Flashback Friday!

     Within the next month or two, the 10,000th person will click on this blog. We actually have a little surprise planned for that - more details to come. We have tons of momentum, and this blog is read globally, thanks to you! Sometimes, though, it's good to step back and see what it was like back then. We started this blog over a year ago and this was the very first post ever by Grandpa. Enjoy!
-The Ranger

      We are a Wyoming family. We hunt. We fish. We pick berries and mushrooms. We know the names of the birds and the flowers. We have names for the places that are special to us – Three Elk Meadow, the name of this blog - is also one of those places. We’re out there in the mountains and the deserts, in fair weather and foul, having the time of our life all year long. We always have, and I hope we always will. 

     I am, I guess, what passes for a patriarch in our family. I’m Grandpa, an honor I take very seriously. Perhaps that’s because I never met either of my own grandfathers. They were dead long before I came on the scene. I never knew the man whose name I bear. Never heard his voice or even saw his face, except in the old sepia-toned pictures that have been were handed down to me. My dad didn't remember him much, and I don't think I ever heard him mention his father to me. Never much of a mentioner to begin with, my dad didn't have a lot of memories to work with when it came to his own father. My grandmother wasn't a lot better when it came to sharing memories of the husband she lost to the great influenza epidemic. Maybe it was just too hard to talk about him, even after all those years. He remains elusive, a ghostlike presence in our family almost a century after his passing.
     The photos of him at age 40 show a prosperous young stockman. Sandy haired, sporting a Stetson and a pocket watch and wearing a suit. But it’s the eyes that tell the story. Blue-eyed, like his young son and later the grandson he would never know, he

looks not so much at the camera as through it. There’s a Michael Martin Murphy song that says “You can see it in the eyes of every woman and man who spends their whole life livin’ close to the land. There’s a love of the country and a pride in the brand in America’s heartland, livin’ close to the land.” That’s what you see. You see the sagebrush sea, the utter vastness of millions of acres without a fence. You see the blazing heat of the summer and the bitter cold of the winter and the constant, endless wind. You see a man who loved being in the saddle, who lived and loved living in the wild. A guy I connect with very deeply, no matter that we never met.
     I don't want to be just a picture to my own grandchildren. That’s why we started this blog. We want to share with you the connection we feel with the land – each of us as individuals and all of us collectively as a family. We're a family that loves God, each other and the wild things and wild places of Wyoming. We hope you'll enjoy sharing them with us.



-Grandpa

Big Water

     I guess it doesn't take much water to impress a guy from Sweetwater County. A hatful would be a lot of water in most of southwestern Wyoming. But if you come from a hard, dry country you have to be impressed by the Pacific Ocean. I love it. There's some sort of connection here for me. Way down deep, something way back in the genetic memory says “You know me.” Like a voice you haven't heard but you still recognize, it's there in your head and in your heart but you don't know why.
     Maybe it's the smell. They say the sense of smell is best at evoking memories. I started smelling it when I was still almost a mile away. That salt tang that I hadn't smelled for years brought back memories from my first sight of it near the mouth of the Columbia. I remembered the time Grandma and I came here, to the foot of Sloat Street when we were newlyweds, back almost 43 years ago. I remembered Ketchikan and Seattle and Monterey.
     Maybe it's the sound. I'm deaf as a post, but the sound of the Pacific has always fascinated me. It sounds like some creature of unimaginable size slowly, rhythmically inhaling and exhaling. Like the planet itself is breathing. In a sense, it is. I remembered Vancouver and Astoria and San Diego.
     But the sight of it is what makes my heart leap. With my back to millions of Californians jammed cheek by jowl along the coast, I could face west and see miles and miles of open water.
Water still alive with salmon and steelhead, sea lions and sea urchins, plovers and pelicans. Water that smelled just like this when the Spanish were here. Water that sounded like this when the Ohlone were here. Water that looked like this when there were no people here at all.

As Norman Maclean said, “I am haunted by waters.”

Courtesy The Ranger

-Grandpa

Book Review: Pat McManus

     Right now it’s the time of year when the weather can’t make its mind up. The temperature stays around 45 degrees, the wind is blowing a million miles an hour, and it’s muddy as heck. It will stay like this until about April 1st, when it dumps two feet of snow and drops to -5. As a result, a rambunctious lad such as myself has to find something to do, to get out of this blasted wind. And woodcarving and Netflix only go so far. That means it’s time to find a good book, and write a school essay (which this will double as). The books of choice at the moment are by Pat McManus. Pat McManus has written a treasure trove of books about those who are as obsessed with the outdoors as I am.

