Special to The Herald-Sun
It was March that the buds turned to leaves and bare branches became clothed again. Seemingly overnight where gray and empty filled our landscape, green and full was birthed.
Since, the season of spring and the rays of summer have cast heat upon us.
And then, change occurred. Green leaves are now laced with yellow and leaves have begun to fall. Nights have cooled and humidity is something we no longer curse. It is dark, sooner now. And fall is new and summer a memory.
Farmers call this time of year the time of harvest. There is corn to be shelled and hay to mow and greens to gather from the garden and calves are being born.
Hunters call this time of year a time of harvest, too. Waterfowl seasons and small game seasons and big game seasons and activities that take us to the woods and fields bring hunters outdoors and onto this stage of change.
It was recently that I crossed this stage and noticed change, really noticed the change of the year. The air was crisp and inviting and my steps were hushed by the rain from the night before. I climbed into my place of solitude and waited and watched and listened and studied and admired and thought and wondered.
All around me, life was in transition. Here acorns by the thousands, the fruit of the oaks, were falling and had to be found and hidden by the dozens of squirrels that scurried below. This was chaos to observe at times as I studied squirrels that worked diligently and those that were slower, eating here and hiding there.
Amid this binge of gathering and storing, there were birds by the dozens singing of change, too. There were blue jays and crows, those pecan robbing crows, and cardinals and finches and a wren or two all competing for space and seed and branches and trees. Once, within six feet, 12 birds lit upon a branch nearby and motionless I watched music come to life.
And there was a turkey, too, and then more. These birds of wisdom and sense appeared for a moment and then into the corn field they fed. I was in this place for an hour when I heard something running and then silence and then running, again. Four deer were nearby and I stood and watched and wondered of which trail they might take. They walked away and I watched and studied and wondered.
And then, the sky gave way to the sun and clouds scampered and blue was the ceiling above. The light here was enormous and moving. Even though this was the fringe of fall and leaves were not falling by the thousands and it was not really cold yet, the light cast upon yellows and fading greens and damp ground and the song of the woods continued, and I realized that change had occurred.
There are many days in the course of a year and many days we wish to forget. And, there are but a few days that we wish could go on and on and on. This day, an early morning in October with life abundant and a season of change, was a day I wished never to end.
For three hours, I listened and waited and only once did I raise my bow in anticipation. For three hours, life was distracted and I thought about how the air refreshed me. For three hours, I thought of the weeks and months prior and all that occurs from seasons to seasons and how soon this season will evolve into winter and then spring and then summer again.
Yet, for this hunter, it was a morning of watching change slow. Many of us fail to notice the seasons and the book that nature writes for us. Few would understand the madness of a squirrel and how it spends many days hiding food and many days finding food that has been hidden. Even fewer of us has taken the time to become motionless and listen with eyes closed to the sound of birds. And even fewer of us have studied the elusiveness and attentiveness of a wild turkey and appreciated that keen vision and astute hearing allow survival for one more day.
And perhaps even less in our population of people notice that change really does not occur over night. Change, in the case of fall, is a continual process and one that should humble us all and cause observation.
This is a time of year when nature turns a page every week, every day, each hour, and each minute. The leaves that budded in March will turn orange and yellow and soon fall. The acorns that grew in August will mature and have been falling for weeks. The rise of fall only occurs annually.
To observe the change of a season is a chance to observe life as it happens, even if this change is the drunken fall of a leaf from the top of a tall poplar tree onto the hushed ground below.
Enjoy your time outdoors. hawkinsoutdoors@msn.com
