Pleasures Of Autumn

[Chief Grey Bear]

Am I ever glad to see the cooler weather finally show up. I’m tired of sweating like a pig as soon as I hit the outdoors. Wait, pigs don’t sweat. I wonder why we say that then? I guess it's better than that other saying about the lady that looks very uncomfortable sitting in the church pew.....Anyway, I’m glad to see it.

I like cooler weather for other reasons, too. I must admit that autumn has to be one of my favorite seasons of the year if not my very favorite. With the change to autumn comes the cool, crisp breezes, Friday night high school football, getting out the chili pot, the brilliant blazing colors that Mother Nature bestows upon us for too short a period of time, and a hot cup of spice apple cider drunk on frosty mornings. And, ahhh yes, the end of lawn mowing season! Such sweet rejoice!

The fall also spurs on an elevated level of wildlife activity, including fishing. The cooling temperatures starts some fishing action that up through October and into early November can and will rival that of the spring spawn. For me there is hardly any better time to float a river and pick up some bass getting fat for the winter. The change in weather from hot and sultry to cool and brisk triggers a reaction in fish that will cause them to gorge themselves with just about anything that moves, thus adding to their fat reserves that last through the long cold winter.

I remember a couple of years ago when my father and I were floating a stretch of Center Creek. I had been trying to get him to float it for years. Finally, at about this time of year we did it. It was a great trip, too. We caught a boatload of bass. Most were largemouth, but a few were brownies, and nothing spectacular, but that is not really important to me. Now don’t get me wrong, of course, I want to catch fish, and I hate getting skunked, but just being in the outdoors is satisfaction enough.

I was using a Rebel Crawdad, and my dad was using a Heddon Tadpolly. I remember that he caught one bass that wasn’t much bigger than the Tadpolly. I don’t know what he thought he was going to do with it, the belly of the fish was so full. The fish looked like it had swallowed a baseball.

Not only does the fishing get better, but another reason I like autumn is that small game hunting gets started. And what better time to get youngsters into the great outdoors. I love to get out in late October and November and do a little squirrel hunting. There is not a better opportunity to take your son or daughter out and start teaching them the basics of good sportsmanship and gun safety.

I can’t believe some of the hunting programs that I have witnessed on television and of pictures sent into outdoor magazines. I am appalled at the sight of a 7- or 8-year old deer- hunting with a high powered rifle. At this age I am of the opinion that these children are just not ready for this type of responsibility. I mean, did they also drive a big SUV into the woods to deer camp?

When I was 5, my dad started me out with a Daisy BB gun that I still have to this day. It is a black and gold single pump. It looks just like a shotgun but not like the ones made today that resemble rifles. I just barely had the strength to pump that thing. In fact, I had to stand it on the ground and pump it. I did that so much that I put a curve in the plastic stock of the gun.

Dad always would take me north of Carthage down to the Spring River at Francis St. He would have me shoot at the little balls that grew on the Sycamore trees. I don’t think I ever did hit one, but, boy I must have shot a million of those little ball bearings trying.

After I proved my proficiency with the BB gun, when I was about 8, he let me start on shooting a .22 single shot. After again proving my ability, I got to start using a .410 shotgun. I was about 10 when this happened. Rabbits never stood a chance after that.

Then for my 14th birthday on my first deer hunting trip carrying a gun I got to use a 30-30. Talk about luck, I scored a eight-point buck at 6:35 a.m., the opening morning of my first deer hunt. Dad told me to treasure that moment because it would never happen that easy again. I thought to myself at that moment he was crazy. There was nothing to it, but, boy, was he right! That was in 1982, and to this day it has never happened again. Thanks for the memories, Dad.