Save for a smile from Lady Luck, it’s safe to say weather can be the deciding factor in whether sportsmen come home from the hills successful or skunked. Small wonder, then, that weather-savvy members of Maine’s Rod and Gun Fraternity don’t hesitate to postpone trips into the hinterlands when, as they say, “conditions aren’t right.”

That, of course, doesn’t necessarily mean the weather isn’t fit for man nor beast. To the contrary, bluebird days can be discouraging to sportsmen, depending on the hats they’re wearing. With that in mind, and for the uninitiated, let’s sort through the atmospheric activities that often determine whether hunters and anglers venture afield or afloat, and which, owing to the age of euphemism, weather forecasters refer to as “events.”

Wind: Simply put, duck hunters pray for it, bird hunters and fly fishermen curse it, deer hunters deplore it. You may know that duck hunting usually is productive on days when, after stretching and yawning, the dawn breeze becomes a gusting wind that keeps the swift-winged fowl stirred up and moving. Additionally, the movement that wind imparts to decoys makes the phony flocks more attractive to trafficking ducks, convincing them to lower their flaps and landing gear – that is if you’re not outside the blind recycling coffee.

There are, of course, risks involved in keeping blind dates when a blasting wind is churning lakes, bays, and rivers into white-capped seas, and no one is more aware of that than sea-duck hunters. Allowing that the forces of winds and tides never meet without flexing their muscles, traveling to and from ledges located a mile or more offshore can be serious business. Every time I think of the January day when Al Mitchell, Jerry Ramsdell, and I left an ice-glazed ledge in our wake and set a course for the boat landing a couple of miles distant – the temperature was a wind-chilled 30-below-zero, the boat pitched through 3-foot seas that broke over the bow in freezing spray – I say another Act of Contrition. Nevertheless, when duck hunters plan their trips, they pray for wind or at least a good breeze.

Not so, though, with deer hunters. It’s no secret that most of the deer that leave tracks at tagging stations are shot by hunters who were either “still hunting” (periodically moving and pausing) or stationed on stands overlooking fields, trails, and crossings. But truth be told, many of the whitetails met their demise because they were heard before they were seen, an advantage greatly diminished by a big-feeling wind blustering through the woods. Accordingly, deer have difficulty hearing and distinguishing movement on windy days, causing the animals to be more nervous and wary than usual. Thus, deer bedded down with the wind at their backs, allowing the animals to smell danger approaching from behind while watching ahead and to either side, is but one reason why only 15 percent or so of deer hunters deal with the task of tagging and dragging.

Because bird hunters and their dogs have difficulty keeping contact when the wind is in high gear, hunting in such conditions tends to be very vocal. Worse yet, young, inexperienced dogs easily become confused and lost on windy days. Take it from one who has been there done that. Luckily, my English pointer, Jake, only 9 months old at the time, was found after five days.

As for fly fishermen, suffice it to say that a wind-whipped cast can be serious stuff. Here I’m reminded of removing a trout fly from the late Gene Hill’s lower eyelid. If the backcast, knocked down by the wind, had embedded the fly in the Field & Stream columnist’s eye, the situation would have been much more traumatic: Allowing that we were fishing on the Caniapiscau River in Arctic Quebec, there was no chance of dialing 911. But in spite of the close call, the wind was a blessing because without it the black flies were unbearable.

Rain: It can be said that rain drumming on a deer camp roof isn’t as depressing as a downpour on a duck marsh. Why? Because deer hunters who don’t mind swamping through thickets of spruce and fir on rainy days have a good chance of setting their sights on deer shooed from their storm shelters. Moreover, rain also removes the crunch from carpets of fallen leaves.

Obviously, the word “waterfowl” is misleading to the copy writers of advertising agencies. Whenever I see an ad for raingear, in which a duck hunter is depicted squinting through what could be called a monsoon, I laugh out loud. For some reason, ducks are reluctant to fly in rain. Why, I don’t know. But I know that, having paid my duck-hunting dues, I’ll leave my share of hunting in the rain to someone else.

