Malta 2024

 

As you can see from the picture, the Malta trip this year was a success. As with every trip to Malta, unforeseen circumstances and opportunities made for another epic experience. Hard work led to this nice goat. Hard drinking led to making new friends and coming home with a plethora of new art for the Fort. 

I had so much fun last year hunting deer and birds in Northeastern Montana, I decided to put in for antelope tags out there. With a 21% draw rate, I wasn't too hopeful but hey, the gods were shining down and bingo, I was drawn and was excited to make the drive. The goal was to overlap a little speed goat hunting with the opening weekend of deer and hopefully double up on big game and then shoot some birds. Ambitious, for sure, but doable. 

I arrived in the area my tag was good for late afternoon on the Wednesday before the opener of the deer and elk rifle season on the weekend. The gun season for antelope starts a couple weeks sooner because antelope lose their horns earlier than other antlered species of deer. Without horns, you can't tell a buck from a doe at the distances a hunter is often shooting at. Besides, most people hunting antelope bucks, want the horns. (As a side note, antelope have horns. Deer have antlers. Even though antelope lose their horns and regrow them every year, they are made from keratin that grows like a sheath around a core, much like a bison. Therefore, even though they shed every year, they are horns.)

As soon as I reached my hunting district, my radar went up and I started scanning the vastness of the area for white asses across the prairie. Even before getting to Malta and checking into a hotel, I was technically hunting. Just to give you an idea of the terrain, here's a photo to illustrate the expansiveness of this country. 

The unfortunate thing for antelope, is with their white asses, bellies, and chest, along with their black faces and horns, the contrast makes them easy to spot from a mile away. They stick out like a sore thumb in the burnt grasses, wheat, and sage. They are also incredibly curious, which makes them suspectable to decoys. However, they have amazing eyesight, and they figure shit out pretty damn quick. They know where they are safe after the first gunshots go off and they don't call them speed goats for nothing. A couple weeks into the season, even slowing the truck down will send them scampering across the prairie like a flock of sparrows, zigzagging in unison at speeds that would challenge a Ferrari. As you can imagine, getting close enough to get a shot is pretty tough.

So, here's the strategy; one drives around the miles and miles of prairie and sage flats with the hopes of finding a group of goats far enough from the road that they don't spook but not so far that you waste all day trying to sneak up on them only to have them bust out and your day is shot. Then you pull out your phone with your onX Hunt app and see if your targets are on accessible land, meaning land that is either public or block management. If they are on block management, you also need to make sure you've signed into that particular block management property before you hunt it. In places like Eastern Montana, there could be five or six ranches with adjacent boundaries. It does get confusing, so your best bet is to just go around to all the sign-in boxes before you even start your hunt.

I spent that first afternoon/evening driving around, looking for opportunities for the next day. I was seeing a lot of animals that were close to open areas and some in the public lands. Some were on block management but in weapons restriction zones so you can't shoot rifles there either. Like I said, they figure it out quickly. I did get acquainted with the area and took mental notes of where the sign-in boxes were so I could sign in early the next morning before the sun came up. You don't necessarily need to get out there right away as goats tend to graze most of the day. They do often bed down mid-day, but you can still pick them out and put sneaks on them, but you might as well maximize your time, so my plan was to head out and get signed in before shooting hours started. 

My brain won't let me sleep past 4:30am these days so even though I set my alarm, it wasn't needed. I made my packet of coffee provided by the hotel and got dressed. With all the animals I saw the evening before, I was cautiously optimistic. A group of goats were hanging out on a slice of private with state and block management surrounding it. I was thinking I would head down there and see if anything ventured onto accessible land. Turns out, a few does had, and the hunt was on.

I parked my truck along the gravel road in a position behind a hill to where the antelope couldn't see me. Using the relief of the hill to hide behind, I was able to cut the distance without being detected. I then belly crawled to about 300 yards of them. I was in the prone position on the top of the hill and put the scope on one of them. I contemplated pulling the trigger. The debate I was having with myself was even though my tag was good for either sex, would I shoot a doe this early in the game? Inaction is action and before too long, they spotted me, and the decision was imposed. The does took off across the prairie and eventually tuned into dots that were barely discernable, even with my binoculars. 

As I watched them, something caught my eye running along the fence line to the west coming from the south. I could see it from about a mile out. The fence was on a line that passed me only a couple hundred yards away, then terminate at the road where my truck was parked. The animal was big and was on a dead run and within just a few minutes, I was able to identify it with the aid of the binocs. 

The thing about this country is its vast and you normally only see antelope, deer and upland birds. There's not a lot of cover for big animals and even though they historically inhabited the prairie, the bigger animals like moose, bears, and elk have been pushed up into the mountains or, into the Missouri Breaks. The Missouri Breaks is a unique part of the country that has been carved out by the Missouri River after thousands of years of inland seas, and ice dams from glaciers and then the erosion of receding water after the ice dams broke free. Canyons run from the prairie into the bottom of the riverbed for miles. The relief from the flat prairie to these canyons is stunning. The number of nooks and crannies for animals to hunker down in is seemingly infinite. But the breaks are a good 50 miles from where I was, and the closest mountain range is ever further. 

Running along the fence, getting closer and closer, was a massive six-point elk. He had been running for miles. As he got closer, I could see the froth coming from his mouth, the foam building and running down his mane to his chest. His coat was dark with sweat, like a horse that had been pushed to the brink. He was obviously running from something but there was nothing on his heals and as he ran past me less than a couple hundred yards away, nothing followed. The elk reached the road and finally took a brief moment to decide how to proceed, then jumped the fence, ran across the road and jumped the next fence and turned to the east to pass just 10 feet from my truck. He then turned back to the north and headed out over the prairie. He kept running until he was sky-lined against a perfectly blue sky and stood there for a moment looking back at me like the Harford Stag. He was amazing. Then he turned back to the north and disappeared over the rise. 

Walking back to the truck, my brain went to where it does, asking a dozen questions like where was this elk coming from, where he was going and what was chasing him? Archery season ended the weekend before. Gun season opened in a couple days. No hunter should have been shooting at him. I guess I'll never know. Could have been wolves? It was bizarre and just really cool to see but also a bit troubling to see animal like that being so stressed for no good reason. 

I did also see a number of antelope off in the distance from where the elk came from and, according to my onX app, could be in a spot I could reach. I ejected the shell I had in the chamber, forced it back into the magazine and closed the bolt. I laid the gun in the front seat of the truck, spun the truck around and headed around to the group of goats I had spotted. 

This time I grabbed the Montana Made decoy I had with me. The idea is to use the decoy partly for attracting the antelope and partly to hide behind. The group of antelope, about eight of them, had a good buck leading them. They tend to be the most curious this time of the year as it's just getting to the end of their rut. They let me walk up to about 400 yards before busting out, but they didn't go far--just over a rise out of site, so I kept pursuing. When these antelope came back into site, they were about 300 yards out. 

By this time of the day, the wind was howling. I felt like I was close enough for a shot but knew the wind was going to make it tough. I set up on my shooting sticks and did my best to steady a shot. It wasn't good enough. Not on the first, second or third...

As these antelope disappeared, I walked about a mile back to the truck, which gave me a lot of time to think about how I was going to have to change up strategies. These goats in Eastern Montana seemed a lot harder to get close to and the wind wasn't getting any better. 

I put the sneak on another group and wasn't able to get within a quarter mile. Another group took off before the truck even stopped. At one point, I had two does, that I was going to definitely shoot this time, cross the road 100 yards in front of me. They were heading into public land, so I slammed on the breaks, grabbed my .270, and chambered a round. I got down into the ditch and leaned on the fence to be able to shoot as they crossed the fence onto the public land. They stopped two feet from the fence, turned tail, and crossed back across the road onto private. 

