Start 'Em Young

     We all have to start somewhere. Sometimes we teach ourselves a new skill and sometimes it’s something that we are introduced to when we are young. I didn't pick up fishing until I was in my mid 20’s. Because I did, now I can help my little ones learn at an earlier age. I love teaching my children life lessons and values early so they will be better equipped to face this world of disappearing country and fast appearing technology.

        As I sit here now, my sons are fighting over an iPad. We just had our first snow day in 15 years and after an afternoon of building snowmen, screen time becomes first priority. However, when Mother Nature decides to cooperate, we will have fewer squabbles in the house over material items and be more in tune with the outdoors. Preferably with a fishing rod in hand. When my kids are fishing, they are not fighting. Fishing is relaxing and fun. It is focused. They each have their own poles and tackle boxes and are forever trying new techniques to catch the elusive trout that swim the streams nearby. They are able to spread out on the river and tune out the world around. We listen and learn from Nature. She teaches us to seek shelter when we are exposed to the elements. She teaches us to build fires and how to read different terrains to help keep us alive. She teaches us to use our minds and our senses. The distractions are small and the payoffs large.

        I teach them God has given us beautiful places to help ourselves grow both physically and spiritually. Our kids need to be taught early in life how much our Heavenly Father loves them and appreciate what He has provided for them. Supposedly, the best time to learn is within the first three years of a child’s life. Everyone is going to teach their children things in which they excel. LeBron James’ son, at the tender age of 10, would wipe the basketball court with me and take my knees with him. Scott Eastwood is following in the great Clint Eastwood’s footsteps on the big screen. Any sort of public acting/speaking makes me want to cry. My daughter, in addition to being a dang good angler already, learned from her mama that reading is like breathing. Both my beautiful girls always have a book within arm’s reach. We teach our kids what we know. We teach our kids what we love. I'm blessed I can teach my lil ones to fish, hunt and appreciate the great outdoors. It won't put a million bucks in their pockets, but it will allow them to appreciate their purpose in life and the plan their Heavenly Father has for them.

-Long Rifle

Bear Spray - Don't Leave Home Without It

     “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes your stronger. Except bears. Bears just kill you.” 

       I don’t have a lot of great bear stories. If you want great bear stories, read Tom Reed’s book Great Wyoming Bear Stories. Tom’s a great friend to 3EM and his first book is the best compilation of legendary bear stories anywhere. The truth is we don’t spend a ton of time in great bear country. Our home country is no more than average black bear habitat and we only see an occasional grizzly. But because I travel a lot and I’m from Wyoming, people ask me a lot about bears – especially grizzlies. I tell them a few stories from my meager collection.

 My favorite comes from one of the toughest backcountry hands I know, my old friend Gary Amrine. I worked with Gary for years, and I don’t know anyone who is physically or mentally tougher than this guy. He tells the story of hunting elk one year in northwestern Wyoming. Gary almost always hunts afoot, and he covers a ton of country. So it was late one day when he came out of the snowy timber to a creek with a meadow on the far side. In the meadow was a nice bull with a large harem. They had no clue he was there, so Gary had plenty of time to set up and make a nice shot on the bull. The rifle roared, the bull dropped and the other elk scattered like quail. “Mission accomplished,” thinks Gary, and he walks over to the creek and scrambles down the cutbank to take off his boots, socks and pants to cross the stream. He wades the creek and puts his clothes back on, then scrambles up the other bank to the meadow. It’s getting to be sunset now, but when he gets to the spot where the elk is supposed to be…no elk. The bull that was supposed to be dead was hit hard, but had obviously gotten up and headed for parts unknown. With the sun going down and dark coming on, Gary starts walking concentric circles from where he thought the bull fell, looking for a blood trail in the snow. It’s no small task, and there are a jillion elk tracks complicating things. It’s almost dark by the time he finds the blood trail, and he follows it by the light of his Mini-Mag flashlight. Not far along the trail, he notices the light from his little flashlight beginning to fail, but he stays doggedly on the bull’s track. On he goes, with the light getting dimmer and dimmer. It’s darker than the inside of a moose now, but he keeps trailing the wounded bull with the light getting yellower and yellower. Finally, thirty feet in front of him, he sees the bull lying dead. And at that precise moment, two things happen: A huge, furry, dish-shaped face rises up from the other side of the bull and says, “WOOF”. And the light goes out.       

        This one story alone is why I carry bear spray when we’re in bear country. But there are a thousand like it, and as grizzlies expand their range into other places in Wyoming, Montana and Idaho, there will be more close encounters. I am a believer in bear spray. I have heard some people say they feel more comfortable with a firearm. I generally ask them if they can shoot well while peeing their pants. I don’t want to find out – and I darn sure don’t want to find out over a dead elk carcass in the dark.

