A chipmunk eats away at an acorn, one of the many pictures of nature that can be found from a hunter&#8217;s deer stand.
A chipmunk eats away at an acorn, one of the many pictures of nature that can be found from a hunter's deer stand. (Karen Wolf - Lebanon Daily News)

Nature's mirror.

A clear lake reflects the changing leaves, the last of a splendid fall. The nights chill while the sun brings more warmth to the days. Anglers can be found on those chilled waters or casting from the shoreline of a newly-cooled lake.

There in the forest I sit and wait. It's the same log I had used for archery hunting and Karen and I had sat on during the inline season.

The area is littered with acorns and walnuts and often attracts wildlife, mostly squirrels and chipmunks. It is a pleasant place when the sun shines brightly to warm the body, but when the winds whip and the chill of morning or evening sets in, we've learned to be properly dressed.

Like many others, we hoped for the cooler weather that fall brings but know in our hearts that the season is short -- too short.

It seemed like only yesterday that we hung cameras around our necks and began a relentless search for the changing leaves. We hoped and prayed for sun-washed days to highlight the colors but relented when the much-needed rains came to wash out a fair number of days, creating more leaves to drop prematurely.

Now, I pick up my bow, immediately after cleaning my and Karen's inlines. By the time you read this, the brief season will be but a memory, but at deadline, the book isn't closed on the results. I can tell you that Karen missed a nice doe when a tree limb deflected her bullet. Fortunately, it was a clean miss.


We have been hunting hard, as if there is such a thing. It isn't our job, it's simply something we enjoy.

The deer are there, leaving tracks close to that log, but the surroundings are close to "jungle like," and getting a good shot at a white-tailed deer isn't as easy as some would like to believe.

So whoever is sitting next to the log can watch more squirrels than one can imagine, usually the way things turn out when you're hunting deer and not squirrels. Of course we hope to return for a squirrel hunt sometime in the future, but not until a deer is in our freezer.

The other creature that is a continual visitor is the chipmunk, but we know that by the end of the month they will be underground, literally.

I guess a lot of people don't pay much attention to these little critters, but they do not enter winter with a thick layer of body fat, as do true hibernators. In late October or early November, they go underground to live on stored food until spring.

I found it interesting that the Pennsylvania Game Commission reports that wintering behavior varies. In one research project, 63 percent of the chipmunks studied became torpid to some degree.

Another researcher cited 30 percent as becoming torpid and classified 60 percent as non-hibernating. In two studies, inactive periods lasted from 1-8 days.

Chipmunks plug their den entrances when they go underground. They sleep much of the winter, waking periodically to eat. On still, sunny days they may leave the den briefly.

Some emerge to breed in late February or early March, but snow and cold may drive them back into dormancy. By late March, breeding is in full swing, according to the PGC.

I know that both Karen and I find them amusing little creatures and enjoy their antics while sitting and waiting. They help pass the time that sometimes seems next to eternal when watching for a deer to show. I always learn something when I'm out there or gather insight to a critter that I've watched all my life. In this case, I was surprised to read that they only live 2-3 years in the wild.

Of course the need to pay attention to the task at hand is always important, for I have been surprised more than once by a deer when watching squirrels and chipmunks. When it happens, most often the deer sees or smells me before I'm able to get a shot.

As I sit and watch, I often ask myself why? Why should I sit here and endure the cold, rain, winds, snow, sleet and whatever else nature decides to throw my way when I could be relaxing in the warmth of my own home?

Here I am, sitting on a small turkey stool with my knees almost touching my chin. My eyes ache from all the watching, my shoulders at times cramp. I'm moving so slowly you would think I was in slow motion.

I know that a deer can see the slightest movement, even when invisible to me, in the tangled undergrowth. I know that a sudden shift in the wind can, and often does, result in a snort and waving white tail that means "I'm out of here."

Already this year I've walked miles upon miles, sat for countless hours, have been rained upon and chilled to the bone as the fog lifted from the forest.

But I was able to see more than one hawk perched nearby before flying to parts unknown. I've studied the gnarled fingers of the grapevines and found the bounty of the mast crops that were so plentiful this year.

The walnuts found here reminded me of those in my childhood backyard, the ones I would have to rake into a pile and discard. Here, I found it amazing how squirrels and chipmunks could so easily remove the nuts inside.

To me, as a hunter there is an inner need to get out there and explore and to learn each and every day the needs and bounty of nature. There is no place on earth, no matter how small or fragmented by human development, that can compare to a tree that has fallen without the use of a chain saw that does nothing but decay and richen the earth.

There is no meat that can compare to that which is grown in the wilds. And finally, there is nothing that can bring me to my roots like my hunting and the surroundings in which it occurs.

Dave Wolf may be reached by email at wolfang418@msn.com