My last chance of the day, I was driving along a piece of block management on the left and coming up on a piece of state land on the right. A group of antelope with a good buck were in the state land, just about to cross the fence onto private. I slammed on the breaks, crawled out of the truck, grabbed the gun and snuck up the ditch. I was about 100 yards from corner post that sectioned off the state from private. I belly crawled the last 20 yards or so and although these antelope were looking nervous, they hadn't fled. I was about 250 yards from them and right on the corner post. 

I used the post to try to steady the gun, but the wind was just too much. I thought I took a good shot but apparently not and as these goats took off across the prairie, I did a mental inventory of bullets and was seriously thinking I might run out before the odds and conditions finally tipped in my favor. 

I woke up the next morning at the exact same time as the day before. I made my coffee and headed back to the same place I had missed the last antelope later in the previous day. The goats were there, and I failed again. Instead of waiting for them to cross the road from the state land to the block management, I tried to catch them before they crossed and it just confused them and me, and goats scattered all over the prairie. I was able to get a shot off, but it wasn't a great shot, and I kicked myself for even taking it. 

I continued further into the block management to the end of the road and parked at the gate. I was going to get to a vantage point to glass further out onto the property but before I started hiking, I notice a group of antelope off in the distance across a bean field. They were on block management and heading towards the fence line I was parked on, albeit two miles out. Looking at onX, there was a small portion of private between us, but they were definitely on block management and everything behind them was either state or BLM. I was going after these goats. 

The terrain here, was favorable and the wind had not picked up yet. What little wind there was, was in my face. I knew I could get within a few hundred yards at least and if the Gods were on my side, maybe I could wait them out and they would cross in front of me. It was a long shot, but they were heading in the right direction coming off the bean field. 

I hoofed it along the fence and got to a position they were heading towards. Unfortunately, they decided not to cross the bean field in front of me but to walk off the field going away. I waited for them to drop off behind a rise and I made a move, cutting the corner of the bean field, hot in pursuit. They couldn't see me, so I was able to half sprint across the field until I got to the cross fence and use the trapped tumbleweed along the fence as cover. 

As I worked up the fence line, I came to a saddle in the topography and spotted a group of about 60 antelope at the bottom of the draw, sum 7 or 800 yards from me. For me to move past the opening without them busting me was about a 1 in 100 chance. The goats I was going after were still in front of me, out of site. I had to take the chance, so I pushed. As I crossed the opening, I kept my head down and kept from looking in their direction as if as long as we didn't make eye contact, everything would be good even though my moving human frame couldn't possibly bring any alarm to them. But the eye contact, that would surely set them off...

When I got to the fence where these goats should have crossed, there was no visual sign of them but there was a spot where the fence was about 2 feet off the ground where they could easily cross under and there were tracks. Pronghorn antelope don't jump like the antelope on the Seirra. They crawl under fences and around obstacles. They go under fences so quickly; you'd swear they jumped but they don't. I pushed a little further along the fence and then looked back up the hill and there they were, just cresting the hill and going out of site again. 

I crossed the fence and was right on their heels. In fact, I just saw the tips of one of their ears as it fell off the side of the hill and out of site. They couldn't be more than a couple hundred yards, so I followed. 

As I came to the top of the hill and could look down the slope, the 60 antelope and the bottom of the draw were still there but then I noticed another couple dozen off to the right of them. That's not good. The one's I was chasing were going towards these antelope but still out of site behind rise and probably going to merge with them. I ducked down behind the hill to come around from the right side, hopefully catching them as they side-hilled towards the larger group. As I crested the hill and peered out, the bigger groups were still a few hundred yards away but the group I was chasing was only about 100 yards out and standing still just coming into site. I could only see two of them, one being the buck I wanted.

I didn't have time to range or to even get on the sticks. I brought the walnut stock of the .270 to my shoulder, settled the crosshairs just in front of the buck's haunches as it was quartering away, and squeezed. 

"Boom!" said the .270 and a 1/2 second later, "Thwap!" Which is what you should hear when you pull the trigger on a big game animal. The antelope reared back and fell to the ground. 

The bullet entered just above the hind quarter and just under the backstrap, into the vitals of the antelope, which would seem to be a bad choice of shot but actually, none of the backstraps were ruined and the bullet just barely clipped the top of the hind quarter. And with the angle, the bullet penetrated above the guts and entered the chest cavity, destroying the lungs and heart. I mention this because it's not the best angle and a couple inches either way could have destroyed a lot of meat and made for a disgustingly messy gut-job. I was a bit lucky, but it was a pretty darn good shot. What probably factored into the choice of shot was just how fleeting these opportunities are with antelope and I figured it was the best chance I was going to get. I did range the animal after the shot, at 110 yards. At that distance, there's no need for any compensation for drift or dropping of the bullet but shooting free arm standing without a rest is a little sketch. 

Once I shot and the antelope went down, I expected all the other antelope to disappear. Like I've said, those things are spooky, and it doesn't take much to send them running across the prairie like a flock of teal flying away from my decoys after dumping my shotgun on them. Instead, they all just stood there looking back at the buck that was now motionless on the ground as if nothing happened. I swear one of them even looked at the buck and shrugged its shoulders and then went back to eating. The large group at the bottom of the draw barely moved too. They all just kind of went back to doing their thing almost like they knew my tag was now punched so the rest of them were safe. Even when I went down to dress the goat out, the rest of the herd just moved on down the draw with the other group and hung out. Every once in a while, I would hear one of them snort at me, but they never really showed much concern at all. 

The antelope was about 2 miles from the truck when I shot it. They aren't all that big, maybe 120 pounds on the hoof so maybe 80 pounds dressed out. This one was a good one with horns 14 1/2 inches long and really nice cutters. The hair on the back of the neck was blown off at some point in this goat's life, which made it useless for a mount. It actually had a scar from either a bullet or another goat fight with it. I started dragging it back to the truck but after a few hundred yards, decided to cut the thing in half, taking the hind quarters off and dragging it out in two trips. Back in the day, I would have just dragged the whole thing in one trip, but I have learned over the years, smarter not harder. 

When I got back to the hotel, I skinned the antelope out and quartered it up so it would fit in my cooler. I did all of that in the parking lot and washed off the quarters in the bathtub in my room. I'm sure the hotel manager loved that. And as far as patrons of the hotel? It is Montana so I'm sure they're used to seeing stuff like that--a beer on the bed rail, and me slicing up an antelope on the tailgate. Perfect. A few even came over to take a look and congratulate me. 

I didn't put much effort into finding deer on this trip. I did run into a gentleman at the bar who owned a ranch about an hour away. He invited me up to his place and even showed me a couple good whitetails he had on his trail cam. I checked his place out the next day and didn't see much. That same night at the bar, I met a guy who was working for Ducks Unlimited. Apparently, they were having a banquet at the golf course in Malta on Saturday night so instead of staying out 'til dark to hunt, I came back early, took a shower and dropped $450 at the banquet. It's a good cause. 

I feel like I did pretty well, though. I mean, $450 got me my meal, two pretty cool prints, a two-handed crosscut saw that was die cut with a Ducks Unlimited scene and logo, and another circular sign to hang in my garage. 

After the banquet, the guys running the show invited me to the bar for some pool. I didn't get ripped like last year in Malta, but it was enough to where I didn't want to get up and hunt early on Sunday morning. Between the beer and the lactic acid that still hadn't dissipated from my muscles from all the hiking and dragging, I figured my body could use a break. I did take a few laps looking for birds with Cutter to no avail but wound up shooting a duck off a pond on the way back home. Cutter at least got retrieve that and I ate it tonight. So, all in all, a pretty darn successful trip to Malta. 

