The hypnotic and romantic fall turnover
Perhaps no yearly event distinguishes genuine outdoorsmen from weekend warriors as effectively and reliably as the seasonal transition referred to as ‘fall turnover’. After much observation, I’ve noted what seems to be a very real disparity between anglers, hunters, and non-participants, in their reactions to that all-too-familiar feeling of fall in the air. I’ve also come to appreciate and value the part of my own temperament that allows my mood to improve, rather than deteriorate, upon witnessing the arrival of fall rains and gloomy days.
When Ernest Hemingway wrote the following words in tribute to a deceased acquaintance and fellow outdoorsman, during his first trip to Idaho in 1939, it seems that he too had visions of grey skies, swollen rivers, and falling leaves, dancing like sugarplums in his head. In addition to “the warm sun of summer and the high mountain meadows, the trails through the timber and the sudden clear blue of the lakes,” not to forget “the hills in the winter when the snow comes,” Hemingway noted that “Best of all he loved the fall...the fall with the tawny and grey, the leaves yellow on the cottonwoods, leaves floating on the trout streams and above the hills the high blue windless skies.” Upon analysis, it seems that the author’s words were equally a reflection of his own essence, and perhaps some archetype that characterizes the angler and hunter community. The aforementioned suspicion was partially confirmed 27 years after Hemingway’s initial eulogy, when the same words were engraved on his own monument, as it was erected in Sun Valley, Idaho, where it remains to this day. It’s no secret that the personalities of great authors shine through in their great works, but it may also be worth mentioning that anglers and hunters can, at times, be just a tad self-involved.
The sudden drop in temperature— which generally follows the passing of a low pressure system, and if timed correctly, marks the beginning of what we call fall turnover—provides a convenient indication of the season’s changing, and also great incentive for anglers and other outdoorsmen to break out of their prolonged summer slump. Fall’s commencement constitutes the first significant change in angling context since the previous spring-summer transition, and in many instances, is a catalyst for increases in fish and angler activity. Following this significant change in conditions, gamefish with a wide range of temperature preferences will—generally speaking—‘get to feeding,’ while anadromous and migratory fish ‘get to moving.’ The end result is many desirable gamefish becoming more accessible, and perhaps more importantly, more aggressive. Studying how a desired species reacts to precise changes in water temperature can be worth the effort, but instincts and qualitative observation are often sufficient to point an angler in the right direction. For years now, the falling of the first apple from a tree in one of my fishing buddies’ backyards has coincided closely with our catching of the first fall steelhead that year. While a causal relationship between fruit and fish seems doubtful, I feel much more optimistic that these two events share some type of common cause.
There is no reason to suspect that the environmental changes which signal fall’s arrival to humans are not also felt— directly or indirectly—by fish and game. In my experience, the seasonally occurring ‘itch’ that grows slowly into a ‘burn’ as the season progresses, and is felt by virtually all avid outdoorsmen, compelling them to make their first trips to the river or tree stand, is a reliable sign that game activity is also stirring. Instincts and confidence are indispensable parts of successful angling and hunting, and participants from all camps should remain mindful of such impulses. Shortly after the initial transition from summer to fall, game fish activity will increase, and subsequently, so will the demand for sizeable food items. During the fall season, it is often wise to sacrifice finesse presentations and surgical precision for a more up-tempo brand of fishing that allows for the covering of more water, and presentation of a sizeable offering to the greatest number of potential candidates. For river smallmouth bass, this might mean spinnerbaits or murdich minnows fished quickly overtop of and and all potential holding water, and for big water esox anglers, absurdly large soft plastic baits worked tirelessly over vast expanses of shoreline. When considering how best to appeal to a fall gamefish with some notion of the approaching winter season, the logical conclusion often involves the presentation of a fast and easy, calorierich meal.
I find it amusing to consider how one or several unobvious natural phenomena might simultaneously stimulate behavioural change in anglers, hunters, and their animal subjects. The things that cause bucks to begin scraping, steelhead to begin migrating upriver, hunters to begin sighting their rifles, and spey anglers to shake off the casting cobwebs, seem undoubtedly overlapping and interrelated. Although I can’t say with any certainty what exactly instills a childlike exuberance and anxious anticipation of angling opportunities in me each year at the beginning of fall, I can’t help but feel that some primal, remnant gene is what’s pulling me from warmer accommodations and more conventional fall activities toward remote fields and streams with a seemingly hypnotic force. I can only speculate about its source, but I get the sense that this feeling has its origins in a time when humans lacked the luxuries that would enable us to spend the first day of fall with a warm drink in hand, or reading, or perhaps visiting a pumpkin patch.