The October predicament
By By Otha Barham / outdoors editor
October 22, 2004
October has only 31 of arguably the finest days of the year to pursue outdoor experiences. If you are limited to enjoying the outdoors only on October's weekends, it could make you wonder if life is being fair.
The bulk of the year's hunting seasons are getting under way. Doves are getting fat on fall corn and grain sorghum to our north, readying themselves to fly south and dot the sky over our shooting fields. Bow season for deer has opened, the days that archers have practiced for while waiting impatiently through the long, hot days of summer.
Squirrels have finally begun eating acorns after gnawing on the less tasty green pine cones for a month. The early teal season has whetted the waterfowler's appetite for large ducks and geese. The season on light geese opens just six days into November and starts it all for the marsh and flooded timber crowd.
For the lovers of pointing bird dogs and the whirring sound of a covey's explosion, bobwhite quail season opens in November, but the dogs must be conditioned and the shooting eye must be sharpened in October.
Rabbits, too
Oct. 16 marked the opening of the 2004-2005 rabbit season. Thousands consider this their primary hunting quarry.
On Oct. 2, the season opened for hunting opossums, raccoons and bobcats with dogs and guns for food and sport. Even a fall turkey season opens in certain Mississippi Delta counties.
To complicate matters for the outdoor enthusiast, black bass stir with more fervor in the streams and lakes and backwater across our land. They blast topwater lures with exuberance matched only by the frenzied feeding of springtime.
The overwhelmed sportsman or sportswoman is forced to choose what must be considered a meager number of pursuits afield from this abundance of opportunities. Amid this pleasant dilemma, if other demands on our time materialize, we have the basis for advanced frustration.
The juiciest plum in this fabulous fruit bowl for me is not possible to identify. But I will reach for the ones that taste of fried young squirrel and gravy, fresh tenderloin of pre-rut deer and the screaming drag of a bass reel.
What hunter can resist a cool dawn in quiet hardwoods with the scratch, scratch, scratch of a gray squirrel cutting a hickory nut or the tinkle of tiny pieces of white oak acorn shells sifting down through maturing leaves? A limb shakes and you raise your gun and wait for that split second when the busy squirrel hesitates within view.
Early bucks
And who doesn't envision a summer-fattened buck with freshly polished antlers tiptoeing through green undergrowth toward your tree stand that overlooks the trail marked with his rubs? Two more steps and you will make a small sound to stop him so you can line up the top pin of your bow sight.
And what could possibly keep you from making your way to the dark waters where breadbasket-size largemouth bass lie in wait for unsuspecting prey, which you will duplicate with tempting lures? You drop the lure softly near a submerged log and, as the ripples settle, you move the lure ever so slightly and hold your breath with anticipation.
Before you are finished with these adventures, October is gone. The leaves fall and the cunning squirrels scurry along bare limbs above treeing terriers. The bucks develop thick necks and paw the ground and shred bushes throughout the woods. The bass start their annual move toward deeper water and get picky about their diet.
Yes, October is special. But it is a part of a dynamic system, evolving by the day into ever more magical periods of nature that seem so fleeting to those of us who are truly at home in the wild places. October grows its bounty without waiting for us. We must make haste to be a part of its days and their passing.
