60 days.
I'm often up early, getting some work done with a cup of coffee on my porch. Been noticing it bit by bit, but today it seems the sun has hit that point where it takes more effort for it to clear the horizon. The minute or two each day have now become measurable since summer solstice.
The blackbirds in the slough across the street appear to have fledged as the numbers when walking the dog have quadrupled. The cardinals are more active during the day. I haven't seen any waterfowl to speak of, molt is peak, the exception being the roaming hoards of canada geese that make the parks and business lawns their feeding grounds.
After the heat of last week the breeze yesterday seemed to bring an advanced "Hello" from fall. It's a sense the woods around the house have reached their peak maturity. With job changes I don't get around farms like I used to, but I'm guessing, even with the late planting, anything standing has neared it's max foliage and will focus on fruit production now. Growing degree days, adding weight, and then praying for a dry fall.
The gear/equipment heart attack has started. Garage cleaning is taking shape in anticipation of the transition from summer to fall. Guns need to be dusted and shot a bit. The decoys are getting the annual, "do I need these?" once over... the answer is typically "no", but back on the shelf they go. Much of the hunting equipment doesn't get the use it once did, when weekends were spent burning the countryside, often being the only group in a community or county campground. Don't shoot as many birds on average now, but have gained comfort and reliability. This must be what maturity feels like. I call it "getting old". It's just too damned easy to walk out a cabin door, get in a boat, and go hunting. And have heat, a kitchen, a sh!tter, refrigerator, freezer, a decent place to clean birds, and decent chairs for drinking whiskey. I guess Old doesn't suck all that bad, the sacrifices we make....