When I look out my window I can see a huge birch tree. A week ago the leaves were still green but two nights before last they began to turn. Not a slight tinge marking the advance of autum but a serious yellow that is overpowering the green. Other trees in the neighborhood have that weak tinge of color that hints at autumn. Not this tree, this one is serious about the change in season and is broadcasting that change to the world. An interesting thing about that tree is that when it turns the hunting also turns--from the easygoing shuffling transformation of hunters from summer sloth to full fledged hunter. Now the fields have color and the smell of dust in the grass has changed from summer's clinging bite to the softer, earthiness of harvest crops. It is time to go hunting. So, that's where I headed yesterday--out. I returned to the same grouse haunts that my best friend and I hunted last week. All the changes were there and could be felt and the birds we couldn't find last week were there, most of them flushing too far away for me to take a shot. Only one was in range and I missed it.
I wanted to go again today but the weather turned and the wind brought a stinging cold rain that forced me inside. Later this week I'll return to the fields and report on the hunting. glg
1 year ago