Pennsylvania Game News - June 2013 - 49

a slow cascade of light to the ground.
The view changed from predawn
monotones to a full palette, vibrant
greens of new leaf and old moss and
wildflowers underfoot in spring beauty
pink, red-wine trillium, and the blues
and yellows of woodland violets.
Rose-breasted grosbeak, indigo
bunting, the clown-costume of the
male wood duck you jumped from the
creek going to your calling site. And
the gobbler that succumbed to your
lovelorn hen sounds, what about him
do you treasure? Not the turkey dinner
and not even the beard and long spurs
so much as the sight he made when he
walked into the sunshine.
The bird’s head not only lit up, the
white crown seemed to shine with an
inner glow. The blue neck was nearly
neon and the crimson wattles looked
splashed by artist pigment. The head
was framed by the dark half-shell of
the strutting tail, but, oh, the rest of
the bird! The breast and the back were
iridescent, refracting kaleidoscope
colors that changed as the gobbler
moved. Other people may think a
turkey is black, but we hunters know
they’re wrong.
Seeing a turkey isn’t so easy when
its surroundings are drowned beneath
a dreary overcast. Without the beacon
of sunshine, the sharpness of shape
and ability to pick out form, the subtle
changes of textures and tones and the
telltale revelations of contrast and
color are lost.
Why are these important to us
hunters? If we’re observant and if we
know what to look for, the sun will
reveal minute differences in color
and material. With the sun’s help, for
instance, we can pick out the smoothness of grayish-brown deer hair from
JUNE  2013

the roughness of brownish-gray bark
and rock.
I spotted a buck that had nearly
been given up as lost, even though the
shooter felt the arrow-hit was good,
when the sun shifted a little in the sky.
Once the blood trail ran out on the
shaded side of the hill, we were reduced
to scanning the dimness for the downed
deer. I must have looked at hundreds of
deer-body-shaped boulders and chunks
of fallen logs, without seeing it. When
the sun peeked over the ridge, I was
stopped short by a spotlighted “rock”
that had hair. The sheen of the pelt
gave it away.
On a sunny day, hunters can play the
game of glint and shadow, and not just
for recovering game. We can watch for
the quick glare off a set of antlers that
pass through a patch of sun or the shine
of a bear’s sleek, black coat. Sun brightens the white of a deer’s tail, rump and
ears, the hairs reflecting light as well as
displaying their inherent color. We may
even see a sparkle from its eyes or the
shine of its wet nose.
A cloudy day casts no shadows.
Although we “know” that light must
be coming down from above, it seems
to be bouncing at us from all around,
and it is. The clouds filter and diffuse
the light, bending and rerouting it.
Nothing seems very three-dimensional
under lowering skies and most objects
appear flat. But the geometric quality of
solidness jumps out at us when the sun
shines, not so much because of glint as
because of shadow.
Under clear skies, the sunlight’s
path is more straight-line, truly like a
stage light. Objects in the forest have
a shadow on their underside when it’s
sunny. We hunters have an easier time
picking out the horizontal blockiness of
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Pennsylvania Game News - June 2013

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