The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
September 6, 2023 2:18 pmwritten by Dave Simonett
As I watched my one-year-old German Wirehair pup rev her engines by the door, I tried to imagine the nearly infinite array of aromas about to hit her nose when she hit the grass outside. It must be incredible. That dog’s sniffer is so intense that when she got through the door, she was forced to smell all the way around the yard a couple times before she could relax enough to take a pee. The bouquet was so profound that she shook as if charged by electricity as she half-pointed around the bushes and especially at the cattails that no doubt hid many feathers. I wish I could smell what she smells for just one minute.
We are rounding second here and heading towards fall (in the baseball game of seasons, I put winter as home plate). Soon I’ll put Maxon in grass and trees that hopefully shelter pheasants and grouse. I’m so excited to see that magnum of a nose put towards finding them and witness generations of hunting dogs froth to the surface in her bearded face. Similarly, generations of human hunters will awaken in me, which I know sounds dramatic and moody, but it’s a feeling I love. I’ve been trying to learn more about our species’ hunting ancestry lately. When reading about mammoth hunts, buffalo jumps, or the first people to fashion a fishing hook out of a sea snail shell 20,000 years ago, suddenly, our human history seems very long and somewhat comforting.
As I sit here writing this in an airport lounge in the most modern times we’ve yet seen, it’s easy to forget that we are animals that live inside an ecosystem, just like the pheasant or the elk that we may pursue here soon. I think many of us sadly feel like we are kind of adjacent to nature or, worse, that we exist outside of her completely. This illusion is no doubt reinforced by air conditioning, traffic laws, and expensive shoes, but it’s important to remember that those leather Louboutin heels are made from an animal hide, just like a Lakota teepee.
Hunting, for many of us, is our way of reinforcing our connection to the rest of the world. When we’re in the field, we have to be fully present. We have to note the wind and be conscious of each step. We notice the tracks in the dirt and the plants around our feet. Most of the time, we also end up taking a life, thus fully ingraining us in the cycle of nature, in which all life lives off other life.
Like many other people who own a German Wirehair, Fall is my favorite season. My calendar is filling up with long walks, and the light is changing. Fall is short and sweet where I live. But it probably seems short to anyone who spends the season afield, communicating with the past and hopefully filling the freezer.
Fall is also my absolute favorite time to visit the BWCA. The summer bugs have hit the road, the walleyes get shallow, the temps are perfect for portaging, and the colors are postcard-worthy everywhere you look. If you’re willing to beat some brush, you can find Ruffed and Spruce grouse in there while being among very few other hunters. The Boundary Waters is an Autumn-lovers paradise, to be sure.
As the kids go back to school and the summer road trips fade into the rearview, I highly recommend looking toward the BWCA for a fall tromp. And, while you’re planning that technicolor ramble, scanning maps, and calling outfitters, I humbly and respectfully suggest sending a few dollars the way of Sportsmen for the Boundary Waters. SFBW is at this very moment engaged in keeping the Boundary Waters the wild and wonderful place that it is, and that important work relies upon the support of adventurers just like you. Thank you everlastingly for that support.
I hope you have a wonderful Fall out there in the woods and fields. Our favorite time of year is upon us, friends. Let’s make it count.
Sincerely,
Dave Simonett, Sportsmen for the Boundary Waters