Bear spray – don’t leave home without it.

-Grandpa

You Build a Fire

       It's getting dark. You know you should have met up with the rest of the crew hours ago. You don't recognize any of the landmarks around you. You come to the conclusion you're dreadfully lost in the woods. What do you do? Do you set out to try and find them because you know daylight and supplies are running low? Do you immediately try to find food and water? No, you employ the use of the T.S.T.O.P. method as explained by The Apprentice earlier. And you build a fire.

      A fire will be your best friend. It can provide warmth, bug-protection, wild animal protection, and above all, comfort. Even if it's not cold out, a fire will do wonders. You know you will be safe while you can sit and think about your current situation and the next plan of action. The important thing is to know how to build a good fire, and maintain it.
      Start by evaluating your surroundings. Pick a sheltered spot, away from the wind. You don't want any branches, dead or alive, hanging over the fire site. It would be good to maybe have a bucket of water nearby, in case things go south, but is not absolutely necessary, especially in a survival situation. At least know where a nearby lake or river is just in case. Take stock of any big safety hazards and remove them. You are ready to build.
      First comes the tinder. Anything very dry and small. Ideally, a paper product or the like, but that's rather hard to find in the wilderness. In all our experience, the best natural thing is dead pine needles. Those are in abundant supply and are the perfect size and material. Some other things that work include dead grass, thin bark-shavings, dead leaves, and extremely small pieces of wood. Arrange these in a little pile at the bottom.

     Next comes your kindling. Strips of wood about a foot long or so will do nicely. Now comes how you want to arrange them. There is a lot of ways to do it, but two of the most notable are the tepee or the log cabin. Both work great but are especially good in different areas., however the tepee has been proven to burn a little better, as the flames can naturally travel upward. The log cabin has better structural support and may be better in wind. Either way, start with smaller pieces and work our way bigger. Maybe put a small, small log on to end with and you're ready to light!
        It's important to know what type of match you have. A strike-anywhere match does what it says - you can light it by striking it on rocks or wood or sandpaper or something. A strike on box match can only be lit by striking it on the rough side of its box. Before lighting the match, plan where you want to stick it. Find a few spots that are sheltered from the wind, and deep enough down that they will be able to catch the bigger things. Not too far down, as you don't want to suffocate the flames. Strike and almost immediately go straight to where you want to go. As you light, don't hold the match downward as the flames will eat it up quicker.
       Once it gets going, it's going! Don't blow on it, only try to shield it from the wind. Let it catch, eat up all the tinder, and hopefully climb onto the kindling. When it looks mature enough, you can add a big log.

      It is important to know how to maintain a good fire. Every once in a while, (it depends on the size of the fire), add another log. Fires are hungry animals that constantly need food. When they burn down and need a little boost to get going, blow on coals until the wood ignites. When you are ready to put the fire out, water. Don't try anything else, it could make things worse. Water always puts fires out.
       Hopefully, you build a fire, stay the night, and meet up with your group again in the morning. Such was the case in The Sleepover post, again by The Apprentice. May you use this guide in whatever adventures lie before you... or, in the words of Apprentice, Don't get lost. That would work, too.

-The Ranger

What They Really Want

     Last month I spent a couple of days in the hill country of Texas between San Antonio and Austin. I had a blast. I met some wonderful people. I ate my weight in BBQ. I saw whitetails and black vultures and quail and the south end of a northbound armadillo. I’d like to have seen the north end, too. It wasn’t like he was moving very fast. But I couldn’t get off the road right of way. It’s all private land there.

       Anyone who knows much about the history of Texas knows that there’s almost no public land there. It goes way back before statehood, even before the Republic of Texas to the days of the old Spanish land grants. It’s not going to change. It’s not bad. It’s not good. That’s just the way it is in Texas.
       But that’s not the way it is in Wyoming. Just about half our state is public land. Your land, my land, our kids’ land. And that, my friends, is both the blessing and the curse. It’s a blessing because we can hunt and fish and ride our horses and our ATVs and our snowmobiles and we can lose ourselves in the great wide open without ever having to ask anyone for their permission. It’s a curse because there are people who want those public lands.

They want Wyoming to be like Texas. They will tell you otherwise. They’ll tell you it’s all about their distrust of the federal government and their regulatory over-reach and their distance from the customs and culture of Wyoming. They say that replacing these federal agencies with state agencies will make things better. Some of them – politicians mostly – actually believe that. But they aren’t the ones calling the shots on this one. They’re being manipulated by people outside Wyoming.     

