Pennsylvania Game News - January 2013 - 49

A LATE-WINTER ﬂintlock hunter returns to the parking lot after the weather turns nasty. The photo was taken through a rainstreaked window by a hunter who made it back to a nice warm vehicle ﬁrst.

through town in the dark en route to be at our hunting spot at dawn, but later learned it was more than 20 below. We were all well bundled for the cold we encountered, but knew it felt unusual. Colder than the winter cold we’d become accustomed to. I remember the odd crunching of my insulated boots on the skiff of snow and frozen leaves as I trudged to an edge where evergreens met oaks. Just how cold is it, I wondered. I took a stand against a big oak trunk, sitting with my squirrel riﬂe on my lap. I was surprisingly comfortable, seated on an insulated pad, swathed in ﬁberﬁll and wool, with a scarf pulled over my cheeks and nose. I was ready for any gray or black bushytail to appear. None did. Not until the sun had climbed high and imparted its warmth to the dark hemlock boughs beside me. About the time I shrugged off the scarf and took my gloved hands out of my pockets, the scratch of squirrel nails on bark told me the game was, indeed, afoot. I don’t remember how many squirrels I shot that January day; it was less than a limit but more than one. My companions had similar luck, from late morning on. We saw deer, too, and bumped some feeding grouse. I guess the lesson learned is to be sure to get out and hunt on the bright and cold January days, but you don’t have to be out at sunup. Then there are the “nasty” winter days of the month. To be truthful, I like these equally as well as the “nice” days, but I don’t volunteer to go out in them. If the weather turns bad when I’m out there, that’s all to the good. Not because it helps the hunting, but because it’s an important part of the January experience. If you haven’t been out in a January storm, you have missed something, including bragging rights.
JANUARY 2013

Bob Steiner

On such a day the morning might start pleasantly, with a light overcast, if not sun-ﬁlled. Game may move and you may get some shooting, or at least see enough to keep your hunting outlook positive. But then the day changes; you can feel it. Subconsciously you know something unsettling is going to happen. There may be a new quietness or a picking up of the wind. Even the squirrels that had been peeking around the oak trunks and chattering at you are no longer heard or seen. The clouds thicken, the light diminishes and dull grayness falls on the landscape. Your ﬂuorescent orange vest and hat seem brighter, while all the other colors around you become muted. You wonder if your watch has stopped and if night is coming early, although it comes fast enough on a January day. Then the snow starts. I remember a day like that, hunting deer in ﬂintlock season. My companions and I had separated, but were hunting more or less toward each other, moving slowly and being watchful. I booted out a deer when I ﬁrst entered the woods and got the kind of glimpse that says “buck,” but couldn’t have answered why, if asked. I followed
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Pennsylvania Game News - January 2013

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