Rays of golden sun and smoke gray clouds fight for dominance. Ultimately the sun wins. The Wyoming wind also has skin in the game and seeks to make a shot at the title. The dogs and I are merely props in the scene. Pulling up a hood and zipping my collar I seek to keep warm. The, Read More
Plastic exploded as the wiper blades snapped against the windshield. I’d hoped to free ice from the blades and return quickly to the warming cab. Instead, a quick audible had me limping to an auto parts store for new wipers. The line was nearly out the door. Seems the whole town was in the, Read More
Dogs fly out of their kennels. An energetic ball of dust builds with each concentric circle. Coolers, duffels, and water jugs litter the ground. Chaos is distilled into organization. Camp is established.
“So…there is something I haven’t told you yet” I said to my buddy as we made last minute arrangements for an out of state bird hunt. “Uh…all right lets’s hear it.” “Well…I’m bringing Grady.” Silence “Not for the whole trip,” I pressed on. “We are going to rendezvous with my Dad in Montana and drop, Read More
Summer is in full swing. Runoff is over and water is shaping up in most parts of the country. Early morning tricos, attractor dries and hoppers will be the name of the game for the rest of the season. In short it’s a good time to be fishing. But something else is afoot. I stopped, Read More
Kirk Billings is one of those guys who just seems to be good at everything and really good at the things he likes best. He’s formerly an elite rock climber (although I wouldn’t doubt his abilities off the couch), who still has his picture on the cover of the local guidebook. He is a, Read More
The old lady gets all the ink. See here, here, here and here. But I actually do have two dogs. My 5 year old male, while lacking the flair for the ridiculous and the dramatic of his counterpart, has been consistently retrieving birds like a laser guided missile since he was a pup. At, Read More
Raising my gun at the sound of wing beats, I hoped for a wild rooster to flush from the under brush. Nothing materialized. Moments later my precocious pup came out of the brush with a hen that was a little too slow getting off the ground. It was Christmas Eve 2008 and I was, Read More
Pop, pop, pop. “Dada, what’s that noise?” asked Everett, excited. “That would be hunters shooting at birds.“ I explained. “Why don’t you shoot at birds?” he whined. “We have to find them first son. But we’re trying” I answered, the picture of paternal patience. We were hunting pheasants near home with a few stolen, Read More
Filled with energy and as stubborn as her mother, she used to have a motor that never quit. She’s helped raise two kids and has pointed birds for over a dozen years. I didn’t know her in the early days, but as a grey faced elder she’s hard not to love. A few weeks ago, Read More