There’s that feel.
You could awaken from a Sleeping-Beauty-style slumber in the mid-Atlantic portion of the Appalachian Mountains and, just by the temperature, dry air and light breeze, know that it is late August or early September.
That feel invigorates me. Something, maybe a primal something, is stirred within and positive anticipation surges. I know I sense these things from a hunter’s standpoint, but I bet the same holds true for many nonhunters who await the heartbeat of a high school football game or the opportunity to watch and taste all foods being offered in pumpkin flavor. Yuk.
Some acorns and hickory nuts have already fallen, still green of course, but now at ground level where a variety of critters will eventually make them gone.
Higher, up on the deciduous branches, desiccation has begun and leaves shrink a little. If you spend much time in the woodlands, you have already noticed that you can see just a bit more than as recently as three weeks ago as the foliage begins a slight surrender.
Abscission layers of leaves gleefully await their opportunities to show off. “Hold our beers and watch this,” they say to Jack Frost who always gets credited with the glamorous red-yellow artistry of the season.
Young turkeys, hatched in May and June, have grown and are pretty much good to go now, being able to fly to a branch if terrestrial danger requires it. But then there are those darned owls whose predatory efforts are not limited by gravity and who can swoop the head off a limb-gripping turkey like it’s in their job descriptions. Fawns, still suckling, hang close to their watchful moms and try to reach adulthood day by day at the same time predators, including those with tires and bumpers, lie in wait, hoping to short cycle that progression.
Most bucks still have velvet on their antlers, but that will change soon as the soft layer is shed and the business end of their headgear becomes evident.
In November, when the leaves have fallen, Orion, the hunter constellation, will become more obvious, although that celestial nimrod, club in hand, can be seen now in the pre-dawn sky if you have the correct angle that is unencumbered by oak or hickory leaves.
Hunters buy licenses and stamps. They sharpen broadheads and knives. They sight in rifles and practice with archery equipment. Trail cameras get checked. Some cameras require boot leather for their secrets to be revealed. Others send the photos of deer or bear or Sasquatch directly to your smart phone. I need the exercise, so I use the cameras that don’t rely upon orbiting satellites or relay towers on mountains.
So, go forward my hunter friends. Field dress deer. Skin squirrels. Shout commands to your retrieving dog. Make deer jerky. And, take some time and effort to let heart, mind and soul absorb the feel of the season. That feel will never leave you and will be retrievable at times when you need it the most.
Sawyerspective appears biweekly. To order his book, “Native Queen, a celebration of the hunting and fishing life,” send Mike Sawyers a check for $15 to 16415 Lakewood Drive, Rawlings, MD 21557.