Snowfall

It is the twenty-first of November, the last day of the month’s third week, and a light snowfall caresses Crooked Eddy. Two seasons indeed: dry fly season and winter.

Saturday was the opening day of New York’s whitetail deer season, and JA and I wandered into the forest in darkness as per our tradition. I began with lofty goals, planning to stay out late into the morning and certain I was overdressed. The fierce winds saw to it that I didn’t make it. JA stuck it out for the duration, though neither of us saw hide nor hair of a deer.

The afternoon was better, the sun having warmed the landscape somewhat with the wind lessened, though still strong. Our fortunes failed to improve, though our attitudes were just fine. JA already has his New Jersey archery buck in the freezer and I, well, I long ago learned not to expect luck in deer hunting. The importance of the day remained on solid ground: two good friends sharing an outdoor tradition.

The weather is working hard to compromise the Thanksgiving holiday for all of those thousands of souls bent upon travelling to celebrate with family and friends. We’ll be right here in Crooked Eddy while the snow, rain or whatever else comes down and keep a warm and quiet holiday.

My concern for travel is limited to short trips to and from the mountains as the next couple of weeks of this deer season unfold. It’s not that I expect to even see a deer, other than those I routinely encounter driving to and from the hunt or here eating the grass and clover in my yard, but I appreciate the chance to get out on the mountain alone with my thoughts and hunt them.

I was hoping to find some snow early this morning, planning to head to the mountain if I did. I learned how much I enjoy hunting in falling snow during my decades living in Pennsylvania. There is a unique silence that’s almost there surrounding you, the sound of stillness, punctuated by the whispers of the snowflakes.

I saw the first hint of ice on the edges of some emergent boulders as I drove along the East Branch this morning; yet another sign that winter expects to stay awhile. The news feeds have been talking about a long, cold, snowy winter for the northeast, and I keep hoping they are off at least a little in their predictions. I would love to have a few snowy mornings to try to track a buck, but to match my ideal that snow would melt before nightfall. Icy mountain trails are not made for old men wandering aloft in the dark!