I was sitting on the banks of a small island in the middle of my favorite smallmouth bass river.  Leaning back, I closed my eyes.

I was tired from getting up early to be on the water at first light.  Reaching the small island in calf-deep water, my body didn’t have to work too hard to convince my mind that it was time for a short break.

So I came to be sitting on the gnarled roots of a sycamore tree in mid-stream, head back, drinking in the sensations of the day.

The roots formed a perfect chair that was comfortably padded by fishing vest and rubber chest waders.  The temperature was also perfect and even the biting insects were cooperative and benign.

The day had already been a visual feast.  As the sun oozed through the trees lining the creek, it lit up the world in shades of gold and amber.  Rising mayflies were highlighted against the dark green background of shoreline vegetation and the faintest hint of steam rose off the water in the cool morning air.  It was worth a million pictures though not one would properly convey the moment.

After checking out a passing heron and one small cloud, I closed my eyes ostensibly for a just a moment before continuing in the moderately successful campaign of piscine harassment.  As I rested, mind open and relaxed, I detected a wonderful smell.  It was fruity and spicy like a classic perfume but disappeared after a few seconds on the wings of a faint breeze that had been stirred by the rising sun.

Opening my eyes, I found the source of the smell: a far-shore bush covered in white flowers.  It struck me as impressive that the delicious odor had filled my nose from such a great distance even with the assistance of the light wind.  While pondering this minor miracle, I realized how much we miss in the outdoors by ignoring our noses.

On my way back to the car I began to catalog all the olfactory sensations encountered along the way.  In a moment I began to wish I had brought along a notebook to record everything floating on the warm wind.

The primary bouquet cloaking the creek was that tangy, woody fragrance of the surrounding forest itself.  I have tried unsuccessfully many times before to describe this admixture of scent textures but anyone who has ever ventured into the summer woodlands would instantly recognize the smell.

The water itself gave off a clean but slightly fishy smell that made you realize it was a living, breathing organism, just like all the creatures that moved within.  It was a smell that reminded you of endless summer days spend swimming in the creek while you were still in the single-digit years.  It was a smell that inspired profound nostalgia.

Shallow mudflats on the periphery of the main channel also gave off a scent that was sharper and much closer to the unpleasant end of the spectrum.  The odor was rich, sulphurous and cloying on the nose.  In places where you stepped in rich black ooze that bubbled up like storm clouds in the water, the unmistakable smell of rot assaulted the senses from the oily rainbow-sheen bubbles that escaped around the edges of your boot.

Dry rocky bars covered with loose talus also gave off a smell like the creek but much more sterile, like the broken ends of a piece of chalk.  The sun-dried algae dotting the bar contributed to the smell except in those places where a small fish lay dead and drying in the growing sun.  There, the odor was a faint reminder of death, one link in the great chain.

Another whiff of sweet perfume caught my nose.  This time I couldn’t identify the source but it was something undoubtedly meant to catch the attention of pollinating bees from afar.  It was here, then gone like a flirting women in a crowd.  However, for the briefest second, it supremely tickled the pleasure center in the brain of a lone fisherman.

There were so many other smells and odors filling the humid air that my inefficient human nose eventually grew tired of trying to sort, catalog and describe them all.  The environment was simply too complex to grasp every tiny tendril or heavy hammer of scent that washed over me.

It brought me back to my original idea that we need to appreciate more fully the smells of the natural world.  It has been said that the sense of smell triggers some of our strongest recollections and I agree, but only if we take the time to recognize those things as they pass our faces, unseen, unheard and untouched.

Actually, if you can take the time to contemplate the rich fragrance of the outdoors, you cannot walk away untouched.

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