I really do like Eastern Montana. I'm not sure I could live there but it is a very cool part of the country. It has its own beauty, and the people have been wonderful. I'm not sure if I'll do it again next year, since I've been there twice now but who knows? I'm sure there are plenty of other places I should check out for hunting Montana in the years I have left. There's still a lot of hunting left for this year, however, so it's time to get back after it. I've got two deer tags, and two elk tags left. I don't really care to fill all those tags, but it gives me options. Two of the tags are strictly meat tags as one is an antlerless deer tag, and one is an antlerless elk tag. If I don't fill the general tags, which would be saved for something special, I'd be alright with that.

Keep 'em where they live...

My Vote

I voted in the 2024 General Election today. I will get to writing about another epic trip to Malta in the next few days, but I feel it's my duty to share a brief rationale for voting the way I am. I realize that most folks have already made up their minds and are not going to be swayed but I have to put this out there with the hope that it does some good. 

Let me preface this by explaining that I'm going to throw some facts out there with little evidence to support them because it would make this post about 10,000 words, and nobody would read it. I'm asking you to trust that I'm not just throwing propaganda out there. I just want to be succinct in presenting some facts, and you can do what you feel necessary. 

I'm also not here to manipulate or sway anyone for my own personal gains. I care. I care about people less fortunate than me and instead of believing this life is a race to the finish where the person with the biggest house, most property, or coolest toys wins, I believe we all deserve to be happy. That's it. 

The first thing I want to address is the gender/race gap in the polls. It's a biggie. Women of all races overwhelmingly are supporting the Dems in this election. That probably has everything to do with reproductive rights and that's understandable. All I'm going to say about this is we all define our morality personally and I'm not here to say what is right or wrong for you and I would want the same respect for my rights from you. I will say, however, I'm also not the person to make the most difficult decision one would ever have to make for someone else considering a number of variables including rape, incest, economics, family plans, or health factors. I will also say, and this is where I get incredibly frustrated with our politics, that women are not making the choice to abort a pregnancy in the final trimester with the attitude that some folks would like you to believe, and babies are not being killed after birth. That is propaganda. The choice of terminating a late term pregnancy is tragic and comes down to unforeseeable scenarios that are heartbreaking. Instead of villainizing woman and their families and doctors for having to make these decisions, we should be showing compassion. 

Men, specifically white men, are overwhelmingly supporting Trump by about a 40 percent margin. They also overwhelmingly support Republicans on down ticket ballots. Why? One reason is the economics myth. Republicans are viewed as being better for the economy but if you look at the last 50 years, that myth just doesn't hold water. Recent recessions have always come at the end of Republican administrations. (Please do the research yourself. It's true.) That probably has to do with the deficits that are created by cutting revenues that would be gained through taxes that are cut for the riches people during those administrations. Right now, unemployment is at a level that is considered full employment for the most part. Wages are up. The stock market is breaking records nearly every day. Inflation? Housing costs? Both contribute to this myth, but the blame almost always gets displaced to politicians instead of recognizing it has more to do with a system that we revere as economic gospel that can be incredibly volatile. Covid created supply chain issues. We also dumped a ton of money into the system to prevent an economic catastrophe that started with Trump. People left the workforce because it made more sense to stay at home and take care of their children versus paying someone else to do it. Fewer people working means higher wages which means consumers have to pay more. Mass exodus from urban areas to rural areas changed the housing market and it took time for the Federal Reserve to adjust. With all of these things creating a perfect storm, our economy actually came out better than most countries post-Covid. Our best-case scenario was a soft landing, which we achieved but now we're in need of a market correction. It's happening and the best thing the government can do is to make things that are necessary to our most basic needs more affordable which is healthcare, housing, food, and childcare. One party has, and is, making policy proposals to address these needs, e.g., the ACA. The other party believes in more tax cuts for the rich that somehow will trickle down to the rest of us and let the free market do its thing. That never has worked for anyone but those folks on the top and just gets perpetuated from the execs and CEOs because it's in their best interests. The politicians representing those folks are incredibly good at making you believe it's also in your best economic interests to support them, but the rewards for being loyal to them never gets back to you. So, we can continue to consume the crap that is being served up by the rich or we can shift the levers in our favor by support programs that we actually benefit from. That's our only real way of shifting the economy in our favor. 

Maybe the gender/race gap has to do with guns? This also has to do with economics. Please read, "Gun Fight," by Ryan Busse and you will understand how this has way more to do with the gun industry wanting to make more and more money than it ever had to do with preserving your Second Amendment Rights. And if you spend any amount of time doing the research, it also has nothing to do with our safety as all the statistics will affirm. The vast majority of hunters and sportsmen and women believe in sensible gun laws that protect innocent people and understand our hunting guns and guns for protection are not in jeopardy. The advent of the AR style weapons and the culture around them was an intentional effort by the gun industry and the NRA to sell more guns and now the NRA owns the right side of the ticket, and they will tell you whatever they think they need to that will scare you into supporting them. 

Ok, since we're talking white males, (and you all know I fall into this demographic,) we might as well talk about the elephants in the room named racism and misogyny. Somehow, we have had it crammed down our throat that men are stronger leaders than women. I did a quick search and some of the world's most impactful Prime Ministers and Presidents from Europe, Africa, and Asia going back decades were women. We've never had one. Why? And it has nothing to do with this idea that we haven't had a woman with the credentials. We have but from economics to politics, woman have traditionally been overlooked in this country. It's the "good ole boy" network that is now in jeopardy that is fueling so much of the propaganda, creating this strong man idealism in our culture that again, influences our politics and determines who we elect. The "network" would have us believe that a white man is going to best protect us on the world stage because it is in their interests. It's their bottom line. And they're probably right. It is in their best interest, but it might not be in yours and mine. 

Ok, so now we have racism. Let me just say this. I honestly believe that most of us are not intentionally racist. However, we do tend to lean towards supporting those folks that we feel represent us most and understand our culture best. There's nothing wrong with that until a fear from our leaders is invoked that says that we are in danger of losing who we are as a culture because other people who don't look like us or make the same life choices as us, are going to take it away. This is exactly what is happening when it comes to this push-back against wokism and BLM, etc., etc. Republicans are really good at recognizing this and stoking the fire of fear in order to garner your support when the reality is, we all just want the same things. We just want to be able to pay the bills and live a happy life. Again, it doesn't have to be a competition or an all-or-nothing sum game where either we win, or they win. We can all be happy and thrive if we stop looking at it as an us versus them paradigm. 

I want to share this story, and I want to do so with compassion and empathy for my nephew who was the person I was talking to that I feel, illustrates what folks, specifically white folks, are dealing with. He made a comment about the remake of a Disney movie with a black actor/avatar. He was showing frustration over all these movies he grew up with, being changed now to represent black people or Indian or whomever. What I believe he was really afraid of is that some other group was taking away his culture or forcing him accept something he's not comfortable with because he doesn't either understand them or they don't necessarily represent who he is. The fear is that somehow, they are going to take something from him or make his life more difficult. It represents change for some people and a power reallocation that they might not benefit from. 

I actually understand this. White working men feel like they are having to give up a lot these days. They have to be careful not to say or do anything that might offend this group or that group. They get blamed for other people's struggles even though they had nothing to do with the history of why certain groups are being left behind. They are just trying their best to thrive as well so why is everything their fault and why are they having to pay for it through either affirmative action or even just having to walk on eggshells every day? Again, the problem I see, is that powerful people are using these fears and frustrations to manipulate this population into supporting them and they don't give two shits about solving any of their problems or resolving any of the tension this creates. All they care about is ginning up the base so that they preserve their wealth. If those in power that are spreading the propaganda really cared, they would do less to fuel the fire and present more ideas to make our lives easier and less divisive by offering opportunities for cutting everyday costs, making advancement in our careers more obtainable, and not having to worry about our kid's safety every time they leave the house. Blaming all our problems on a group of people does nothing to solve the problems. It only creates more by perpetuating a competitive ideology where only one group can thrive. 

