Turn down civilization’s volume for sounds of fall

There is something special about those quiet moments found only in the outdoors, times when everything man-made seems to fade into the distance and you become enveloped in the music nature provides. If you stop long enough to pay attention, you will find yourself in the middle of a symphony whose individual notes tell their own story.

Perhaps my favorite melody is that played by the golden leaves of quaking aspen trees as they rattle in a cool mountain breeze. It is a song that plays for only a few weeks as the high country moves from late summer into fall. Add to that the sound of a bugling bull elk and the chatter of its mewing cows, and you will find yourself nigh unto heaven.

The moments associated with the first elk bugle I ever heard compose one of my favorite outdoor memories, and every once in a while, I like to replay the experience on my mind's video player.

The archery deer season was well underway, and I had been working my way along a sagebrush-covered ridge that overlooked a canyon choked with a thick stand of dark timber. A thunderstorm moving through the area brought with it cool temperatures and low-hanging clouds that covered the timber in a thick mist. I found a resting spot on a large boulder with a spectacular view and stopped to take it all in.

After a while, I heard the bugle, a song played so softly at first that I struggled to hear it. "Was that what I think it was?" I asked myself.

The bull was somewhere deep within the mist-covered timber, and his bugle seemed to drift lightly upward on the breeze. There it was again, a sound soulful and beautiful. It seemed to penetrate deep within my outdoor soul. I never saw the bull, but that didn't matter. His song was enough.

On another occasion, on another ridge far away from the sounds of civilization and campgrounds filled with people, I first heard the sound of the air current rushing over the outstretched wings of a bird as it passed closely overhead. In many ways, it resembled the sound of a distant jet airplane, building from its soft beginning to a loud climax as it passes and then fading into the distance.

That, too, was an unforgettable experience. Now I always take time to listen for it.

What mule deer hunter doesn't recognize the thump, thump, thump of a deer's bounding gate as it moves quickly away from something that makes it uncomfortable. Few things will cause your adrenaline to surge and your heart to race as quickly as the sound of a mule deer pounding out a beat unless it's more than one.

Then there is the coyote, sopranos of the wild. What outdoor enthusiast has not been sung to sleep as the evening fire dies out or awakened early in the morning by the songs of yodel dogs calling to one another across the wide-open expanses?

Consider also the laugh-imitating call of the chukar partridge, the honk of a Canada goose or the cackle of a flushing pheasant. Put these and other sounds together and you have nature's symphony, but if you want to hear it, you need to turn down the volume on civilization. Get away from the road and leave your four-wheeler or truck behind. Even a short jaunt that takes you just one drainage away from the road will open up a world of listening, viewing and hunting opportunity.

A little patience and a little quiet won't hurt, either.

During his cow elk hunt in October, for example, a friend left his truck and climbed to a vantage point where he had found indicators that elk were passing back and forth through the area. He settled in and watched, waited and listened. Others followed but couldn't seem to remain quiet. They saw nothing, heard nothing and soon went elsewhere. Meanwhile, Shane continued to watch, wait and listen.

Not long after the other hunters grew bored and took their chatter elsewhere, Shane heard something heavy moving through the brush, watched as a handful of cow elk emerged and then filled his tag.

Freelance writer Doug Nielsen is a conservation educator for the Nevada Department of Wildlife. His "In the Outdoors" column, published Thursday in the Las Vegas Review-Journal, is not affiliated with or endorsed by the NDOW. Any opinions he states in his column are his own. He can be reached at intheoutdoorslv@gmail.com.