Many animals can clue you in to what is nearby, especially a red squirrel, top, shown infringing on a gray squirrel’s territory. Red squirrels can be annoying, and loud, when they see you, but can also provide an alarm if it’s something else they see. Robert F. Bukaty/Associated Press

Prime time had finally arrived, that magical last 30 minutes of the evening when deer start stirring. I was straining my ears for any cue that one might be nearby, a task made more difficult by the flock of songbirds that had suddenly descended upon the scene. Their tweets, chips and rustling as they foraged in the leaf litter made quite a commotion and I was mentally cursing them when I heard the distinct alarm call of a cardinal. Something else was coming.

The woods are full of creatures besides the ones we pursue. They can be distracting, and even annoying. Often we pay them little if any attention, but sometimes they offer helpful cues that could put us in a better position to seal the deal.

It was early afternoon and the gray squirrels were busily foraging, hopping along the forest floor to find acorns, chewing some and burying others. The din had become almost monotonous when I heard three quick bounds, claws scratching bark as a squirrel scurried up a tree, then the barking of an alarmed squirrel. Others soon joined the chorus from safely elevated perches and I strained eyes and ears to see what was the cause. Moments later a gray fox trotted though an opening, eliciting excited barks from the nearest squirrel overhead. The fox was not on my list of quarry for the day but it did remind me to pay more attention to my surroundings.

Red squirrels can be particularly annoying to big-game hunters. A fellow I shared bear camp with once said, “If bears made as much noise, pound-for-pound, as those red squirrels, you’d need ear plugs to go in the woods.” Even ignoring us they’re noisy but when they discover us, they announce it to all within earshot with a cacophony of squeaks, chips and rattles. It can be downright disturbing, until you realize they do the same thing to other large creatures encountered in the forest. This early warning system has aided me enough that I’m willing to withstand their scolding.

Somewhat the same can be said of blue jays. For the most part they mind their own business, flitting among the treetops as they forage for acorns, uttering an array of muted warbles and buzzes. Then they find a camouflage hunter carefully concealed in a tree and the alarm is sounded, with sharp shrieks that summon others of their kind. It must be just as unnerving to avian predators, which is probably the point. Regardless, when you hear it and the attention is not directed toward you, it’s time to pay heed to your surroundings.

Black bears are sometimes called black ghosts of the forest, and for good reason. I’m continually amazed at how a creature weighing several hundred pounds can walk silently through the woods, even in the stillest conditions. In fact, that deafening silence was one of the first clues I learned might signal the approach of a bear, though at first I didn’t recognize why. Then I had a revelation. The din of crickets had become so loud and monotonous that I ignored it, until it ceased. That meant something else was stirring nearby.

These are but a few examples among many that hunters can use to their advantage. Crows cawing over a field ahead might mean turkeys in the field. Birds flushing from the underbrush could be fleeing an approaching mammal. The stoic stare of a doe could mean a silently approaching buck. Pay attention to everything around you and in time you’ll learn to recognize more cues.

Bob Humphrey is a freelance writer and Registered Maine Guide who lives in Pownal. He can be reached at: bob@bobhumphrey.com