Change sucks. I get it and sometimes that change is too quick and isn't always in our best interest. That's why we need parties that are there to check each other but do it in a manner that is truthful and in our best interests as a country. Our lives our enhanced by bringing in other cultures and ideas. Our economy would crumble if we decided to kick out all the immigrants, but we also have to figure out how to welcome people in a manner that is responsible. There have been policies proposed to do this and then those policies were shot down because one party couldn't give the other party a win because it wasn't in Trump's best political interests. This is insane to me. And why are we allowing this to happen? 

I never really liked venison growing up. I know. Shocking. I loved hunting--didn't like eating it. Back in the day, everyone in my family thought venison had to be cooked to death, even though the damn deer was already dead. Then we salt and peppered it, smothered it in cream of mushroom soup, and served it on a bed of rice. It wasn't good. It was barely edible. Since then, I have been introduced to other ways of cooking by working with chefs from all over the States. Turns out, venison shouldn't be over-cooked because it turns it into shoe leather and brings out the gamey tastes. I also traveled and worked with people from all over the world. One day I decided to make stir fry out of the venison and thought, wow, that's pretty good. Then I added curry and again, pretty good. Once I made saffron rice...the point is, change can be good and often, that change comes from being introduced to things from other cultures. I'm voting the way I am because I want to stop this fear mongering way of politicking and help bring our country back to a more inviting and inclusive culture. 

I'm just about done, and I realize that 99% of us that are going to vote, have already made up our minds. But if there's a chance that I might influence a few folks, here's my last pitch. I'm tired of the fearmongering. I'm tired of listening to Trump's lies and having those lies being condoned and memorialized by those politicians that are only supporting him for their own economic gains. Their constituents are an increasingly smaller group because they aren't fighting for the average person with real life struggles. Conservatism and progressives are both necessary for our system to work as long as both engage in discourse that is honest and driven by facts. If we are willing to listen, we know who is lying to us and we shouldn't reward those people regardless of whether they are conservative or progressive. My hope is that we finally put Trump and his way of politicking to rest and get back to normalcy. Please, let's get rid of this D-bag once and for all. 

Shoot. I didn't even talk about Montana. Please just consider; Sheehy and Gianforte are all about privatizing natural resources and healthcare among other things. If you want a place to hunt and fish, or if you ever need to go to the doctor, you need to think about that. Seriously. There are a lot of things that the private sector just does better with. Then there are things that the private sector completely messes up by way of squeezing every opportunity for profit out of something. Keep our public lands public and access to our streams available to everyone and healthcare should be a right, not a privilege. That's all I got.

Keep 'em where they live...

First Date Stories

 

Mid-Summer calf elk needing a friend.

It's almost the end of archery season so I wanted to share an update and offer up a story of a particular hunt I had a several years back that may be the most unique first date stories a woman will ever tell. As far as this season's elk hunts go, I've had some pretty epic days hiking around in some crazy burned areas with thick undergrowth and deadfalls and was feeling pretty beat up. However, I got into some great bulls and had some cool encounters but just couldn't seal the deal. It wasn't for lack of effort or even screwing things up as I have in the past--just not the luck I needed but that's how archery hunting goes. With a rifle, my season would have ended quickly but that's not how it works. I'll be back out there when the rifle season starts but for the next few days, I'm working on filling my deer B-tag with a whitetail doe or a decent buck if it presents itself. Now, a first date story. 

As you might expect, the dating pool in Montana isn't very expansive. Put the parameters around that pool that consist of my own personality flaws along with having higher than reasonable expectations, a narrowly focused political perspective, opinions, and most of my time doing 'man' things, and my options for finding my soul mate are pretty slim. However, I have met some amazing women, even felt the love for a couple, but much like my archery hunting for the last few years, I just haven't been able to seal the deal. (Many of my long-time clients suggest that I'm more of the 'catch and release' kind of guy. We could spend hours on why I'm still single but...let's not.) So, in an attempt to broaden the pool of eligible women, at some point years ago, I decided to enter the world of on-line dating. Let me just say this; that world is often cruel and heartless and for every ortho-quinone of dopamine produced by a potential match, it's almost always offset by the norepinephrine released from being ghosted by a majority of the women I have connected with. However, I have had some fun and unique encounters, and this is one that will go down in the books as one of the most unique first dates of all time. 

I was talking with a gal from Idaho who is originally from Australia. We hit it off through text messaging and eventually talking on the phone. She suggested she should come up and visit and see where things go after meeting face-to-face. The problem was, it was September, and I was just about to start my week of time off to chase elk. Trying not to sound disinterested or rude, I danced around the importance of this time of the year to me and suggested there might be a better time like around the beginning of December... (I didn't suggest December, but I was trying to put this meeting off until at least the end of the elk rut. Funny how one time of the year gets one species crazy horny chasing the opposite sex while another species becomes totally oblivious to mates, even if said mate was half-naked sporting a lace teddy with a beer in her hand and the Packers playing on the big screen in the background.) 

The Australian, we'll call her Jenny, was quite persistent and assured me she would love to come hike with me while I chased elk, and she wouldn't screw anything up. She told me she was tough, which she was, as she was raised on a cattle ranch in the Sunburnt Country and can handle her own. 

Not wanting to hurt her feelings I agreed but was emphatic about getting here on-time so we could get up in the mountains before it got too late in the evening. 

"Ok," I said, "But we have to leave my house by 1 o'clock--no later so please get here on-time." 

"I'll be there." She responded. "I promise. Wheels up by one."

Jenny rolled into Helena around 1:40 pm. For those of you that know me, I'm super annal about being on-time--especially when it comes to hunting and/or fishing. I don't make the rules. I don't control how the sun moves across the sky or what time elk decide to wake up and do their thing. I am, however, hyper-aware of the timeframe for getting opportunities at elk and that window only comes once a year for a very brief time. 

As Jenny knocked on the door, my inner-dialog was in the middle of a sort of UFC battle where a nice guy wanting to cut her some slack for putting in the effort and making the trip was getting destroyed by a goon that had him in a headlock, punching him in the face, scolding him for ever agreeing to this. Meanwhile, elk were most likely bugling up a storm right now while I was there trying to be accommodating to some bimbo because she had a hot body and an Australian accent! (To be fair, she wasn't a bimbo. She may, however, have been aggressively pursuing companionship.)

As I opened the door, I tried hard to hide my anxiety for her being late and welcomed her in. I also tried to explain to her, in a kind way, that we needed to get going. I guess she either didn't see the furrowed brow or I was really good at hiding it, because she asked if we might take a few minutes to hang out and then she tried to kiss me. 

I side-stepped and asked her what we needed to get out of her truck before we could get going, which you'd think might be deflating for some women. Jenny, however, was as persistent as a bear on a beehive and somehow, my face must have been covered with honey. She came in for another shot and I realized the only way we were going to move past this incredibly targeted advance was to placate and move on. 

"Ok, we gotta go." I demanded. 

We threw the gear in my truck and headed up into hills. Of course, we wound up trailing another truck going 15 miles an hour. My head was reeling. I just kept cursing myself in my head for caving. I should have just said no but I didn't so I would have to just make the best of it. 

We got to my spot where I would normally park, backed the truck into a little turn-out and turned off the ignition. We both strapped on our boot Gaters, I got my pack on and bow sling, double checked my gear, making sure I had my range finder, release and anything else I might need, and we started up the mountain. Figuring we had a little ways before getting to where the elk might be, I explained the importance staying close to me so I could whisper to her if needed, and so that she always knew what was going on in front of us. If I stopped, she needed to stop. If I got down on my knees, she needed to drop down. She needed to be right on my hip. 

She did a pretty good job of hiking and was a lot quieter than I expected. We hiked straight up a ridge, and she was able to keep up. Along the top of the ridge, and only about 20 minutes into the hike, I swore I heard a cow elk calling. 

"Wait," I said as I put my hand out as a sort of stop sign. "Did you hear that?"

"I think so," she answered. 

"I think that's a cow elk right down there below us." I explained. 

