Patience is a virtue.

I’ve heard that saying my entire life, as I’m sure each of you has and, as I’ve grown older, my level of patience, my ability to be patient, has increased exponentially.

Over the years, I’ve progressed, more or less, along a hierarchy of patience. My initial forward progression was into what I would call the “Margaret Thatcher” level. To quote Thatcher, “I am extraordinarily patient, provided I get my own way in the end.”

In all fairness, although I do not view myself as categorically fitting all of the stereotypical descriptions, I am an only child. Progression into the “Thatcher” level was a big step, albeit not a paradigm shift.

From there, significant life events along the way contributed to an ever increasing volume in my patience stores–marriage and parenting come to mind immediately, however, maturity most likely takes top billing.

The joys and trials of being a husband and, later, a father, as well as growing older helped move me forward from the “Thatcher Level” to more of a “Benjamin Franklin” echelon. In the words of Franklin, “He that can have patience can have what he will.”

Over the years, my experiences in the outdoors have also contributed greatly to my ability to be patient. Initially, those lessons came at the end of a cane pole, sitting and patiently waiting while watching a red and white bobber for the slightest ripple that would let me know that a fish was there in the depths taking an interest in my worm.

I enjoyed fishing with live bait, however, I quickly gravitated to fishing for bass with artificial bait or bream with a fly rod and popping bug as these methods were much more interactive and involved a lot less waiting and watching.

When I was introduced to turkey hunting years later, thereafter becoming obsessed, I took the next step in my patience progression–the “Aristotle” level. According to the sage Greek philosopher, “Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.”

As much as I wanted to “make things happen” when turkey hunting, which worked on rare occasion, I soon understood that patience more often equated to success in the turkey woods. That lesson is one of the first that I share when mentoring others into the sport and it’s one that is viewed as more “old school” by many of the “run and gun” turkey hunters of today. If being patient classifies me as an “Old Pro Turkey Hunter,” then it’s a badge that I will always wear proudly.

Within the last few years, I have come to understand that there exists an even higher level of patience. I first saw it displayed in the waters of Tickanetley Creek in North Georgia and again this year in a drift boat on the waters of the Snake River in Southern Idaho. It is what I would classify as a Zen mastery level, the equivalent of being a “Yoda” of patience, if you will. Who were these gurus of patience? None other than my fly fishing guides.

As a parent that has taken my children fishing, I know the level of patience required to survive the endless cycle of baiting, re-baiting, tying, re-tying, and untangling. The fact that they are your children helps, but everyone has a breaking point. Everyone, it seems, except the fly fishing guide.

I realize that, aside from their personal experience on and in the water both fishing and handling a boat, professional guides are certified and trained. However, I also understand that the level of patience that I have witnessed cannot be taught. You either have it or you don’t.

Clearly, this goes against my theory that patience is a learned behavior, but I believe that fly fishing guides, good fly fishing guides that is, must be born with an almost Zen level patience.

Within minutes of stepping into Tickanetley Creek I had snagged my line above and behind me in a cottonwood. My guide, Matt Morrison with Cohutta Fishing Company, quickly (and with a smile) had me rigged out again and back in the water and in no time (after more snags, break offs, and reties) had me posing for a photo with my first trout (a beautiful rainbow).

My experience in Idaho with guides Chase Hines and Cruz Quiroz with The Lodge at Palisades Creek reinforced my belief that fly fishing guides may be the ultimate examples of patience.

Fishing from a drift boat for the first time made casting seem easier to me, but it no doubt increased the number of times that I snagged and broke off or somehow created a massive bird’s nest of tangles that had to be either untangled or clipped and re-rigged. Each time this was done with a smile and a laugh and followed up with encouragement.

I know that inevitably one day I will run into an impatient fly fishing guide. Until that day, I have a patience goal to strive for and with time (and patience), I think I’ll get there. Here’s to great adventures and great guides and here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.

Email outdoors columnist Brad Dye at braddye@comcast.net.