You know, September is one of my least favorite months. My favorites, of course, are May through August. The worst thing about September, I think, is the cold, hard reality that summer is over. The new life that was Spring is slowly being replaced by signs of death.
September, however, is not all bad. In fact, the fishing really heats up, especially for panfish. I base this on years of experience at some of my favorite spots. This is a great time to grab a container of worms and a bucket of “minnies,” and head for your favorite pond. Those filets will be very tasty in the dead of winter. I love them on the day before Thanksgiving. I can’t explain it, but it has been a tradition at my table for years.
September also has some good implications for hunters. Squirrel hunting has always been my favorite form of the sport, and the fact that you can now do it in September makes it even better. Granted, it is indeed harder to see the bushytails because of the leaves. Most of your shots will be on the ground, but it’s still a lot of fun. It is a great time to use a 22 rimfire. You have to place your shots to minimize meat damage. This year, I plan to test out a recipe for pressure canning the critters. It might be good, or it might be a disaster. Only time will tell.
It never fails to impress me when the birds disappear. For example, the yard will be full of robins one day, and completely devoid of them the next. I know that some robins stay the winter, but the backyard ones disappear so suddenly. Also, the goldfinches, which stay all year, are turning brown, to the point where they are starting to look like sparrows. The hummingbirds have disappeared as well.
Here’s a little warning for those who drive on Route 68 through Brady’s Bend. Be careful around the Flood Memorial Park. Deer seem to congregate around there.
I have tried to allow space for a couple of photos from Dave Lewis (above). One is of a big bobcat on his property. The other is of a bear severely infested with mange. Sadly, it is probably destined for a long and painful death. No hunter would want it, and the loss of hair will ultimately result in freezing to death. It’s all part of nature, but it is still sad.
For many years, around this time of year, East Brady poet Ann Moody would write an Autumn poem. Since her passing, I have missed this poetic opportunity. Consequently, here is a poem by my favorite American poet, Robert Frost. It really sums up the temporary nature of Autumn’s beauty.
NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower’
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.