Hunting, Merino Wool Socks, and Staying Out There Long Enough to Notice

Whether you hunt for the meat in the freezer or use it as an excuse to sit in the woods for hours on end (equally valid), you need the right gear to keep you out there.

One wise old man told me, “The only thing that will send you home is cold feet.” We take that to heart around here.

I grew up in the farmland and woods of Addison County, Vermont, where hunting culture runs deep. Just one county over from where Darn Tough knits tried-and-true hunting socks. From spring turkey to late autumn white-tailed deer season, Darn Tough socks are made to handle the harshest conditions.

There are many lessons, even aside from how to layer properly, that hunting has taught me. Most outdoor recreation involves moving through the landscape—hiking, biking, trail running, canoe tripping, skiing—and yeah, you bet we knit socks for all of it. But hunting offers a unique intimacy and approach to one’s connection with the natural environment.

Learning the Field

During the 16-day rifle season, I return to the same spot every year: a small brush hogged parcel where a farmer’s hay field separates a dense forest. I face south towards the hay bales, leaving the woods to my east and west.

The Champlain Valley is known for its southern winds, funneled by the Adirondacks and Green Mountains. The winds are in my favor most days. But when crosswinds pick up, I head into the woods to still hunt, a method where you move slowly through the habitat, taking minutes between steps to scan for movement.

Still hunting is my backup plan, and a good way to learn animal trails, but I much prefer to be stationary. Posting, as it’s called, is hunting from a fixed position near deer trails, and it’s where I feel most attuned to place. That isn’t just about how the wind blows or how the sun sets over the corner of the field; while those are important — real understanding comes from all the inputs at once, and it takes an attentive mind to sort them out. It’s the animals, and their routines, that make a habitat an ecosystem.

The best example is from a few years ago, about ten days into rifle season, when it all clicked. I had spent five days in the field from before dawn well into dark, listening, watching, and taking notes on every animal that crossed my vision or called within earshot. I knew there was a doe and yearlings bedded in the tall grass near the woods to my right. I’d found the matted grass, tracks, and scat when I was tracking. I’d seen turkeys, foxes, and robins. I heard crows, red squirrels, and off to my left, before dusk, a barred owl.

Out of everything I logged, the barred owl mattered most. From the woods to my left, it hoots like clockwork, and before the sun could drop a few degrees to the horizon, the doe and yearlings stepped out and crossed the field in front of me. Day after day, the owl became the signal: the owl hooted, and the deer crossed.

That evening I waited, camouflaged in the tall grass, pulling my scope up to check for a trailing buck. Rifle season aligns with the rut season, when bucks are actively seeking a mate. They tend to be more mobile, chasing and traveling behind does, only revealing themselves when the does signal the coast is clear. No buck this time, so I’d try again another day.

Before I left, twilight settled in, and the leaves on the ground seemed to crisp up under my feet. I kept watching the deer, oblivious to me, as if I were a posted sign tacked to a tree. The yearlings began to play, chasing each other across the field in the last light, when human eyes can barely make out shapes, as if their guard had finally dropped. It was one of the most beautiful encounters I’ve had with wildlife and reminded me why I hunt. It’s the connection to the ecosystem and an intimate view into an animal's way of life.

I hunt for the connection I receive with nature, the resources the animals provide me, and help manage Vermont’s white-tailed deer population. Ethan Tapper, a Vermont author, wrote something in How to Love a Forest that I think about every season: “...to love deer is to kill deer.”

Where the Socks Come In

Don’t lose me. Socks play a role in all this. Actually, they’ve been with me through the entire hunt.

Look back at the evening: temperatures near freezing, frost on the leaves, and me sitting perfectly still. Stillness is the whole skill of posting, and it’s also the hardest thing on your feet.

When you’re sitting in a field for six hours, your heat source is minimal, and your feet are the first to let you know. Cold feet end more hunts than any other kind of discomfort, and they end them early, usually right before the sun goes down when the animals finally show up.

That's where Merino Wool earns its place. The wool fibers pack an amazing amount of warmth into surprisingly fine yarns thanks to an incredible warmth-to-weight ratio. Merino keeps insulating when it gets damp, whether that's frost, wet grass, or sweat from the walk in... it’s hard work staying quiet. Merino Wool pulls moisture away from your skin so your feet don't chill once you stop moving. It's also naturally odor resistant, which matters when you're trying to keep your scent to yourself.

My Preferred Hunting Socks

I’m not an expert hunter. I grew up hunting with my dad and sister, stepped away for college, and have been back in the field for the past three years. What I do know is socks, especially Darn Tough socks and which ones work best in which conditions. Hunting is one of them.

Posting:

During rifle season in November and muzzleloader in December, I reach for the Over-the-calf Heavyweight Hunting socks. They’re our thickest hunting sock and offer the most coverage when I’m sitting still in the woods, relying on a resting heart rate to keep me warm. They’re like sleeping bags for your feet and the over-the-calf coverage keeps not just your foot, but your legs warm too.

Tracking & Still Hunting:

When I’m tracking or still hunting, I’ll switch to the Boot Midweight Hunting socks. A slightly thinner option compared to our heavyweight. This sock helps keep my feet thermoregulated when pushing through the woods. I also prefer the midweight thickness when it’s important to keep a sense of the ground. Feeling a twig underfoot before you commit to the full step lets me stay stealthy when I’m moving through the woods.

Spring Turkey:

“Be bold, start cold” only works for ski touring and spring turkey hunting, where the walk in warms you up fast. I run the Lightweight Hunting sock with waterproof boots. The targeted ventilation on top of the foot and calf dumps heat... Perfect for warm days in the field or when a fair amount of rucking is involved in getting to your spot. These socks will help you get there and keep you comfortable when you stop to sit.

Whether you’re sitting at a fields edge in November, still hunting through the hardwoods, or walking out a turkey in April, there’s a Darn Tough Hunting sock for it. Go heavyweight for the long sits, midweight when you’re on the move and want to feel the ground, and lightweight when the days warm up and the miles add up. Pick your weight, lace up, and stay out there longer.

License to Notice

Everything I learned from that field came from staying out there long enough to notice. The owl, the does, the yearlings playing in the last light: none of it shows up in the first hour. It shows up on day five, after the cold has had its say and you’ve decided to stay anyway. Patience and good Merino Wool socks are what let you do that.

So, stop worrying about your feet and start paying attention to the owl.

About the Author

Dana grew up in Addison County, Vermont, and learned how to hunt from his father at a young age. He enjoys hunting whitetails with his sister KC, and he’ll be the first to admit that she’s a better shot than him, guaranteed.