When I scribed my first weekly outdoors column for the Lancaster New Era in April 1987, I had a nagging fear that I would relatively quickly run out of things to write about.

I mean, just how many times could I write about local residents fishing, hunting, boating, hiking, birdwatching or some other outdoors pursuit without trodding over the same ground?

Turns out, nearly 38 years later, I woefully underestimated how many nuanced ways there are to enjoy the outdoors and how many Lancaster Countians have stories to tell.

As I write this, some 1,643 Outdoor Trails columns later in exploring the great outdoors, my story idea list is still long and engaged readers contact me with new ones almost weekly. But at nearly 72, it’s time to shelve the typewriter and enjoy the outdoors without having to write about it.

What a hike it’s been.

Check out some of Ad's final columns from 2024

Out outdoors farewell column with bear cub 1 D22.jpg

Outdoors columnist Ad Crable cradles a tranquilized bear club in the Poconos in 1987.

I’ve helped band bats, kestrels and northern saw-whet owls. I’ve held rattlesnakes, wolves and bear cubs. I’ve waded along with hellbenders, the strangest creature I ever expected to see in Pennsylvania. I’ve heard the calls of the wild from packs of coyotes, bull elk, bobcats and a porcupine in heat.

In 25 winters, I’ve backpacked to Pennsylvania’s wildest places to sleep in the snow with wonderful people from Lancaster County who also are stirred by the outdoors in all seasons.

My, things have changed. I’ve been witness to the proliferation of rail-trails in our county, e-bikes, the use of the outdoors as a great escape during COVID, the deployment of field cameras to gain intimate glimpses of our favorite wildlife, the use of citizen science to help researchers keep tabs on wild things.

I’ve helped chronicle the comeback of bald eagles, ospreys, otters and elk. I was there when the first fishers, captured in New Hampshire, were reintroduced into the Pennsylvania wilds in 1994. I hope to see the American marten returned to its native forests before I die.

And I’ve been around for the sad retreat of pheasants and bobwhite quail, American hemlock trees, monarch butterflies, fireflies and too many songbirds. With alarm I’ve watched foreign invaders like snakeheads, flathead catfish, gypsy moths (I know, I know they’re called spongy moths now), Asian ladybugs, stink bugs, spotted lanternflies, emerald ash borers and others attack native species.

Our prized big-game animal, white-tailed deer, are threatened by chronic wasting disease, and our colony bat species have nearly been wiped out by white-nose syndrome.

Check out more of Ad Crable's final columns from 2024

Out outdoors farewell column Ad in snow D22.jpg

In 1988, Ad Crable accompanied Lititz Boy Scouts on an overnight cross-country ski/backpacking trip to New York's snowy Tug Hill Plateau.

It pains me that too many people who can affect policy don’t take climate change as the existential threat it is.

But I’m also given hope by advances in science such as satellite technology that can track birds, butterflies and fish for thousands of miles and a buck deer’s minute-by-minute wanderings. We’ve even re-discovered the benefits of the old ways such as controlled burning to boost native plants.

And I’m inspired, too, by such groups as the Lancaster Conservancy that is fighting to preserve and improve our last natural places, the Donegal Chapter of Trout Unlimited for their dedication to improve our coldwater streams and Lancaster Clean Water Partners for making our waterways the best they can be.

Most satisfying of all has been the enduring relationship with you, the readers. You’ve steered me to special places. Through a story about a woman from Lancaster County who fostered orphaned bear cubs, I was introduced to the Pine Creek Valley, my favorite place in Pennsylvania.

I’ve met people through stories who have become lifelong friends. To cite just one example, Lancaster city resident Ange Horst called me at the office one day in January 2013 and said there was a snowy owl on the roof outside her back door. I didn’t believe her but went to take a look anyway. She was right and Ange and Sheldon Horst have become dear friends and fellow adventurers ever since.

Some of the readers who regularly contact me for advice seem to think I’m an outdoors authority of sorts. I’m ever flattered but I am not. I am an amateur naturalist at best. But I tried to research each and every subject beforehand so I could ask intelligent questions of the people who knew and draw out what was special about each story.

Because of you I have seen so many amazing things and been to places of beauty that fill my heart. I thank you for that.

As age advances, I simply can’t just step outside anymore and be enveloped by the outdoors. My heart and legs for the first time trump my will to climb and wander.

Fortunately, I can be moved by nature without being in top shape. I can mosey along well enough. I can see, hear and smell. I can read. My view beyond my desk near the Conestoga River right now is a flurry of activity around a flock of bird feeders and a heated bird bath.

In my new world without writing deadlines, I will be spending more time burrowing in my pollinator garden, reading, cat napping, visiting friends, birdwatching, fly fishing, hunting, puzzle making and expanding my culinary abilities.

Just because I won’t be your literary guide to the outdoors anymore, I’d still love to hear from you. My email is acrable@verizon.net. I may even write a cameo outdoors story here and there.

Be well and get outside.

Newsletter

What to Read Next

Tags