As a Maine sportsman, what are you most thankful for on this holiday related to bounties and harvests? Granted, it seems there are more fishing regulations than fish, and the days of unlimited hunting territory are as gone as woodcock in winter. But in spite of the many restrictions and constraints regarding Maine’s traditional outdoors recreations nowadays, sportsmen still have many reasons to count their blessings.

So while the turkey roasts to golden tenderness and simmering vegetables steam the kitchen windows and the smells of pies and stuffing saturate the house, pour yourself an appetizer and backtrack a bit.

Maybe you tagged a deer a few days ago. A buck it was, that walked onto the powerline in a drizzle that was beginning to drip. Steam rose from his enormous neck and his antlers gleamed like gunmetal. His rack will hold 12 hats and he weighed 220 on the feed store’s scales. “As handsome a buck as I’ve ever seen,” said an old-timer tending the store’s woodstove. Be thankful today that deer like that still roam our woodlands. Twenty years ago, Maine’s deer herd was at death’s door.

Perhaps last spring a friend, a farmer, say, showed you a beaver flowage where brook trout boiled for mayflies and black ducks raised their broods; or was it a pond where bass were ready to fight at the drop of a plug or popper? You have a lot to be thankful for if you have a friend like that.

Could be you once had the pleasure of sharing a canoe with a guide who showed you his trade secrets – well, a few anyway – about trolling streamers for landlockeds; and don’t forget the veteran Atlantic salmon angler who, a long time ago, instructed you in how to hook your cast so that a dry fly drifted over a fish ahead of the leader and line. Small favors that brought great rewards, those, and they deserve a thought of thanks today.

It’s a sure bet that many of the trails you follow are blazed with the names of now-departed outdoorsmen who took the time to guide a boy in the right direction. And what wouldn’t you give today to say a special thanks to, let’s say, Owen, Ned, Blaine, Arthur, Charlie, Bob, Harry, and of course, the Old Man, who may have been your father, grandfather, or both. If not for them, you may never have picked up a rifle or a shotgun or a fly rod. Consequently, today you’d know next to nothing about fish and wildlife and the major roles sportsmen play in conserving and protecting those important resources.

Accordingly, you’d have scant knowledge of boats, motors, canoes, lures and baits, fly casting, trolling, rigging decoys, blinds, camps, stands, weather, wind, tides, reading water, rowing, paddling and poling, and, of course, dogs. And regarding the latter, don’t you wish today you could whistle back all the “finders and fetchers” you were privileged to own or know on a first-name basis and thank them again for all the great times they gave you?

Speaking for myself, though, if I had to make a single choice as to what I would be most thankful for today, I would say, without hesitation, “Maine.” Although I’ve had the pleasure of fishing from the Arctic Circle to Argentina and hunting from Saskatchewan to Scotland, I’ve yet to find a place where I’d rather keep company with a rod or gun than in my backyard, so to speak.

The fact of the matter is I’d rather hook a three-pound landlocked salmon shortly after ice-out than I would a 100-pound tarpon on a heat-hammered flat in the Florida Keys. Nor am I exaggerating when I say the smashing strike of a Kennebec River striper or a bluefish off Boothbay Harbor is every bit as heart-stopping as a sailfish or marlin belting a bait off the West coast of Costa Rica or the reel-burning run of a Bahama’s bonefish.

Some of you may have shot geese on Maryland’s eastern shore, quail in Georgia, doves and ducks in Mexico, and maybe high, wind-driven grouse and pheasants in the Scottish highlands. Those are memorable experiences, for sure. But, for my money, I’ll take a pair of black ducks playing hard to get with the decoys or a partridge or woodcock holding my pointer, “Pete,” spellbound. And if I didn’t have a chance for a shot in either situation, I’d go home happily skunked and thankful.

Considering the changing times and attitudes, you should be thankful for the many people and organizations that are working diligently to uphold Maine’s reputation as a sportsman’s paradise. Because of their dedication, we still hunt for deer, bear, moose, ducks, geese, partridge, pheasant, woodcock, rabbits, foxes, and wild turkeys. Also, there are special hunting seasons for muzzleloader and bow and arrow buffs.

Wearing a different hat and vest, you can fish for landlocked salmon, brook trout, brown trout, togue, splake, smallmouth and largemouth bass, perch, pickerel, and if you’re so inclined, northern pike and muskie. And surely you know Maine rivers attract summer residents called Atlantic salmon.

But as much as I appreciate and enjoy my heritage and traditions as a Maine sportsman, the more I see of it the more I’m convinced that this state’s greatest attraction is its wilderness. Places where people can, while hunting and fishing, see and hear and smell and touch nature and be humbled by it.

You name it, Maine has it: great forests, vast woodlands, sprawling uplands, lowlands, ridges, hills, mountains, lakes, ponds, rivers, streams, brooks, bogs, swamps, meadows, heaths, swales, and great granite headlands that forever have held back the sea. Think about it when you go to the dinnerand be thankful. There are a lot of people who’d like to be sitting where you are.

Have a happy and healthy Thanksgiving holiday.