 I pulled my cow call to my mouth and gave out a little, "mee-ewe."

From a couple hundred yards down to the bottom on the drainage, a bull lit up a bugle. 

"Shit," I said. "It's right down there. We gotta make a move. Stay right on my hip." 

We took off down the ridge at a little quicker pace than what we were at on the way up. I wanted to get down to where the elk were before they moved out. On the way, I caught movement and stopped.

"Fuck," I whispered as we bumped right into a spike elk, which in this area, isn't legal to shoot. "Don't move," I whispered back to Jenny. 

The young bull was fixed on us for a few seconds, trying to figure us out. It didn't take long, and he spun and lumbered down the side of the ridge back to where I was sure the rest of the herd was.

"Shit," I whispered to Jenny. "That could be all she wrote." 

I cow called again and again the bull bugled back. This time he was much closer. 

"Let's get down to the creek bottom," I whispered. "Then we'll call and see if we can't get him to come in. But stay right next to me and if I stop, you gotta stop." 

"Ok," she agreed. "This is so cool." 

We got to the bottom of the drainage and crossed the creek. There were a few junipers that lined the creek and created a bit of a curtain between us and where the woods opened up into sporadic aspens and lodge poles. I took my bow off its sling and knocked an arrow. I cow called as we peered out from the curtain of junipers. 

"Russ," I heard Jenny whisper. 

I looked back at her. She was to my left and little behind me. 

"What?" I mouthed the word without making it audible. 

"It's right there," she half whispered while nodding a gesture towards the bull.

With her vantage point being just off of mine, she could see the bull making his way towards us from our right to our left. It was behind an aspen where she could see it, but I couldn't. 

"Just don't move." I whispered. 

The bull stepped out in front of us. It wasn't huge but definitely a bull I would shoot. I quickly took inventory of his head gear and was sure I saw five tines on both sides. He hadn't seen us or winded us, but he knew something wasn't right. He turned to walk back to his harem to make sure he kept his cow group intact. 

I took up my grunt tube to my mouth, wedged the diaphragm call between my tongue and the roof of my mouth and gave a bugle that wasn't too aggressive, resembling a smaller bull trying to get in on his action. 

This either created just enough curiosity for the bull or frustration causing him to turn back to investigate. He walked right back to where he had retreated from just a few seconds before and stopped broadside, well within my bow range. 

I drew my bow back, settled the 40-yard pin right behind the bull's shoulder, and gently pulled the trigger on my release. I then watched as my arrow sailed right over the back of this bull. The bull spun as the arrow smacked a log behind him and he busted out of sight. 

It was only then that I took the time to do what I should have done before drawing the bow back. I pulled my range finder out and ranged a log the bull was standing next to. The log was only 25 yards out. With the terrain, I was sure this bull was between 35 and 45 yards away. My 40-yard pin should have been the right pin but, I was off, and the bull was gone; fortunately, unscathed. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I whispered with the intervals between the word becoming shorter and shorter with every utterance of it. 

"That was incredible," she whispered. 

"I missed, though," I said with absolute defeat. 

"Yah, but, oh my god....that was so intense." 

The "what-ifs" occupied every synapse of my brain for the rest of the hunt. Had I shot that bull, it would have only been a few hundred yards from the truck and downhill the whole way. How easy that would have been? And how crazy would it have been to have to pack this thing out with a woman who had never done anything like that before? A woman I had literally just met a couple hours ago.

That was Jenny and my first and only date. Turns out, she was a bit of an adrenaline junky who had different ways to find her fix that were manifested more through chemicals than experiencing life. We talked a couple times after that but we both knew we had different plans for sharing time with a partner. We both got a good story out of the deal, and I guess should be grateful for that. I also grabbed another box to check on the ever-growing inventory of characteristics I should be screening for in the dating scheme. 

Well, it's another day and the 2024 archery season is about to come to a close. I better get out there chasing another story. By the way, keep tuned in for another dating story that ends with a much better outcome.

Keep 'em where they live...

Youngster

Just a quick update as I only have a couple days left to my scheduled time off to chase elk. It's been pretty cool. I've checked out some new areas and have gotten into a lot of elk. This little spike I called in to about 20 yards and watched him for a good twenty minutes before he buggered out. I'm a meat hunter and would be happy to shoot anything legal for a freezer full of elk steaks but spikes are not legal to harvest in this area. 

I've spent a fair amount of time in the Lincoln area this archery season. The hiking has been brutal with all the dead fall in the burn areas. At times, I find myself practicing my balance beam routine on these logs as it's the only way to get through the tangled mess of dead and down, underbrush, and pecker poles. The good thing is I feel like I can safely rule out in any neurological or balance issues. 

Today I got within 50 yards of a huge bull that looked like a Clydesdale walking through the woods. He was with a couple rag horns but couldn't get a shot through the trees. I'm not sure what I would have done had I put one down in that kind of stuff. 

I did locate a bull last night in an area much easier to get to and with it being mid-week, I feel like I may have the mountain to myself. I've killed many elk in this area so let's keep our fingers crossed. Only two days to go!

Keep 'em where they live...

Day One--Happy Birthday to the Ex...

I know this is going to sound a little crass, but I usually mark the time I want to be out chasing elk by my ex's birthday. I've shot more elk on that day, or within a day or two of that day, than any other day. I told that to a client once and he asked if that's because that's when the elk are the most active or is it a coincidence, that I'm usually out hunting on that day instead of with her? And is that why she's an ex? It's a fair point. Regardless, this is go-time for me and this year, it is day one and an epic day one at that. (To be fair, I did spend a couple days last week, scouting and found some elk, which led to this opportunity.)

Last week I did locate these elk across the drainage from my neighbor's property near Lincoln, MT. He has a camper set up on 50 acres and elk often cross through there. When I went up there last week to scout it out, I spotted what I thought were about 25 elk with a couple bulls bugling. They were on private property with no way to get to them accept maybe driving around to the other side of the mountain and hiking up over the top.

So, my first day of my scheduled time off, I had to make a choice; do I go to one of my money spots or do I go to the area around Lincoln where I spotted these elk? Lincoln is about an hour away and then you have to hike. But it's an easy hour of driving. One of my favorite spots is only 30 minutes out, easy hiking and I've killed several elk up there, but is becoming increasingly busier and busier with the parking area filled with Texas, Oregon, and Minnesota license plates. Another of my favorite spots is only 26 miles but takes almost an hour and a half to drive because the road sucks. By the time I get back from that place, I feel like a pair of old tennis shoes I've tried to re-constitute in a washer and dryer. 

The weather is a factor as well. It had been raining for two days and the wind is a constant 20 miles an hour with swirling gusts. I don't want to bust anything out of one of my favorite spots with the wind so, it's recon time and Lincoln gets the call. 

The onX app is an amazing tool. It shows all the public lands and block manage areas where a hunter can access spots that normally, you wouldn't be able to see on a map. Before heading over, I was able to locate some access points to a ridge and plateau just above the area where I located this herd of elk last week. I knew it would be bit of a hike and a gamble that those elk would ever venture off private land, but if I got up there and didn't see anything, at least I eliminate it from options for the rest of the week. With such a short time to hunt, being economical in your time is always on your mind. One of the biggest factors for me is how much time do I have left to hunt and am I just wasting time in areas that aren't holding elk. A few hours in the afternoon doesn't seem like much on day one but day seven of eight? With the weather not being ideal, I felt ok with the outcome if I was scrapping day one in order to check out new country. 

The plan was set to access some block management land adjacent to the ridge I was looking at. One thing that doesn't show up on onX however, is random closures to block management. When I got there, the area was in fact, closed. Instead of seeing the green sign on the sign-in box that all hunters need to sign in as a kind of permission slip to hunt, there was the red sign signifying a closed area. Damnit. 

As we often taught our kids in Alternative Youth Adventures as a core value, "adapt, improvise and overcome." On to plan B.

