Years ago I read a story in a popular hunting magazine about the two types of people you’ll encounter on the marshes: people who hunt ducks, and duck hunters. The basic difference is that the former are casual while the latter are very serious about their sport, sometimes downright fanatical. The difference is even more pronounced in the turkey woods.

I sometimes joke that I met a casual turkey hunter, once. This is not a sport for those who prefer checkers, or passively waiting for a chance encounter with passing prey. It’s an interactive game of chess, where the hunter must try to predict each move their opponent might make, and how that will influence their own successive moves.

Like chess players, turkey hunters must develop strategies they can apply given a certain set of circumstances. The more they have stored away the better, because every game and every opponent is different, and every move has a dozen potential outcomes. The turkey hunter must also be able to grasp the short and long term possibilities of each ploy. And they must be adaptable, able to shift tactics at the first sign their opponent is onto them.

First timers typically experience one of two possible outcomes. Some, a few, quickly decide it’s just not for them. Bass ponds and golf courses seem more appealing than rising before the rooster crows and battling blackflies, mosquitos and ticks. Being outdoors should be enjoyable but we each have different ways of defining that. I warn those who have never tried it to beware of the other outcome. Once bitten, there is no cure and you become addicted to playing a game long on effort and short on reward, where the opponent carries the day more often than not; but that’s part of the attraction.

Over time, defeats become more acceptable because with each comes knowledge and experience, not to mention a healthy helping of humility. That compels us to learn more, develop new and different strategies and return to fight another day. Old Tom only gets to lose once.

That’s why those rare victories are bittersweet. A worthy opponent makes us work and think harder, and become smarter, more patient and more appreciative. When the battle goes our way it leaves a hole that we can only fill by finding another challenger.

Turkeys are to hunting what trout rising to a dry fly are to angling. The sport is interactive, cerebral. We boastfully proclaim dominion over the beasts of the fields and forests, then are repeatedly defeated by one with a brain the size of a walnut. In time we realize it is the game, not a successful conclusion that we savor most.

Bob Humphrey is a freelance writer and Registered Maine Guide who lives in Pownal. He can be reached at: bob@bobhumphrey.com