For me, November is a month for contemplation, connection and gratitude. It is a time of endings and new beginnings. The last oak leaves fall, and the evergreens begin to enjoy their own long season in the sun that lasts until the budburst of hardwoods in April and May.

The first truly cold nights set in, and the ice creeps in on shaded ponds and wetlands. The sun’s low angle in the sky makes for noticeably shorter days, but also grants us spectacular sunrises and sunsets. For those who take or make the time to notice, November’s daily rhythms are full of wonder and awe.

Beach-going days are decidedly over now. A brief swim on a local pond post-Election Day was a stark reminder of this, despite the warm air temperatures that day featured. Water-based recreation is all but over now, too. I always hold out hope for “one last paddle” until the ice finally closes that door until spring. Will this year permit a December paddle once again? It seems to be the way the seasons are going.

On the topic of a changing climate, this past month’s unseasonable warmth has granted outdoor lovers extended fall hiking conditions. Some take to the trails with hiking poles, but others enjoy the outdoors in camouflage, hunting season their ultimate way of connection to nature and the outdoors. Sharing the woods with the hunters and the hunted, I don a blaze orange hat and binoculars in pursuit of my quarry – the season’s remaining birds and other fleeting signs of the changing season.

The woods lack the chatter and color of summer’s songbirds now. As limited food resources become scarce and more patchily distributed, so do the life forms that rely on them. The lengthy raptor migration season at Pack Monadnock, which began in late August, has come to an end. Many migratory birds have already passed, leaving behind the resident woodpeckers, chickadees, ravens, blue jays, and a few hawks, too – some of which have migrated here from places further north.

Waterfowl move through and find temporary food and shelter on the region’s numerous lakes, ponds and wetlands. If and when the ice comes, though, their time visiting us will quickly pass, too.

There’s more than meets the eye as this season turns, and much of the activity in the animal world occurs by moonlight or in total darkness. In the mammalian world, bears pile on the winter fat, devouring acorns and other seeds (such as those at your bird feeding stations – be bear aware!), and squirrels and chipmunks store a cache of the same for the coming winter.

As the season’s bounty dwindles, mammals such as the beaver must work quickly and efficiently. Beavers operate tirelessly under their namesake full November moon (the “beaver moon”) as they prepare a winter cache of branches to access as a life-saving reserve under iced-in lodges. On ponds and marshes, the beaver’s presence is notable during this busiest of all times for our largest rodent species, especially if you search at dusk.

Every month has an identity marked by weather, daylight, “feel” and phenology, or timing of natural occurrences. But it’s getting harder to set your clock to these queues. A warm spell in November may elicit memories of earlier in the fall, or perhaps it conjures up a spring day? Would you know the season without a calendar to follow? I, for one, wouldn’t associate a prolonged drought with late fall, but here we are in our new climate of extremes and irregularities.

Rest assured, one can still find grounding and guidance in the natural world by paying close attention to the signs that abound, learning from experiences, resources and mentors. The woods, fields and wetlands are our natural habitats, too, even if we’ve suffered a collective amnesia resulting from a disconnection to these spaces. We’re fortunate here to have wild spaces to turn to where natural processes still rule and impart their lessons on the attentive observer.

As we turn inward during this quieter and darker season, we also reach outward to embrace our families, friends and communities. We chase the fading daylight in more ways than one. It’s only natural we continue to reach out to nature which sustains us through these periods, too.

As the daylight fades over the next month, seek out the spectacle of a sunset over a distant hill or across a roadside pond. Find a way to connect to the natural world each day – whether at your bird feeders, the edge of your backyard, a hunting stand, a town park or a local conserved space with trails.

Make a practice of it. You may find joy and connection in the ordinary during this quiet season, and you may realize it is truly quite extraordinary. This practice may bring peace, healing, knowledge, and perspective – all things we can all use a little more of now, and always.

Phil Brown is bird conservation director and land specialist at Harris Center for Conservation Education in Hancock.