     You know how some people have a gift for speaking and telling stories? Well, McManus doesn’t have that. According to my source (which may or may not start with the letters Wiki), he is an awful speaker. But he doesn’t have that problem with writing. He has many stories involving “thingingmagiges” and “doodads” that bring tears of laughter, and inspire illogical ideas that are so stupid and dangerous, they might just work… in my teenage mind, anyway. He writes the way my Grandpa talks, with stories of adventures in which you feel a part. The books make you feel like you’re experiencing the same adventures through McManus.
     He also has fun characters! There is the mischievous “Crazy Eddy Muldoon,” who young McManus climbs dragon mountains with, and helps McManus pick buttercups for his mother (buttercup picking is a truly hilarious art). You have the “Troll,” a name given to his older sister, who regularly enforces discipline with a fist of iron and a nonexistent soul. There is also “Rancid Crabtree,” the epitome of a grizzled and grumpy old man. A lot of outdoor writers these days make one ask “Why don’t I catch dozens of huge brown trout and shoot monster bull elk on every outing” after reading their work. McManus paints a much more realistic picture. In fact, he makes the occasions when he was entirely skunked, largely to his own failures, the funniest in the books. It make the rest of us mere mortals feel like we aren’t entirely failures in our daily outdoorsman lives too.
     So in this nasty windy weather, when the brown dust mixes with the occasional sleet, it’s time to put on your fuzzy socks, warm up a warm drink of your choice, and enter the crazy world of Pat McManus.

- The Apprentice

Run, Hide, Fight

   Here at 3EM, we emphasize the family. Whether its hunting, fishing, hiking or supporting one another at dance recitals, piano recitals, soccer games, wrestling matches or maybe just sharing a meal – we show up for our family.  Especially in my line of work, my faith and my family are always first and foremost in my mind. I write this post thinking of my family and all those that have lost theirs in active shooter situations. I am the active shooter instructor in my community. One part of my job is going to different departments and teaching a course on what to do in an active shooter situation. Sadly, everyone should know this information as these situations can happen anywhere, anytime and to anyone.
     As a police sergeant, you can imagine my dinnertime conversation may be different than other folks’. Recently, the topic turned to the “lockdown” drill the kids practiced in school that day. They were instructed to lock the door, shut off the lights and be quiet. Good. Then, they were told to gather together in a group. Bad. I disagree as this is different than what Federal Law Enforcement teaches. The Department of Homeland Security has great information on what to do in an active shooter scenario.
I took the opportunity to teach them to RUN, HIDE and FIGHT. I will be contacting the school to do the same. The order of these three words is important.

If the video didn't work correctly, click or tap here

1. The first and best option is to RUN. If you know you can get out of the building and to a safe location, then RUN and RUN as far as you can. 

2. If running is not an option because you are in between the only exit and the suspect, then HIDE. I don’t mean just going into a room and locking the door. Get in a room, lock the door, turn off the lights and barricade the door. Do everything in your power to keep someone from coming into that room. Once you have barricaded your room, spread out and prepare to fight if the suspect gets in. Create a plan so everyone knows what to do if the shooter makes entry. If the shooter gains access, they are forced to make a decision who to target first. This gives the group a chance to attack or escape.

3. Finally, if the suspect has entered the area you are hiding or started harming people in the same vicinity as you, FIGHT. Several people can work together by throwing things, making a tackle attempt or disarming if possible. There may be injuries, yes, but the majority will have a better chance of subduing the shooter and surviving the situation. Whether you take action or not, there are life threatening risks involved. Make the decision now to go home to your family. 
Police may be minutes and even seconds away. The absolute best chance of survival is putting these three actions into play. Always remember RUN, HIDE, and FIGHT. It may save you one day. For more information, please use the following resources. 

Run, Hide, Fight video courtesy of FBI. 

https://www.dhs.gov/active-shooter-preparedness

https://www.dhs.gov/sites/default/files/publications/active_shooter_pocket_card_508.pdf

-Long Rifle

Cooking with Rabbit

     The Apprentice, Grandpa and I went rabbit hunting a few weeks ago, as seen here. Fortunately or unfortunately, this left us with like forty whole rabbits ready for cooking. So, today me, The Apprentice, and Grandpa got together and cooked some bunny for the entire family. 3EM hasn't ever given any food advice before, so we figured it was high time! Just like antelope or elk, rabbit, if taken care of properly, can be done in a number of  delicious ways. Rangermom uses it all the time as a substitute for chicken. This is the recipe we used today, and the results were fabulous!

