What did I miss?  It’s a question that I often ask myself when I’m outdoors, be it hunting, fishing or hiking, in a quest to be more in tune to my surroundings

It’s a persistent and consistent habit that goes back to my mountain biking and trail running days.  I mention those activities because it always seemed like more of a challenge to take in as much as possible with the world whizzing by at a faster speed.

Fast and whizzing are both relative as I was certainly not the fastest in those sports, but I nonetheless prided myself on the ability to pick out sights in my periphery as I passed by either on two wheels or two feet, sights like a black racer sunning alongside the singletrack.

I remember a winter trail run years ago at Bonita when my path intersected the path of a buck tailing a doe in estrus.  The sight of the pursuit, the sound of the buck’s grunts, and the smells of the rutting buck left no doubt that love was in the air that day.  

Looking back now, I think the memory is still so vivid because it involved multiple senses.

These days, most of my outdoor endeavors involve walking or, in the case of fly fishing, wading, and, as such, I’ve got more time to take notice.  However, our fast-paced lives program us to do just the opposite. 

Our technology, specifically our phones, vies for our attention as well, and will take as much of it as we allow.  As a result, our attention spans are being reduced post by post and video by video. 

However, in a time ruled by technology, social media and the “fear of missing out,” I have managed to keep the bulk of my “FOMO” externally focused.  My biggest concern remains what am I missing out on outside by being glued to my device?  

Even with that dilemma solved, I realize that I still must often make it a point to slow down, breathe and focus.  Yes, “Mr. I noticed the snake when I was running,” still struggles from time to time.  

I’m grateful for that awareness as it means that I still care and can still address the issue, but I think the lack of focus is indicative of a more sinister problem.  More on that in a minute.

In his novel “True at First Light,” Ernest Hemingway speaks to this great failing of inattention:

“This looking and not seeing things was a great sin, I thought, and one that was easy to fall into.  It was always the beginning of something bad and I thought that we did not deserve to live in the world if we did not see it.”  

We look, but we do not see.  I agree wholeheartedly.  In fact, I think this failure to see is one of the reasons that so much of the natural world that surrounds us is simply taken for granted, the more sinister problem that I alluded to earlier.

I also believe that a by-product of this blindness of inattention is the commoditizing of our land, water and wildlife.  Wildlife becomes a “resource,” albeit a natural resource, to be managed, and water and land both become goods to be bought and sold.

Before I go further, I must admit my own hypocrisy in the thoughts that I have (and write about often) around managing our family farm for the betterment of both the land and the wildlife.  Yes, I try to steward this place in ways that benefit both the critters and the land.  

However, I also realize that prior to any of my interventions or the interventions of prior generations, the wild creatures, trees, and native plants that call this ground home were, most likely, doing just fine.  Perhaps I get credit for doing some good, perhaps not; but either way, I am looking and I am seeing

Aside from Hemingway, what got me thinking about this was the recent disclosure that Congress is proposing the sale of nearly half-a-million acres of Bureau of Land Management and U.S. Forest Service land in an effort to balance our national budget.

I’ve been the beneficiary of public lands and waters my entire life.  I grew up fishing at Sardis, Grenada and Enid lakes.  I spent a good portion of my undergraduate college years on the Noxubee Wildlife Refuge (much to the detriment of my grades from time to time).

A fair amount of my adult life has been spent in state and national parks and on public lands, and those destinations make up a large portion of my “bucket list” places to visit.  These lands and waters aren’t commodities to be bought and sold.

It has long been my intention to stay apolitical in this column and I don’t intend to sway from that; however, I feel led to make one point.  The people that would sell our public lands are people that, in the words of Hemingway, “look but do not see.”

On one of my last turkey hunts this spring, I was packing my calls into my vest, getting ready to leave my spot at the base of a large pine when I noticed an oddly-shaped chartreuse leaf from the corner of my eye.

The spring “green up” was in full effect, but something was different about this leaf that caught my attention.  The colors blended perfectly into the backdrop of the woods, but fortunately I saw something that made me pause.

Walking closer, I was treated to the sight of the most stunning Luna moth I believe I have ever seen. I would have already deemed the morning almost perfect, with gorgeous weather and a gobbling turkey.  The beauty of the moth completed that perfection.

I pray that I am always one who both looks and sees.  I pray that for you as well, as our world will be a better place for it.  Until next time, here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.