Pennsylvania Game News - August 2022 - 41

A WILD SEASON BLOWING BY
E
NCAPSULATED GRAINS of sand,
the climate-controlled motions of
which are closely chaperoned within
curved glass, generally are accepted as
proper keepers of time.
I much prefer the wildness and unpredictable
nature of wind, and the action
and adventure it adds to time's passage.
The seed must not have landed far
from the tree.
Last archery season, my daughter Leah
could have been nicknamed, " my gale
force gal. " Double-digit winds prevailed
on every father-daughter outing.
" Sure seems extra windy this year
Daddy, " she said on one hunt, golden hair
blowing across her face.
Between dance, soccer, cross country
and church youth groups, Leah and I were
lucky to sneak in a hunt or two per week.
We did not enjoy the luxury of perfectly
playing the wind or, in cases, capitalizing
on a lack thereof.
So in November, we were on stand,
swaying with one of the largest maples
on our family farm.
Leah was learning in fourth-grade science
class that a difference in atmospheric
pressure summons wind. But she might
well have been feeling a different type of
pressure. Six weeks had blown by with
zero opportunities at a whitetail.
If she worried about it, however, it
didn't show for a second. Her smile was
as pure and contagious as they come,
her attitude as positive and optimistic as
opening day.
To stay sharp and raise spirits during
inevitable down times associated with
being up in a tree, we played hangman.
" I just beat you for the third time in a
row Daddy! " she kiddingly whispered.
AUGUST 2022
Though I wished otherwise, I had not
let her win.
As if audience to my losses, a friendly
flock of about 20 bluebirds fluttered from
tree to tree along our fencerow. It seems
I'm treated to such a show at least once
each autumn.
A powerful gust ebbed the blue wave,
like the ocean crashing much farther up
the shore than it had before.
In concert, the maple's fleet of pilots
lifted off. Breaking her resilient silence,
which had stretched from the cab of the
truck to the trunk of the tree, Leah endearingly
delighted, " Whirligigs! "
Surrounded by spiraling seeds, we
watched in awe as the playful pods took
center stage. It was a beautiful spectacle,
as magnificent as anything in nature's
studio. Some of the whirling westward
travelers spun 50 yards or more.
Wind breathes life into everything. A
soft one inspires woods to whisper and
leaves to dance. A strong one incites trees
to riot and whitens water. With the latter
sweeping through, temperatures abruptly
plummeted.
Leah, as always, was dressed for the
occasion. Wearing her pajamas beneath
a double layer of hunting clothes allows
her to peel off her camo and curl up on the
couch with her mini-dachshund Sunny as
soon as she returns home.
As fate would have it, the ritual would
be postponed this November evening.
The instant light faded, so too did
the wind, if ever so slightly. A curious
doe, perhaps drawn by some of Leah's
signature blend of deer calling, rode
the currents up from the creek. Breeze
41
Pennsylvania Game News - August 2022

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