Depending on your age, bird hunting in the rain can be pleasure or punishment. Admittedly, it took me about 40 years to realize there were better things to do on drenching days than to go slogging through bird covers in sodden clothes and squishing boots. But because woodcock hold like they’re glued to the ground when it’s raining, early on Jake and Misty and Sam and I hunted on days when it poured so hard the drops could have driven nails. Partridge, however, perch in the shelter and concealment of conifers when rain clouds are splitting their seams. Consequently, in wet weather Ol’ Ruff affords bird dogs fewer opportunities to earn their Alpo. On the other hand, though, show me a more challenging shot than that offered by a partridge roaring from a fir or hemlock in an explosion of spills and spray.

In one of his hit recordings, country-western singer Hank Williams Jr. drawls that he likes fishing in the rain. So do I, as long as it doesn’t pound the water to a froth. My only recollection of productive fishing during a pelting rain is of trolling for bluefish off Boothbay Harbor. If it had rained any harder, I’d have had to hold my breath. Continuous arm wrestling with blues weighing from 8 to 15 pounds, however, kept my spirits high and dry. On starting back to the landing on Southport Island, I had to remove the drain plug to run the rainwater out of the boat. Otherwise it wallowed in the slate-gray sea.

Snow: It can be a blessing or a curse depending on whether it’s a dusting or deep, wet or dry, spongy or crusty. For sure, 2 inches or so of fresh snow is helpful to deer hunters in that it records the rummaging of the whitetails and enhances the trailing and recovery of wounded animals. Yet, given their druthers, many deer hunters would sooner hunt on bare ground; their contention being that snow, regardless of its condition, crunches and creaks underfoot.

Conversely, the sound of wind spitting snow against the windows in the wee hours signals payday for duck hunters. The reason being that ducks fly often on snowy-blowy days and, owing to the low ceiling, usually decoy well. A smothering snowstorm, however, whitens black duck decoys, which, you may know, is worse than wet kindling. “White bird” decoys – whistlers, ringnecks, scaup – are more forgiving of snow, but, still, ducks don’t allow it to settle on their backs.

Bobcat hunters like fresh snow because it shows fresh tracks. Also, cats generally tree quickly when faced with bounding belly-deep in fresh, fluffy snow. Let it settle, though, and the forest felines will take hounds and hunters on cross-country – county? – tours. Crusted snow is, of course, despised by bobcat hunters and rabbit hunters because hounds breaking through the icy seal become chafed and cut. Not to mention that crust doesn’t hold scent for long, and it’s hard on snowshoes.

Although bird hunting and fishing – ice fishing excepted – usually aren’t associated with snow, I’ve had memorable days in whitewashed woodcock covers. The migratory flights of the long-billed birds were, of course, delayed by October snows. Partridge, however, can survive Ol’ Man Winter’s severest weather. Trouble is, snow forces the hardy birds to spend much of their time perched in the protective cover of conifers. As for fishing, casting for Atlantic salmon during snow squalls that stormed along Canadian rivers and trolling for landlocks when Maine lakes were smudgy with snow and sleet epitomized the tradition we know as “spring fishing.”

Temperature: I don’t mind fishing in cold weather, but I don’t enjoy hunting when it’s so hot that my dog is tripping on his tongue and I’m feeling dizzy from dehydration. Granted, quail hunting and turkey hunting in Florida were adventures, likewise dove hunting and waterfowl hunting in Mexico. But sweating and swatting mosquitoes were adversities, not to mention rattlesnakes.

So there you have it, Sport, from what I’ve seen of it, at least. For reasons that make more sense than mine, you may have things sorted out differently. All well and good. But as members of Maine’s Rod and Gun Fraternity, I know we agree wholeheartedly on two things regarding weather and whether to go hunting or fishing: 1.You never know until you go, and 2. You can’t catch ’em at home.

Tom Hennessey’s columns and artwork can be accessed on the BDN Internet page at www.bangornews.com. Tom’s e-mail address is: thennessey@bangordailynews.net