While pedaling along a country road the other day, I swerved to avoid a wild turkey that scurried into the bushes at the precise moment a heady aroma wafted through the moist air.

I squeezed the brakes and inhaled deeply.

Aaaah. Wild concord grapes, imbuing one of nature’s most redolent fragrances.

I glanced back over my shoulder and watched half a dozen other turkeys dart recklessly across the road, evidently drawn by the same intoxicating bouquet emanating from vines wrapped around curbside shrubbery.

The ungainly birds were so intent on gobbling grapes that they risked getting run down by a bicycle, while I prudently pulled off the pavement, satisfied merely to whiff the essence of succulent, purple fruit.

Of course I could have invoked territorial imperative, chased the turkeys away and hogged all the grapes, but I figured they needed the nourishment more than I. Plus, there were at least seven of them, all voracious. No sense running afoul of hungry birds.

The scent of wild grapes is a more reliable harbinger of autumn’s approach than changing temperature, especially this year when summer’s suffocating heat and humidity have lingered like guests who overstay their welcome. By the way, as you probably know, fall officially begins at 9:54 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 22.

Soon there will be other reminders of seasonal transition — birches glowing yellow and maples turning crimson; the sun’s rays slanting more sharply as the lapse between rising and setting steadily shrinks; acorns and hickory nuts conking you on the head.

Throughout the year, most of use are so swept away by nature’s dramatic visual, sonic and tactile stimulation — meadows decorated by spring wildflowers; deafening thunderclaps during summer storms; snowflakes that sting the cheeks in winter — we overlook, or more accurately, undersmell more subtle signs of the season.

Not all of them are pleasant. Long before crocuses pop up and forsythia bloom in spring, the stench of skunks emerging from winter burrows permeate the air, along with manure spread on farmland.

But most seasonal fragrances are welcome: lilac blossoms, newly mown hay, wild onions, pine sap, and now, in addition to the redolence of concord grapes, the aroma of freshly pressed apple cider at the local mill.

Before too long, we also will start smelling smoke from woodstoves and fireplaces, a not-too-subtle reminder to many of us that it’s time to get busy cutting, splitting and stacking.

There are plenty of other chores ahead: a final weeding of the garden, spreading compost, planting garlic before the ground freezes, raking leaves and pruning blueberry bushes. Fall is also ideal for repairing stone walls, after the bugs have died off but before snow and ice coat the ground.

Speaking of snow and ice, I hope this winter doesn’t disappoint. I’d hate to miss out on cross-country skiing and skating — but I’m getting ahead of myself.

We have several weeks of swimming ahead — not counting the plunge into Fishers Island Sound on New Year’s Day, an annual tradition.

Bottom line: To enjoy the outdoors in all seasons, sometimes you simply need to follow your nose.