Serves 4.
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cook Time: 75 minutes

• 1 domestic rabbit or 2 cottontail rabbits, cut into serving pieces
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• Salt
• 3 bay leaves
• 1/2 pound Italian sausage (hot or sweet) cut into large pieces
• 4 garlic cloves, smashed
• 2 tablespoons dried oregano or marjoram
• 1/2 cup crushed tomatoes
• 1-2 teaspoons Sriracha hot sauce
• 2 tablespoons sweet paprika
• 1 cup roasted red peppers, cut into slices

1. Cut the rabbits into serving pieces. (We just used whole legs.)
2. Find a wide, shallow pot. A large, high-sided saute pan is a good choice, but one of those earthen braziers is even better. Arrange the rabbit pieces in the pot and just barely cover with water. Bring to a simmer and add a healthy pinch of salt and the bay leaves. Skim any scum that forms on the surface of the water.
3. Simmer the rabbit uncovered for 1 hour, turning the pieces from time to time as the water cooks away; this keeps both sides moist.
4. Add the remaining ingredients and mix well. Keep turning the rabbit and sausage pieces so they are coated in the sauce, and when it thickens enough — about another 10-15 minutes — you are ready to serve.

Source: http://honest-food.net/2011/03/30/calabrian-rabbit-with-red-peppers/

-The Ranger

On a Sheet of Ice

     We haven’t talked much about ice fishing here at 3EM, so that’s where I’m going today. Ice fishing is different than bank or boat fishing. Before walking out there, there needs to be some mental preparation. The sounds out on the ice are unique and there’s often a fear of falling through. However, the right spot presents itself, fears are overcome and the perfect combination is found – whether jig or dead stick. After that is taken care of, it’s smooth sailing. On ice.
Lesson 1 – Be brave. Be safe. But get out there.
     Ice fishing provides several opportunities that one doesn’t get fishing from a bank or a boat. Sitting in a hut, watching fish under your feet is pretty dang cool. I went fishing with my buddy, Daniel, and I watched a nice rainbow toying with my bait for quite some time. Daniel kept telling me to set the hook, but I was used to bank fishing and waited too long for the familiar tug before setting the hook. Lesson learned. The fish of the day went to Daniel because, apparently, if one fisherman doesn’t set the hook in a timely fashion, the fish gets bored and wanders over to his buddy’s bait.

Lesson 2 – Set the hook if you see a fish playing with the bait, even if you don’t feel a tug on the other end of the line. Or your friend will catch your fish.  
     Ice fishing without a hut is equally exciting, though, maybe not in -40 degree weather. The point of going without a hut is being out in the open air - enjoying a (hopefully) non-windy day. Living where I live, I prefer a hut because it cuts down on the wind. Late January to mid-February weather in Wyoming can be unforgiving frozen tundra. If it wasn’t for extra layers and a good pal on the days where I didn’t take a hut, I may have frozen to the lake. Good thing my compadre, Chad, (and no, I’m not talking about myself) was there to carve me out of the ice if I needed it.
Lesson 3 – Take a friend. First of all, it’s more fun. Plus, if conditions get nasty, it’s good to have back-up. 
     There is the potential to catch monster fish if you find the right spot. A couple weeks ago, my Dad and I caught wind of one of those spots. It took a little while to get there and by the time we did, the lake was loaded with huts and people. And the wind was blowing 35+ mph. I grabbed the sled and high-tailed it to a spot I was CERTAIN would produce large fish. We then proceeded to sit there for the next 5 hours and not have a single bite. Wind. People. Not. A. Single. Bite.

Lesson 4 – People lie about spots.
     There was common lesson in each of these experiences, though. In each situation, we laughed, traded stories and had great conversations. Each time, with each person, a stronger bond was formed as we grew to know each other a little bit better. Was I bummed when I didn’t catch MY fish? A little. Did I get freaking cold? Sure did. Was I discouraged at not catching ANY fish? You betcha. Would I trade ANY of those days? No way in heck. Oftentimes, I find myself wondering why so many people go out and brave the elements to ice fish in Wyoming. Maybe it’s the hope of catching the new state record. Maybe it’s getting outdoors to recharge those batteries. Maybe it’s the company that comes along. Whatever causes you to get out there, just do it. Make those memories. You won’t regret it.

-Long Rifle