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Working around the lake and spending
a good number of days in each of the
four seasons either on the water or in the
bush, you come to appreciate not only
the obvious, but subtle transformations
taking place in the forest.
The fall brings a mixture of aromas, the
decaying leaves can have a sweet smell,
wild mint maturing in the muskeg has a
powerful fragrance, especially towards
evening when the air seems to be heavy
and a thin fog appears in low laying
areas. Many times you will stop, letting
your senses absorb and register the
moment, other times you will be touring
by and simply make a mental acknowledgement
as you have had similar experiences
on previous occasions.
One quite memorable fall day I headed
into the forest hoping to return with
several of the delectable upland game,
the prized ruff grouse.
Touring takes awhile, you never want
to go too fast for fear of missing one of
the prized birds, although there are times
when you must cover a lot of ground. As
the day progressed several birds found
their way into my basket and by now
I was few miles from the house where
you don’t normally run into anyone, but
here was the local rancher searching for
his wayward cattle.
I gave him the location of my last
sighting, we sat for a few minutes enjoying
the afternoon sun commenting on the
peacefulness one can find out in the
forest at this time of year, although it’s
not for everyone, some folks would find
the silence deafening. We parted and
I toured around Blackfoot lake, adding
another trophy to my basket.
The trail I was on is one of the original
Onion Lake trails which turns into the
Buffalo Camp Trail if you go west. Going
east there is a well known trapping
shack called Charlie Crookedneck’s
Cabin the trail takes you to Island Lake.
Coming along the trail I smelt a hint of
smoke and rounding the corner I could
see people were at the camp.
Charlie Crookedneck, his wife, oldest
daughter Velma and their friend Kathy
were out having a picnic in the bush, a
tradition they had come to enjoy over
the years. Each of the ladies had their
own fire going, cooking their own
version of bannock. Marie was not only
cooking bannock she also had swamp tea
along with moose meat and ruff grouse
cooking over her fire, they invited me
to join them. The memory of that day
unexpectedly running into friends and
neighbours, joining them in a forest feast
which I can only describe as the most
memorable conclusion to a perfect fall
day, will always be with me.
Recently, Charlie Crookedneck went
to meet his maker, the memory of this
day returned to me while at his wake,
celebrating his life.
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