Maybe if I take five more steps, throw one more mend, skate one more fly, a hero will appear, armored in chrome, and dance to the music of my singing reel.
Calf deep now in the cold river, Trent’s completed his prelude of silky false casts and is ready to start the show in earnest.
Over the course of 6 trips, in and out, and nearly 40 miles, I question whether or not it’s worth it.
Folding neatly the greenhead splashed soundly onto the water. The old lady made quick work of the retrieve.
Purple mountain majesties get all the ink. But for every picture-postcard perfect acre of Tetons, Big Horns or Snowys in Wyoming, there are ten of high desert sagebrush steppe – and they do the heavy lifting. They never make the movies or the magazine covers. They just make the antelope, sage grouse and elbow, Read More
Sluggish in the heart of winter, they rarely come to the surface. Small nymphs drifting by their nose comprise the bulk of their diet. A move of more than a few inches constitutes significant effort. With trout lurking in deep pools, some of us moth ball the fishing gear until spring, waiting for the bugs to, Read More
“Dada, Dada, look! Is that chukar poop?” asked the kindergartener. “Not sure son. It’s bird poop, for sure, but probably not chukar poop. Hard to say.” “Well if it is, than we’re in a goooood hunting spot, cause there’s LOTS of it!” The cards were stacked against us. We knew that much going in., Read More
Over the years I’ve done a handful of european mounts myself. It’s always tedious and doesn’t turn out as well as it would if done by a professional. But I like the process and often don’t want to throw down the money to have a taxidermist do the job. This year I had decent, Read More
By Kirk Billings I finished up bird season last year with a bad knee, a mile and a half march across obscenely muddy flats, and a single chukar in my vest. I’d had to scrounge shells for my 20 gauge to eke out the day and a broken strap on my gaiters flailed along, Read More
Snow stacks up on the windowsill and in the mountains. It’s good for fish, good for grass, good for ungulates. Those are fleeting thoughts in the back of my mind. Mostly I keep my eye on the snow report at the local ski area. I take a leisurely morning to clean the garage and, Read More
“Dada, is this one pokey?” “Yep.” “Um… cause it’s got a hook on it?” “They all have hooks son. Careful.” “Ok, I will. But then… if I get poked a little… then um… then I’ll just be brave. Ok Dada?” The next day would bring the year’s first fishing trip and we had some, Read More
Sleeping bag tucked under my arm and Sorel boots in my opposite hand, I boarded the bus with my head down. I was the only kid carrying those items. As a freshman in high school I was embarrassed by the extra gear. But my dad wasn’t letting me leave home without it. Raised in, Read More
You greet 5 a.m. with your boots on, headed up-hill. By dawn, you are miles from camp and have a band of twelve elk in your binocular. They’re grazing lazily away from you along the opposite slope, flirting with rifle range in the early morning quiet. And like you, they are standing on public, Read More
After years of talk we finally pulled the trigger and got a boat. We had debated the merits of a raft vs. drift boat, new vs. used, and mostly how the heck we could pay for either. In the end a used drift boat with a price we couldn’t resist fell into our lap. It’s, Read More