I drove up the drainage to the National Forrest boundary. It would be a straight up hike through dead falls and a burn area, but I could get right up above where I had seen these elk. Again, a lot of work with no guarantees. More than likely, I would locate the herd, and they would still be on private land with no way to call them off. They ain't stupid. They know where they are safe but not a lot of options now as I have committed to the plan, so I bust out my gear and make the painful climb to the top. 

Of course, as luck would have it the wind is directly from my back, which is no good for trying to sneak into an area with elk. And it's swirling and pretty much completely screwing me. My motivation is dwindling and every step over a fallen tree is making the trek up less and less desirable. I look back down to the truck every once in a while, as I can see it the entire way up and wonder if I should just get back down and drive around for a while hoping something would cross the road. Wow, that sounds like I'm becoming a road hunter...

Pride won't let me give in. I keep hiking up. 

As I crest the ridge and keep pushing through the underbrush that grows thick as the Tom Sellek's mustache in these burn areas, I look up to the ridge to the North and low and behold, there's a fricken elk standing there. 

"Holy crap," I thought to myself. 

Just seeing an elk on public land is a win. And now, the entire day changes and there's no need to manufacture some kind of motivation through pride or the fact that "at least I'm out getting exercise experiencing nature..." It's like when a client tells you that they just enjoy getting out on the water and they don't care if they catch anything. You may say that but it's not what we're here for. It's like negotiating with yourself, justifying spending the time and energy or money and not being successful. Yeah, I know. Are you a glass half empty or a glass half full person where you try your best to make everything a positive. Those people drive me nuts. I'm a realist and as much as I'm here to enjoy the outdoors, part of that is seeing elk and actually believing I've got a chance and this sighting is telling me, "So you say I have a chance..." 

By the time I spotted this elk, I was already past her and now, slightly downwind with her being about 400 yards uphill to the north. I could circle more downwind to the east and up the ridge and either wait her out and see if she keeps feeding along the ridge or I could walk back upwind towards her and try to get close enough for a shot. The one thing I was pretty sure of, however, is that she wasn't alone. Taking my time and trying to locate the herd would most likely dictate my next moves and before long, I started spotting more and more elk along the ridge and even heard a couple bulls bugling. This was going to get interesting and because I had managed to inadvertently sneak past them, I had put myself in a really good position. 

I worked my way through the deadfalls and brush more downwind of the group of elk and started working my way back up to them. It's a huge burn area so pretty open with new growth pines we often refer to as "pecker poles." I'm not sure why it just is what it is. They offer some cover but aren't grown up enough to obstruct the view of these elk. I find it difficult to cover ground without continually glassing the elk to make sure I haven't busted them out. The wind is offering cover from the noise of pushing through Sellek's mustache and these elk are content on feeding. I keep pushing until I'm within a couple hundred yards of the herd. 

I don't call. These elk are busy doing their thing. I hear a bull bugle and figure I'll let him do the work. Then I hear another bull that is obviously quite a bit larger than the first. I can't see him, but you just know with the growl and the depth of his voice. He's just different. 

At some point, one of the smaller bulls steps out. He's decent. Probably a small six-point. He's circling around as if to inventory the cows. He's not big enough to be the herd bull. Then another smaller bull steps out. I'm well within 200 yards of these bulls and only about 120 yards from the closest cow. It's decision time. I think there are about 20 elk in this group, and I really want to get a look at the herd bull, so I place the diaphragm call against the roof of my mouth, bring the grunt tube to my lips and belt out my own bugle just to test the waters. 

The herd bull crests the ridge in front of me, about 200 yards out. He is huge and he's coming. 

But his aggression shifts from me to the other two bulls in the herd and I watch as he lowers his head and charges them. They want nothing to do with this guy and the run off, scampering over dead falls and brush doing anything possible to create distance between them and the monarch. The two bulls drop down into a draw and then up the adjacent ridge before stopping. Game f'n on!

I bugle again and the monarch turns to look my direction. He takes a couple steps my way, tilts his head back, curls his upper lip and rips a big growl at me. All I have to do is piss him off just enough and like an enraged, half-drunken jealous boyfriend, he'll come charging and I will get my shot.

I pull my range finder out and pick a couple burnt stumps he should pass by. If he follows the path, I envision him taking, I should have him at forty yards. I range him. He's cut the distance to about 150 yards and stops. I see him licking his nostrils trying to figure me out. The wind is swirling and every once in a while, I feel the air on the back of my neck, and I know he's getting a whiff of something he's not sure of. He turns and walks back to the middle of the herd. He's not convinced I'm something he needs to confront, and I feel the anxiety of these less-than-ideal conditions, with the swirling wind in my head telling me I need to make my move. 

This is what drives elk hunters crazy and what we talk about in the off-season. It's the "what-ifs," and the, "if I had just done this..." that we lament on. The truth of the matter is, there is no right answer to what to do in this situation. Your options are to either wait it out or to make the charge. If you wait, the hope is that these elk mill around a bit and eventually, one of them gets close enough for a shot. I have a couple cows within 120 yards. I have three bulls that are messing with each other. One is a giant. But I also have a swirling wind and there is a high probability that one of these elk will get my sent, bark, and game over. 

If you charge in, or sneak in, there's a chance you could close the distance and get a shot...what's not happening is this bull is not going to come to the call and I'm just alerting the herd to the fact that something they're not all that sure about is 120 yards away and they are getting nervous. 

There is a draw between myself and the herd and I'm able to drop down so I'm out of sight. I take my chance figuring I can come up the side of the draw and be within 50 yards of a cow. I'm a meat hunter. I'll take the cow if I get the chance. 

As I drop down, I don't hear the pounding of hoofs on the shale that would indicate them busting out. I'm feeling pretty good I'll get within shooting range. But as I crest the top of the draw, the one thing I was afraid of rings out across the mountains as one of the bulls on the other side of the drainage that had just been chased out by the monarch barks and all hell breaks loose. I had no idea the number of elk that were in this draw and it's something I'll never forget. 

The sidehill from where the bark came was to my left across a draw. Ahead of me were the elk I was sneaking in on. To my right was another draw where the knob I was sneaking up on sluffed off to where I couldn't see down into it. When the elk barked on the sidehill, all the elk in front of me and to my right started filing out. Dozens and dozens of elk came up out of the draw and crossed directly in front of me. There had to have been a hundred elk in this herd. I had no idea and part of me just watched in awe. The noise they made. The dust they kicked up. It was like watching a stampede of horses in some old spaghetti western. 

I blew on my cow call just hoping to stop one of them within range and it worked. Two spike bulls stopped 40 yards out. The problem is you can't shoot spikes in this area. 

I pushed up the hill to get a better vantage point almost becoming part of the herd. It seemed to take minutes for all these elk to bust out of the draw.

One of the cows stopped 65 yards away and stood broadside. I had already knocked an arrow before making my move knowing that if it happened, it would happen quick. I drew my bow back, settled the pin behind her front shoulder and as I pulled the trigger on my release, she bolted. I watched my arrow sail right behind her flanks. I then continued to watch as this herd of at least a hundred elk disappeared over the next ridge, still hearing the clicking of hooves against the shale and snapping of branches as the they tore through the pecker poles and underbrush. 

As I immediately engaged in the "what-if's" that will occupy my mind for the next year if the rest of the season isn't successful, I turned to the ridge to the southeast and noticed another herd of at least 75, maybe 100 elk feeding about 600 yards away. 

"Jeezus!" 

One of the bulls in that group was bugling. I thought about shifting my focus, but I needed to find my arrow and confirm the miss. I also knew these elk were straight downwind and there was no way to get around them so with tail between my legs, I spent the rest of the evening climbing down the mountain, going over what I should have done or would have done had I known there were that many elk in that draw and at some point got to the realization of how fricken awesome that was. Day one was a success. In just about every measure for every bow hunter, it was a success, and it will get keep me motivated for the rest of the week. 

