There’s a certain energy that hits the woods when the first rays of spring sun warm the forest floor. You can hear it in the drip of melting ice, see it in the fresh deer tracks along a muddy trail, and feel it deep in your bones if you’ve ever spent a winter waiting for green. For the Iroquois people—those who called themselves the Haudenosaunee, or "People of the Longhouse"—spring was more than just a season. It was a call to hunt, a return to rhythm, and a time when survival met ceremony.

The Season of Renewal—and Opportunity

As someone who hunts and fishes every chance I get, I’m always in awe of how in tune early peoples were with their surroundings. Spring among the Iroquois was when winter stores ran thin, but the woods began to offer up their bounty again. As Mary Englar notes in "The Iroquois: The Six Nations Confederacy" (2004), families wintered in fortified villages living off dried corn, beans, squash, and smoked meats. But when the snow began to melt and the rivers swelled, the hunt was back on.

Deer trails opened up with the thaw, turkeys called from budding trees, and small game stirred in the underbrush. These weren’t just targets—they were part of a careful, respectful relationship with the land.

Hunting Tactics Rooted in the Forest

In Bruce Johansen’s book "The Iroquois" (1996), he describes how spring hunts combined stealth, teamwork, and ancestral knowledge. Ambushes were common—hunters concealed themselves with cedar branches or smeared mud on their skin to blend into the early-season woods. Every movement was measured, every step silent.

They hunted with bows crafted from ash or hickory, strung with sinew and tipped with stone or bone. I've handled a few replica bows in my time, and let me tell you: to bring down a deer with one clean shot took real skill. For small game like rabbit and squirrel, traps and lighter bows were used, often in teaching moments between elders and the next generation. Turkey hunts, especially, were a family affair. Calls carved from turkey wing bones were used to mimic hens—a tradition some still honor today with modern diaphragm calls and slate pots.

The River Provided, Too

Like many of us who eagerly await the first big trout run each spring, the Iroquois knew the rivers were about to come alive. Along the Mohawk and Genesee, they used basket traps, spears, and weirs—clever stone walls built to guide fish into shallow pools. In "League of the Ho-dé-no-sau-nee, or Iroquois" (Morgan, 1851), there are accounts of drying racks and smoking fires set up along these streams to preserve the bounty.

Fishing wasn’t just about filling bellies. It was part of a larger system of seasonal survival and celebration. And if you’ve ever stood in a creek at sunrise with a rod in your hand, you know the feeling they must’ve had.

The Sacred Rhythm of the Hunt

What really stands out to me as an outdoorsman is the Iroquois mindset toward the hunt. According to Encyclopaedia Britannica, the Haudenosaunee believed that all life was connected. Before heading into the forest, hunters would offer tobacco to the land and speak to the spirits of the animals. If a deer was taken, its heart might be returned to the earth as a sign of gratitude.

There was no room for waste or ego. It was about balance. About taking only what you needed. That mindset—respecting the animal, the land, and the tradition—is a tradition that cannot be ignored.

“The land provides, as long as we do not forget to thank it.”

Legacy in Today’s Woods

Whether I’m glassing for early spring toms or easing into a trout stream with the first thaw, I carry some of that reverence with me. We may have different gear—fiberglass rods, carbon arrows, Gore-Tex boots—but the spirit is the same.

Today’s hunters, outfitted with trail cams, high-powered optics, and precision rifles, still owe a great deal to ancestors who hunted with instinct and respect. Modern spring hunting tactics—like patterning turkeys before the season, scent blockers, and choosing the right time to strike based on wind and light—all echo ancient wisdom. Even the practice of scouting terrain and tracking movement patterns mirrors the Iroquois knowledge of game trails and feeding habits.

But perhaps more important than any gear or technique is the mindset we inherit. The Haudenosaunee hunted with the understanding that they were part of the forest—not above it. That’s a lesson we can carry into every season.

So as you head out this spring, take a page from the old ways:

• Move slow and observe the wind.
• Know the land you’re walking.
• Respect the game you pursue.
• Leave no sign but your gratitude.

Because long before there were blaze orange vests and compound bows, there were hunters who knew the woods like an old friend—and thanked them every time they returned.