     The people driving this don’t live here. They’re big spenders who stand to make even bigger bucks by taking over the management of lands we hunt and fish on. Check out the American Lands Council. Check out American Legislative Exchange Council. Snoop around a bit on the internet. Follow the money. And then ask yourself, “Why would they want the state to take over the BLM and Forest Service land in Wyoming?” There’s only one answer. Because they want it.
      They want it, but they don’t necessarily want to pay for it. So how can they do that? Put it in the hands of someone they can bully. Put it in the hands of someone they can manipulate. Put it in the hands of the state. State lands in Wyoming are managed by the Office of State Lands and Investments. But the purse strings are controlled by the legislature. Is that who you want deciding land management policy on your public lands? They won’t be able to do it. And when they can’t, the same folks who were all about state control will be the ones who will push to privatize those lands. It will be privatized. And once it’s private, it’s private forever. And Wyoming will be just like Texas.

S.T.O.P.

       Imagine this: you know you are going to get lost while in the Bighorn Mountains, and you can pack one tool to help you survive. What would serve you best? A knife? A lighter? A rope? None of these are what I would take. I would take my mind and within it, the principle of S.T.O.P.

S.T.O.P. stands for stop, think, observe, plan. Sounds easy, right? Well, this is one of those deals where it is easier said than done. When you’re lost, the first instinct can be to panic. So I have taken the liberty to add “T”, or “talk to yourself.” A voice, even if it is your own, has a calming influence. (Hmm, maybe Gollum had something going for him besides the ring...)

“S” stands for stop. Sit down on a rock or under a tree. Just stop. Unless you know exactly where you are going, or need medical attention, just stop.

The second “T” stands for think. The meaning of think is also pretty obvious. It means think about your situation, the last time you saw your group, or whether someone knows where you are (they should!). Basically, you are thinking about your situation. 

The “O” is for observe. Observe means to look at your surroundings, and what you have on hand or around you that could improve your situation. That’s the time when you need a knife. You’re just checking your inventory, because just about anything will help if think creatively.

“P” is for plan. You are creating a game plan for how to survive. You are determining whether if you need to build a lean-to because weather is coming in or it’s getting dark. Or maybe your plan is to backtrack, because you have plenty of daylight and water. Regardless, don’t move without a plan.

The principle of T.S.T.O.P. is simple, and yet it saves lives. So when lost, use T.S.T.O.P.
Or just don’t get lost. That would work, too.

-The Apprentice

Gear Review: Winchester Model 12

Anachronism - noun
1. A thing belonging or appropriate to a period other than that in which it exists, especially a thing that is conspicuously old-fashioned.  
  

I suppose it is, at least in the sense that it belongs to a period in which it exists. Winchester Repeating Arms Co. says it was manufactured in early 1925. If it belonged to that period, it was a new shotgun when John T. Scopes was arrested for teaching the theory of evolution in Tennessee, when Al Capone took over the bootlegging racket in Chicago, when “Silent Cal” Coolidge was the President of the United States. Closer to home, Nellie Tayloe Ross took office as governor of Wyoming, the first woman governor in U.S. history. Ninety years ago, the world was a different place.
         They called it the “Perfect Repeater” when it first came out as the Model 1912 in that year. It went on to become the gold standard for pump action shotguns until it was discontinued in 1964. Winchester made over 2 million of them over that half-century span – everything from skeet guns to trench guns.
         Family legend has it that it was purchased for my father by his beloved Aunt Ida, the sheep queen of Sweetwater County. If she bought it new, he would have been 12 at the time. She may have – she was always willing to spend money on my father, and he was more than willing to let her buy him a shotgun. I’d like to think she’d be happy to know that it’s still with us and still killing its share of birds every year, even with the operator error common to this particular operator.       

The old man used it every year up until his death in 1967, and I’ve used it every year since. It’s chambered in 16 gauge, that lovely middle ground between the power of the 12 and the light feel of the 20. That chambering went out of style for a long time, but it never went away from the shoulders of those who loved it. My dad was one of them. He used it on everything from geese to grouse, and he used it hard. Sometime – perhaps in the 1950’s – he succumbed to a fit of temporary insanity and installed a Poly-Choke on it. It was one of his most inexplicable acts, not unlike drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa.
          I had the thing surgically removed a number of years back, and rather than having it re-choked, I left it as a cylinder bore. It’s once elegant 30” barrel is abbreviated now, but it swings like a dream and it shoots steel 4 shot or 2 shot perfectly for pheasants. I love shooting it because it feels literally like an extension of my body. It just feels right. And it simply never malfunctions. For 90 years now, through thousands of rounds and in thousands of places, it’s been smooth, accurate and dependable.
        Practically all my friends shoot newer shotguns. Many of them shoot fancier shotguns. But nobody shoots a shotgun that means as much to them as this one means to me. Thanks, Dad.



-Grandpa