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Whispers Of The Wilderness

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Howdy, Neighbor. People have been telling Phil he’s a good storyteller for a long time… so we are trying something new and pretty-much non-sales Just sharing occasional sweet stories, tall tales, and life lessons learned around these parts. Northwoods Notes are a new, semi-bi-irregular peek into the heart and mind of Phil Frasier… you can read or listen… whichever you prefer… and you are receiving a copy because you’re a current customer of Frasier’s Plumbing and Heating, Inc. We think you’ll like them, but you can unsubscribe any time by clicking on the link at the bottom. But we hope you give us a chance!




This time of year stirs up memories of the great outdoors.

The arrival of September is like a gentle nudge from Mother Nature, signaling the start of grouse season. While it officially opened a couple weeks ago, the real magic happens when October rolls around.

As I watch the leaves turn and feel a certain crispness in the air, I reminisce about the adventures of my youth, guided by my dad.

My father would take me and my older brother out into the wilderness for grouse hunting. We’d wander along the trails, weaving through the trees and the fresh popple growth. As the leaves rustled underfoot and the thrill of the hunt filled the air.

Those woods were a playground of memories.

Archery season was also upon us, when we would eagerly anticipate the pursuit of deer and other game. My heart raced as I felt the deep connection to the wilderness, a bond passed down through generations.

What truly warms my heart is the memory of those early mornings with my dad. Sometimes, my mother would join us, and we’d pack a simple lunch and venture out to our favorite spots, moving with the rhythm of the forest. During these trips, my dad instilled in us the values of gun safety, patience, and the art of walking silently through nature’s landscape.

We’d move quietly, our senses acutely aware of the whispers of the woods. We were fueled by anticipation as we silently sought the elusive grouse. The excitement of finally spotting one was a reward for our patience and prudence.

In those serene morning hours, the forest would come to life before our eyes. Grouse emerged along the trails for their morning ritual of picking gravel to fill their gizzards.

They’d savor clover and popple leaves as we savored the beauty of nature awakening around us.

A bird standing in the grass. Across the top are the words

These trips were a tradition passed down from my grandpa to my dad, my dad to me, and now from me to my own children. My children have grown up sharing in the adventures of the outdoors and unlocking the wisdom of the woods.

In essence, my father taught me that the great outdoors is not just for hunting and fishing; it’s a school of life. It’s where you learn to be patient, silent, and attuned to the world around you as you await the moment when nature blesses you with its gifts.

Neighbor, as I reflect on these days spent in the outdoors, I can’t help but smile. These memories have shaped me into the man I am today, and they continue to inspire my adventurer heart.

May you also discover your own corner of the wilderness… and may its lessons guide you on life’s journey.

Take neighbor. Take good care.

Phil Frasier.

PS – Here’s a picture of my son Chad and daughter Megan on one of their first grouse hunts. Thanks Dad for handing down this tradition.

An old film photo of 2 kids hiking

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