating on the water around my boat and discovering the best way to put the right lure in front of a fish in a manner that persuades that fish to eat it. That is not to say, however, that I don’t keep an open mind.

One recent random thought got me considering my fishing from a new perspective. The thought that crept into my brain as I lobbed my lure to largemouths lurking in the lush shoreline vegetation was all about the price of nightcrawlers.

I cannot recall the last time I dug into my pocket for money to buy nightcrawlers. While I have threaded ‘crawlers on the hooks of spinner rigs for Lake Erie walleyes, somebody else had paid for the bait.

I probably last bought worms for my own fishing trip 30-plus years ago, which was around the time my fishing focus shifted from Berlin and Mosquito walleyes, to casting artificial lures to largemouth and smallmouth bass. So I had no current perspective about the price of nightcrawlers.

As I neared the lake last week, my eyes caught a roadside sign that declared nightcrawlers for sale at a price of $4.69 per dozen. I didn’t realize it at that moment, but the sign made more than a passing impression.

A few hours later, as fishing friend Ted Suffolk and I worked a weed line for largemouths, I mentioned the advertised price. In his teen years, Ted’s summer job was in the bait shop at Pine Lake south of North Lima, so he has an expert perspective about the history of the price of nightcrawlers.

“I remember when they were 35 cents a dozen or three dozen for $1,” he said in the manner of those of us with many decades of birthdays. “And people complained about the price then.”

In fact, I remember when nightcrawlers were free (and I suppose they still are for some anglers). One of my enduring childhood memories is picking nightcrawlers with Dad.

On hot summer nights, he would attach the garden hose to the oscillating sprinkler and liberally soak the front lawn of our home in Boardman. After a half-hour or so, he turned off the water and out we went with a flashlight in hand to crawl stealthily on hands and knees to sneak up on slimy fat nightcrawlers that had come to the surface to avoid drowning.

Sometimes, when he expected he’d need more than a dozen or two, we went nightcrawler hunting on the fairway of the “Canfield Hole” on Mill Creek’s South Course.

Our ‘crawler-picking excursions were solid bricks in my fishing foundation. They taught the value of stealth, as the heavy-footed picker rarely succeeded in grabbing the worms before they retreated into their tunnels. Gathering bait also was a lesson in proper preparation, demonstrating that fishing trips begin well before the day’s first cast.

Back at the lake, a whistly snort reached my ears. My eyes turned toward the sound and spied a whitetail deer and her two fawns. She stared me down and snorted again. The youngsters pranced, turned and bounded into the trees, Mom right behind their bobbing tails.

I’m pretty sure there’s a fishing lesson there so I’ll keep my mind open to whatever new perspective it might provide as I fish my way forward.

Jack Wollitz’s book, “The Common Angler,” is a collection of stories that explain why anglers are passionate about fishing. Send a note to jackbbaass@gmail.com.