"GIT ER DONE"

The terd photo was tough to look at, and was offending my wife, so I went for something more inspirational...

Everybody always gives me crap about being a planner, but it is getting to be that time of year again. Come December 1, it is Lottery Season and for the love of God, Buddha, the Goddess, or whoever else you pray to, someone please get a stinking Selway permit, or a lower water Middle Fork permit so we can embrace the fishing and maybe even remove our hands from the oars to take a sip of beer every once in a while.

Anyway, here is the link to the permit application information http://www.fs.fed.us/r4/sc/recreation/4rivers/index.shtml fill one out and send it in. Remember, you can’t win if you don’t play.

By the way, nice buck Zach! I am not sure how many of you are aware, but I got a Middle Fork Permit for over Memorial Day. Last years trip was great, but I sure as hell do not want to be the TL for a 20+ person trip. So come April, I will post a blog and then the first 10 nonrefundable deposits that I receive will be the folks that are going. Five nights and most likely five boats. Coincidence, I think not.

Zach's Redemption

Zach hunted 51 days and 20 minutes
for this bruiser.













He took two weeks off during elk rut, and had a spike camp at 7500 ft.













We had a blast on the front this week. Five hunters, seven whiteys, four gallons of booze- well...you get the idea.

5-point whitetail

this buck came clear across from the cottonwood trees in the background
to within 225 yds.
artie

Mikey's Bday

This is Mikey's little bday buck. It was a great morning up the Blackfoot.

















Look........there's one! Best damn hunting blind I ever sat in! Thanks Steve!!!

Hntn

We rolled out of the inversion at about 5:15, not that the fog cleared but at least it didn't stink. Our new radio station was playing some Marley, things boded well. The Bonner truck stop was busy as a hive. Fluorescent lights gave an '80's sci-fi glow to the camo-and-blaze-orange clad fellas. Some poop juice in our mugs, we headed up 200 to location X in a little red Toyota that managed to stay upright.

Paddling a canoe across a black river on a foggy morning is fun. Kinda like ice skating with your eyes shut. Zach and I climbed the frozen bank, scrambling a bit on the frozen mud, and headed west on the frozen logging road.

The high pressure cycle plaguing us has turned the snow to not-so-sneaky crust. We were about as quiet as a fuckin' herd of elephants as we made the mile or so to the bottom of the draw we wanted to hunt. Since we both had A tags in our pockets, we decided to split up so there wouldn't be any bickering over who would shoot, not that we ever have before.

Blah blah blah, long day, no damn deer. At about 3, I decided I had better get my ass to a good spot to sit for the evening. Running down a snowy ridge with a gun is something your mother would probably advise against. About 1800 vert and two miles later I plopped down in my spot sweating my ass off. Oh well. I could see about 40 acres of sparsely timbered hillside above the river and I could hear even the squirrels walking on the crunchy snow.

The first buck was a biggun'. I heard him and turned to put him in my scope. He was weaving in and out of the thicker timber uphill from me, unaware of my sweaty self. The second time I saw him I put up, but he was still moving. I looked over my scope, saw him again and looked back into a foggy scope I had just managed to breath into. Damnit, he was gone.

Three, literally three, minutes later I heard another one, downhill from me this time.

Now as an aside, because I can already hear the shit I'm gonna get for this, I've had a cursed hunting season. Wrecked truck, bad schedule, battling elk, the works, so I had determined in the interest of feeding myself to shoot whatever the hell I could. So piss off Mikey.


Anyway, the whitetail spika was feeding at a slow pace. I rolled onto my side but couldn't get the butt onto my shoulder. Fuck it, I shot anyway. Yup, missed. Nice eh? Well young deer being just that, he didn't go anywhere, but looked around in confusion. This time I was standing and shot off hand. Zipped him dead nuts. He took off running and waiving his truce flag for the last time. When he hit the ponderosa head on, it sounded like two bolling balls clocking together. I raised an eyebrow at how hard he hit the damn thing. When I got down there, I saw he had snapped one of his cute little horns off on the trunk and it was sticking straight out of the tree. Doingoingoing, cartoon style.

Easy drag, easier paddle, short wait for an unsuccessful and downtrodden Zach and we were headed back through the pea soup to Zoo town. Sorry no pics, but here's one of our Gorge weekend. Thought it might help warm some folks up this turkey day.

Suburban Elk Conflict

Suburban Elk Conflict (read the whole story)

Tyler Maxwell shot his six-point bull elk Monday morning on Bureau of Land Management property on Saddle Mountain near Montana City.
But the sound of Maxwell's early morning shot also resonated through the home of Tim Plaska, whose 18-month-old grandson was eating breakfast about 50 yards away from where Maxwell took his shot. Plaska, who believed it was illegal to fire a high-powered rifle within a quarter mile of a house, called game wardens. What Plaska found out surprised him. There is no restriction, and it was a legal kill, Plaska said. In fact, Maxwell followed all the basic safety procedures in taking down the elk on public property, according to game warden Mike Ottman with the Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks. Obviously, when a gun goes off in close proximity to houses, people will be startled, Ottman said. But I followed their footprints (in the new-fallen snow) and where he shot and the direction he shot wasn't an issue. I went up there to make sure everything was done properly, and it was. It's completely legal on BLM land, and that's it in a nutshell.

Still, as more homeowners move into outlying subdivisions touted as “bordering public land,” the residents are surprised sometimes when elk and deer hunters show up close to their homes during the five-week big game hunting season in the fall. . .

“… The larger issue here is when you get into situations of the historic range and development encroaches, what do you do?”

Don't get me wrong, I am NOT a hunting advocate, but if you want to live in the country you had better get ready for some wildlife, you had better get ready for guns. People, living in these subdivisions is DIFFERENT than living in the city. The roads are dusty, your neighbor's cows smell like shit, their ATVs are dusty, and when you live next to public land, there may be hunting. Working in Enforcement, I wished that I could have sent the Code of the West out to people like Mr. Plaska.

I do feel for the guy though, you have to live with the hope that hunters are responsible and safe. Then you read about things like this. This dude's horses and mule were shot and quartered - with what they think was a chainsaw. They suspect idiot hunters. Not ALL hunters are idiots, but there are a lot of idiots out there and some of them have high powered rifles, just ask E.C. about his good buddy George. What, an IQ test prior to buying bullets? Afterall, guns don't kill people, bullets do.

Deer steaks in the duck blind.

It is good to be a state employee

Mikey, be prepared to get super bitter, because my new state job is so awesome. And I got a raise.

Hiking in the Cabinet Wilderness looking for pyrite and silver deposits on quartz.














My "summer home" on the Frohner mine near Park Lake outside of Helena.














Contimplating my attendance at USC (it is a bar). I wonder if they require the GRE?














Like I said, it is good to be me.