Keep 'em where they live...

Let's Go Hunting!!

 

It's been a pretty amazing fishing season this year. I've geared my efforts towards novices to the sport and people who really want to learn how to fish and it's been a lot of fun. Most memorable were the kids; the fourteen-year-old grandson who his grandmother paid for four days of floating and wade fishing, the fifteen-year-old champion barefoot water-skier, and all the parent/kid two-sums. I also had the pleasure of putting together a trip of newly graduated teens as an awesome graduation gift from some really cool parents. Get your kids out there. I guarantee, once they tie into a Missouri River bow, they won't miss their screens except to post about how awesome fly-fishing is. 

Now, it's on to hunting. I'll still be on the river for a few trips from the end of September through October, but for the next eight days, I'll be chasing rutted up elk. This is what I dream of for 11 months out of the year. I'm dialed in and excited to get after it. As with every year, you can follow the successes and epic fails here. 

Also, I drew an antelope tag for Northeastern Montana. If you remember from last year, I took a trip out there, hunting birds and deer. It was so much fun, I put in for a goat tag and with only a 21 percent success rate in that area, I won! I'm excited because I really like antelope meat. (Pronghorn for you flat landers.) If you've never had it, you should. Don't believe the folks that claim it's gamey. If taken care of and prepared properly, it's the most tender and least gamey of all the wild game I've eaten. 

Follow along. Today is day one!

Keep 'em where they live...

River Etiquette 101: Rec Floaters, Anglers and Fishing Guides

 

WARNING: There will be some incredibly profane language in this post as I quote from people I've run into, or should I say, have run into me on the river.

I hesitate to write this post, but I feel like it has to be done in order to accurately depict what we go through guiding on the Missouri River in the heat of the summer. Before we begin, I want to stress the reality that we all have a right to enjoy the rivers out here in Montana. Whether you are a kayaker, rafter, angler of any kind, guide or tuber, we all have an equal right to access and recreate on the rivers. However, or should I say, and we also all have an equal responsibility to respect each other's rights to not only access the rivers, but also enjoy and not be harassed when working or just trying to have fun.

As guides we get a lot of blame for the over-use of our rivers. Private anglers feel like we are putting so much pressure on them that they can no longer enjoy their experiences. Floaters complain that we act like we own the rivers because we scoff at them when they don't give us space or run into us. I'm going to share a few stories with you just to give some perspective and then you form your own opinions. Then maybe we can have a discussion on what, if anything, needs to be done about how people treat each other on the rivers and who should be limited. 

This discussion begins with an interaction I had with a friend and his wife about a week ago. My buddy has been a guide. His wife enjoys floating. The conversation begins with my buddy asking me how the spring season is going to which I shared how good the fishing is but it's also pretty busy out there. Even for April, tons of boats are hitting the river, maybe to get out there before all the rec-floaters pack in and it gets too busy. 

My buddy's wife shared an experience where she was floating down the river in a tube and had some woman fishing out of a boat, scoff at her as she floated right past the front of the boat and through this woman's line, she was fishing. 

"I couldn't help it," she explained. "My short little arms and legs couldn't paddle hard enough to get away from them and all they could do is give me the look, like I was purposefully trying to ruin their fishing."

"Well," I started, which is where I should have finished but those of you who know me, know I can't, "do you know how frustrating it is to be trying to guide and get people on fish while giving other people space and then have someone float right through your line or even run into you?" 

"It's my river too," is what usually comes from folks when we have these discussions, and although I don't know if that's exactly what she said, I'm certain it was very consistent with that. 

"I get that, but where else in this world is that acceptable? Where else could you just let yourself cruise down the road or through a park without any concern of running into people and have that be, ok?"

Again, I want to stress the point from above; you have just as much right, you have just as much responsibility. And I tried to explain this but instead of trying to understand what we go through daily; she stormed out of the conversation. I was the asshole. So let me share these stories and you decide. Trust me, these are real stories. No exaggerations or hyperbole. 

We got out late one day and tried our damndest to find a stretch of river that would be out of the way of wade fishers and floaters. We felt like if we started where most of the floaters would be putting in, we would be well behind the wave of rec-folk from that put-in and ahead of the next wave from the put-in above us. As it turned out, we got right in the middle of all of it. 

The first interaction came below what we call the "Doll House." It's a sexy looking bank on the outside bend of the river with big boulders that cause swirls and seems that trout love to hang in and chow on bugs that drown in the eddies. In order to fish the seams adequately, you really need to get on the oars and slow the boat down so your folks can get a long enough drift before re-casting and hitting the next seam and/or scum line. 

As we fished the bank, I heard a group of rafters coming from behind us. I looked back to see roughly seven or eight inner-tubes tied together, careening towards us. None of them were kicking their feet or paddling with their hands to try to avoid us. I dropped anchor and told my clients to sit down and brace themselves because these tubers were going to ram us. 

As the floatilla of rafts bounced off of us, I looked at the guy closest to me and made eye contact. His ass was deep into his tube with his legs hanging over one side and a bag of potato chips in his lap. With one hand he held a beer that came from the cooler wedged into another tube he had tied off that floated along with him, and the other hand, he was stuffing chips in his mouth as he proclaimed, "Sorry dude, I couldn't control where we were going," Spit and chips spewed from his mouth with every word. As he finished his apology, he continued to stuff more chips into his mouth and then washed them down with beer. 

"You have legs," I said. "You're very capable of avoiding us. Keep yourselves in the middle of the river and nobody has to be bothered. I don't come to your work and harass you. I'm just asking for the same." 

"Sorry dude," as he stuffed more chips in his face. 

Innocent enough, right? Yeah, it would be but it happens all the time. In this particular incident, nobody got hurt and life goes on but that's not always the case. 

A few years ago, a floatilla of tubes rammed a bridge above of a set of rapids on the lower stretch of the Missouri below Prewett Creek. I got there about a half hour after it happened. All that was left of the floatilla was a couple elongated tubes pinned to the bridge abutment bobbing with current and random articles of clothing and drink cans and coolers littering the banks downstream. A couple of young women were standing on the bank of an island just down from the bridge. They were soaking wet, shivering and obviously shaken up. 

The river turns from a slow, meandering current to class-two rapids in this stretch. It's not all that dangerous if you are in a raft or boat and are following the current as it tumbles around boulders and over gravel bars and twists and turns until it settles and straightens out about 3/4's of a mile downstream. However, if you are floating without anything like a tube or even a lifejacket keeping you up, it can be pretty intense. None of these young ladies were wearing lifejackets and by the looks of them standing there, they were in no position to jump back into the water to get to the main bank. 

As I noticed the girls on the island, I saw a buddy of mine rowing across the channel, back to the island. He had dropped his client's off and was ferrying girls from the island back to the bank along the railroad tracks, which some of them had already gotten to and were beginning to walk out. 

"Munson!" I yelled, "you ok? You need help?" 

"I got it," he yelled back. "These are the last two!" 

I gave him a thumbs up and we headed downstream. 

That same stretch a year prior, I pulled a kayaker out of the river and then raced down to rescue his vessel. It wasn't a big deal, and I would expect every guide would do the same. Most of us have played that role and would certainly jump into action without hesitation when things go south. We want people to have fun and to be safe. 

That same day the dude with the chips rammed us, we were posted up on a pod of fish a couple miles downstream from where this incident happened. We call this stretch, "Grassy Banks." The water is moving just fast enough to created great seems along the bank and a giant gravel bed upstream brings food to these seams. Fish get stacked up and are often happy to reward a good cast and a good drift with the right dry fly. However, they will be finicky at times and a little spooky so slapping the water or putting a shadow over them will most often, put them down. 

