Dear Brooks,

Dear Brooks,

I saw you at the Black Hills 100 finish line.  Hands raised, fists clinched, and cheering at the top of your lungs.  Knowing you and Dax are my #1 fans melts my heart.  Shiny belt buckles, high fives, and that finish line rush might seem like the best part, but it’s not about the finish.  I know what you are thinking, then why would Grandpa run 100 miles?

Lessons from Journal of a Trapper

Removed from the constraints of civilization there is a romantic lure of being a mountain man during the 1800’s. Pristine views, hunting in remote locations, and a life of adventure has the outdoorsman in me wishing I could travel back in time and see if I had the mettle to be a beaver trapper. The other part knows these men were tough, faced death on a regular basis, and lived an uncomfortable life.

Me and the Mountain

Me and the Mountain

Pausing before peering over the final ridge I concentrated on my breathing. If my plan had worked, I’d be in the middle of 100+ elk and I knew the hunt would go down quickly. The wind was blowing perfectly into my face, the snow provided a quiet path up the side of the mountain, and I had found enough of a drainage to conceal myself as I closed the final 800 yards.

Is Antelope Good?

As hunters we spend hours planning for a hunt, looking over maps, checking gear lists, and practicing with our guns and bows. Unfortunately, little thought is put into what the hunter is going to do after a kill. As a result, the game is loaded up into a back of a truck as the hunter heads into town to get breakfast. The hour after the kill is the most crucial time and will impact the deliciousness of the meat, so you better have a plan.

Patience

The first day of turkey season comes with excitement and anticipation like what a child experiences on Christmas Eve. Distance gobbles and strutting toms glistening in the sun fill a turkey hunter’s dreams as they wait for first light on opening day. Confidence is high as the memories of last year’s successful hunts are still fresh in the mind and the failures long forgotten.

$670 Dollar Trout

“This is the spot” I said as I put my truck in park and grabbed my fishing pole. Blake and Eric had a surprised look on their face as they gathered their gear and watched me make a v-line for the creek. A small stream of water that you can step over suddenly turns into a pool of water with the help of a beaver damn. Not exactly what you would expect for a honey hole in Colorado, but I had been here before and knew it would produce.

A Virtual Balance

Five missed calls and 33 new emails. I slid the phone back in my pocket and stared at the Y in the trail contemplating my dilemma: go to work or keep looking. An October snow storm prompted me to take a couple of hours off in the morning to go hunt my favorite stand. The wind was right and I knew the rut was kicking off. It was a Wednesday and I told myself I would sit until 10:00 am. I could return phone calls on my drive back home and should be at my desk by 11:15 a.m. It was already 10:30 a.m. and I hadn’t been able to find a single speck of blood.