By Stephanie WaltonPhotos by Chad Love
In grade school we are taught about seasons: Spring. Summer. Fall. Winter.
Since discovering the uplands I have come to find there are many more seasons than just those which deal with weather patterns.
This is what crosses my mind as I trail behind my close friend across a mountainside on a grand desert morning. We are hunting quail, and her grace and speed in this terrain resembles a lithe, sure-footed mountain goat, whereas my long legs more accurately resemble an awkward newborn elk calf; my speed a bit more like that of a fattened black bear preparing for a winter’s slumber.
As I walk, I run my hands through the tall waist-high grass. Breathe in the cool winter air. Although the New Mexico quail season has not yet closed, I can feel February 15 approaching, and a lump grows in my throat with each passing day.
Seasons are on my mind, and I am suddenly and fully aware of not only the winter season and hunting season of the moment, but of the seasons we are granted with each other.
Seasons come and seasons go — much like life and the people that bring us meaning. They arrive, stick around, leave and, if their presence and friendship in your life is true, they return in the most unexpected ways. I have borne witness to each.
Even now, I realize that my young, dear setter Sven will not run in front of me forever. Some people will not stick around to share this moment’s beauty, and familiar arms may not always be present to comfort whether it be by choice, destiny or simply because the sun has set for their time on this earth.
I came to upland hunting late, and my now-deep connection with the combination of landscape, shotgun, dog, and bird has allowed me to accept this. However, I have also come to realize that more important than someone’s duration in your life, is the reason or even timing for their presence.
A decade ago, you’d hear me say, “Quit asking why. What is, is what is.”
I still consider that 26-year-old female wise and true, and while I still believe we should not ask for answers we cannot accept, I now realize that we should be observant of answers, for fate and nature will deliver what we are willing to see. However, we must be ever so present to notice the paths that led loved ones — friends, family, hunting partners — to us, and accept the reason for their season to be grateful and learn from them.
In both bird hunting and life, beginnings excite me, the journey comforts me, and the endings downright make me sad. But I find peace knowing that there will always be someone or something — a person or a moment or a season — that will come along and allow me to start the journey anew.
But until I am worthy enough to find the answers for the comings and goings of the seasons in my life, I will wait. Wait for the other season that breathes life to my soul, calms my aching heart, and grounds my feet. The season that frees my and my dogs’ souls. The season that brings adventure and both excites and challenges me to my very being.
That season is the upland season.
Stephanie Walton is the president of the Enchanted Quail Forever chapter in New Mexico.
This story originally appeared in the 2022 Spring Issue of the Quail Forever Journal. If you enjoyed it and would like to be the first to read more great upland content like this, become a Quail Forever member today!