We were about 20 feet off the bank, fishing down to a pod of these rising trout. Again, I hear a group of rafters coming our way. I turn back to literally watch the guy on the sticks pulling hard to position the 18-foot orange raft with about 8 people, right in line to run along the bank, over those fish. He couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 feet from us while passing. 

You have to understand, the river on this stretch is a couple hundred yards wide. If one were to just let the boat drift, you'd probably stay out in the middle. With very little effort at all, a person in a raft with oars would have no problem avoiding someone fishing the bank. This guy made the effort to float between us and the bank as if it were some game. But that wasn't the worst part. 

As the raft slipped by us, I said, "Come on, man. You purposefully floated right through these rising fish." 

His response, and I apologize if it offends you but..."Fuck you, you fucking boat nigger. It's our river too." And he flipped us off. The rest of the group just laughed. Nobody apologized or even thought to push back on what their captain did to screw with us, and nobody had a problem with what he said.

That's messed up right? But it's got to be the outlier...Nope. Ask any of the guides up on the Missouri and nearly every one of us has had a similar story of someone doing and saying equally offensive crap. In fact, that term, "boat-nigger," is used way more often than you would think. And what's our recourse? We can't do or say anything because we have clients with us. All we can do is drop anchor, let them go by, and take it. Why? Because it's their river too? Equal rights, equal responsibility. 

A week later I was floating through the canyon with clients throwing hoppers. We came to a flat along the inside bend of the river. I turned the boat sideways so both clients could cast straight downstream. Again, we were on the inside bend, which is opposite of where the natural flow of the river wants to pull people. Another raft floats by and I watch the guy start pulling to get in front of us and when he got directly downstream, only about 20 yards from us, he relaxed and stopped rowing. 

"Hey, could we get a little room here?" That's all I said. I didn't yell. I didn't call him out. I just asked for a little room.

Tied off to his raft was a tube where a young girl was drifting along in. On the raft was a woman I assumed was his wife and a boy who appeared to be about 14 years old. This guy was setting such a great example.

He turned back and said, "Yeah, you can have room. As soon as we're done floating here." 

He then chuckled and turned to the boy, gave him a little head-nod and the then boy launched himself off the raft and cannon balled in front of us. Classic. 

This kind of behavior is ridiculous, and the unfortunate thing is, I could go on and on and on with story after story of similar incidences. I'm just one guide. EVERY guide could come up with many, many more similar stories with similar language and an equally gross disregard for just respecting each other's rights. 

I was wade-fishing on the Blackfoot on a stretch higher than where it gets big enough to float and a guy and his wife started fishing the same pool I had my client in. I looked at him like, "are you kidding me?"

"It's a big river," he said which is what they all say when you call them out on their shit. 

"It's literally ten yards wide," I said. "You guys watched us walk upstream while you got your gear ready at the bridge." 

"Well, we came here to fish this pool." He replied. 

"We're already here," I said. "Etiquette would say you see us going upstream, you go down. Give each other space." 

"Well, it's my river too." Again, the canned response.

"Yeah," I agreed, "and it's equally your responsibility to respect the fact that it's our river too." 

"Fine," he conceited, "we'll just sit and wait." 

He literally sat on the bank and watched my gal catch about 10 fish out of this pool before we were satisfied, we had enough and moved on. Meanwhile, this guy's wife was so embarrassed, she headed back downstream and started fishing by herself.  What is wrong with people?

I know, this sounds like another whiny guide complaining about other users. I'm entitled, right? Or am I just concerned that we're ruining opportunities for everyone to enjoy these resources if we don't live by that rule of equal rights, equal responsibility? The problem is, if these encounters continue and we don't figure it out, we start legislating against the negative behaviors. But who's behaviors are the negative behaviors? Is it coming from the rec-floaters who don't respect the basic etiquette and are harassing the guides and anglers, justifying it through a feeling us taking it from them, or is it in fact, coming from the guides who are putting too much pressure on the river who also may have an entitled attitude? Well, it's whomever has the power to influence legislation that will ultimately win this war. Is that what we want?

I look at what has been happening on the Madison. There's a huge battle going on right now over this very issue. And unfortunately, what the question comes down to is who has more rights to the resource when in fact, it should be about defining the acceptable behavior and when and who will enforce it when users cross the line.  We already put limits on fishing, seasons on when one can fish certain rivers, permits on some of the rivers for commercial use or even recreational use, and so on. Why can't we put similar parameters around use by all users on these rivers? Because it's our rights? 

So, what really is the crux of the problem? There is over-crowding at times in specific places on specific rivers. I think I read somewhere that the first seven miles of the Missouri below Holter Dam is the most heavily used stretch of river in the state. The Lower Madison, the Blackfoot and the Clark Fork also get hammered. Littering is a huge concern. Public intoxication and harassment all negatively impact the quality of experience for everyone. I think we can agree on these basic truths. And if you don't, I would invite you to just sit and watch what happens any Saturday or Sunday at about 5 o'clock in Craig, MT at the FAS. It's embarrassing. Drunk people trying to back trailers down the boat ramp while everyone else waits, beer cans and other garbage being dumped in the toilets or just left inside the outhouses, people shouting at each other across the river, coolers of Naty Ice and White Claws getting dumped into the river, drunk people passed out on the bank, and on and on. 

I tell you what would make my life easier on the Missouri if I were king for a day. We would charge commercial users more than $100/year and even though rec-floaters now have to purchase a conservation license, I'd make them purchase a permit for every vessel they put on the river every day. That extra revenue would go towards enforcement and clean-up. I'd also start having law enforcement writing tickets for boating while intoxicated, public intoxication, assault, littering, and checking every vessel for PFD's. 

I would put time-restraints on when people could put in personal floatation devices such as tubes and personal rafts or unicorn rafts that are obviously meant for recreational floating and not fishing. One o'clock would be the daily start times, and, on the weekends, they could only put in at the Holter Dam and Stickney Creek FAS's. That would ensure most of the interactions between rec-floaters and anglers would be eliminated. It would also give anglers a chance to plan their float to avoid encounters. 

A buddy of mine suggested that all guides would have to be off the river on the weekends by 4 o'clock. I would support that with one caveat, that the restriction only pertains to the stretch of river between the Wolf Creek Bridge and Prewett Creek FAS's. After 4 o'clock, the rest of the river is kind of a moot point. 

I would also restrict any containers that are not reusable. You want beer? Get a growler. Water is easy. You want flavors? Throw in some water crystals. I pick up garbage bags full of Naty Ice, White Claw, and Miller Lite cans, and plastic water bottles all summer long. People drop bags of garbage off in the outhouses. If we can't choose to be more responsible, then screw it, let's enforce it. It's ridiculous how much garbage finds its way into the river every summer and for the most part, the guides are the ones picking it up because we're embarrassed to see it when we have clients. 

I don't have all the answers to resolve these conflicts. Unfortunately, they are happening way too often. Covid had a big impact on the crowds as more people are doing things outside and more people are moving to Montana. What happens, as there's more use and more crowding, limiting the guides is usually the first answer because it's the easiest and we're a smaller contingency with less influence. But we are the ones picking up the garbage and fishing people out of the river. We don't litter. We don't drop toilet paper all over the islands or dump garbage in the outhouses. We bring millions of dollars to the area that in large part, get spent to take care of these resources yet we're the ones that get blamed for the crap that goes on. 

We need to figure this out before we start destroying these resources or degrading them to a point where people stop spending their money out here. Roughly 15% of us work in tourism and travel. Many more work in industries that also make money off of us. We need to realize that we all live in a community where our actions have consequences and eventually it will come back to each and every bad actor. 

Now, get off my lawn. 

Keep 'em where they live...

P.S. I definitely encourage people to participate in a discussion that leads to resolving these issues. I don't expect to get 100% consensus, but please, one thing that drives me crazy is when guides go all PC and say, "well, they have a right to the river too..." By saying that, you are missing the point. Nobody's rights are more important or supersede anyone else's rights.  No more excuses.