Backcountry Journal Winter 2016

SPECIAL FEATURE: THE HIGH DIVIDE REGION OF IDAHO AND MONTANA - PAGE 24 

BACKCOUNTRY 

JOURNAL 

The Magazine of Backcountry Hunters & Anglers WINTER 2016 

PLUS: EVERGLADES NATIONAL PARK, 

BACKCOUNTRY OF NORWAY, BIOLOGY 

AND MYTHOLOGY OF DEER ACTIVITY, 

BANNING DRONES FOR HUNTING 

AND MORE

PRESIDENT’S MESSAGE 

THE LAST RETRIEVE 

I HEADED NORTH in pursuit of Hungarian 

partridge and pheasants. With me were 

three trusted colleagues and my two loyal 

Labs, Gabriel and Turk. We started hunting 

around 1 p.m. on some new ground. 

We worked a creek with lots of cover, perfect 

pheasant habitat. Together we kicked 

up a few roosters but had no real shots. 

The brush was thick and the birds were 

jumpy. So we turned to the foothills in 

pursuit of Huns. 

Then it happened. After working up 

a hillside, we turned down following a 

ridge. Eleven-year-old Gabriel’s tail started 

to wag in the familiar way. He’d found a 

bird’s scent, and, by the frequency of his 

wagging tail, it was fresh. A Hun exploded 

with a squeak, right in front of the old 

boy’s nose. I shouldered my 12-gauge and 

dropped the bird. The race was on between 

Gabe and Turk, with Gabe arriving first. 

Swaggering proudly, he brought the bird 

back to hand and the symphony was complete. 

In a moment, Gabe’s hunting career 

and home life flashed before my eyes. His 

first retrieves, his best retrieves; that bond 

only understood by those with gun dogs. 

I didn’t know it then, but that was Gabe’s 

last retrieve. 

When we arrived home, I cleaned the 

plump Hun and put it in salt water to cure. 

Gabe was already showing aches from our 

day afield. He had arthritis in both hind 

legs, brought on by hundreds of cold entries 

and exits from the duck marsh. I gave 

him some buffered aspirin, a healthy dinner, 

a bowl full of water and an extra pat 

on his head. That night he woke me up 

twice. The pain in his eyes was palpable. 

Twice I sat with him and told him what 

a good dog he was. He wagged his tail in 

acceptance. The next day he worked out 

his stiffness and looked to have recovered. 

Gabriel lived to hunt. It was the apex 

of decades of breeding and thousands of 

hours in the field. The next morning I 

again headed north, this time in pursuit 

of waterfowl. Gabe stayed home and sixyear-old 

Turk made the trip, a changing of 

the guard that didn’t sit well with the elder 

statesman. We had a great day with Turk 

making a 200-yard retrieve on a mallard 

and a triple blind retrieve on the last three 

widgeon we shot. The latter was the culmination 

of a summer’s work on the command 

“BACK” – a victory in its own right. 

Back home, Gabe sniffed us with disgusted 

interest, having not recovered from 

the insult of being left behind in the early 

hours. As I cleaned the birds, Gabe hung 

around but seemed to eye me in a different 

way. “Really, Boss, this is what it’s come 

to?” The look was painful, but true. 

Last fall, I put down my best friend. I’ve 

been holding on to Gabe’s ashes, not wanting 

to let him go. In January, I returned 

him to the field. I took him back to where 

we hunted many times, the Teller Wildlife 

Refuge, and he will find his resting place 

next to where I spread my father’s ashes 

just over two decades ago. 

In honor of Gabriel and all great gun 

dogs, I wanted to share my memory of his 

last retrieve. Memories of our times afield 

are the kinds of things that motivate us at 

BHA in our ongoing efforts to conserve 

prime fish and wildlife habitat, expand our 

ability to access important lands and waters, 

and support robust populations of the 

species – including Gabe’s beloved pheasants 

and Huns – that we all love to pursue. 

These are what drive us to serve you, our 

members, and help fulfill BHA’s mission. 

And Gabriel? I know he’ll be there with 

me in the duck blind and pheasant brush, 

so long as my own legs still can carry me 

out there. 

Onward and Upward, 

Land Tawney 

President & CEO 

After a successful morning hunt, Land, 

Cidney, Colin and Turk return Gabriel’s 

ashes to their favorite spring creek. 

Gabe retrieved countless ducks and 

geese out of these very waters. 

WINTER 2016 BACKCOUNTRY JOURNAL | 3

YOUR BACKCOUNTRY 

NEW FACES AT 

BHA NATIONAL 

HEADQUARTERS 

TO ENHANCE the functionality of 

BHA’s headquarters office, improve the 

services we provide to our members, 

and increase our ability to reach up-andcoming 

backcountry sportsmen, BHA 

recently added two new staffers to our 

Missoula office. 

Frankie McBurney Olson joined BHA 

in December as our director of operations, 

where she’ll be working to streamline 

internal operational functions of the 

organization, including financial controls, 

human resources and compliance. 

Born and raised on a cattle ranch outside 

of Ronan, Montana, Frankie grew 

up hunting, camping and enjoying all 

that the wonderful state of Montana 

has to offer. After graduating from the 

University of Montana, she began her 

work in the nonprofit sector. Frankie has 

fundraised for the University of Montana 

and American Cancer Society and most 

recently was executive director of Habitat 

for Humanity of Missoula. 

Frankie’s love of the outdoors brought 

her to BHA. She is very excited to be part 

of the conservation effort so that her two 

young boys can enjoy the same experiences 

she did growing up. 

Sawyer Connelly came to BHA in 

November as our new campus outreach 

coordinator, in which role he’ll be building 

a network of BHA clubs at colleges 

in Montana and elsewhere. With the goal 

of engaging the Millennial Generation 

with BHA and our conservation vision, 

he hopes to create opportunities for students 

to experience and advocate for the 

conservation of our wild public land and 

waters. 

Sawyer moved to Missoula from Colorado 

College in Colorado Springs, where 

he graduated with a degree in environmental 

science in May 2015. Originally 

from New England, he’s an avid fly fisherman 

and working hard to become a 

successful big game hunter in the West. 

THE SPORTSMEN’S VOICE FOR OUR WILD PUBLIC LANDS, WATERS AND WILDLIFE 

BOARD OF DIRECTORS 

Ben Long (Montana), Co-Chairman 

Joel Webster (Montana), Co-Chairman 

Sean Carriere (Idaho), Treasurer 

Jay Banta (Utah) 

Ryan Busse (Montana) 

President & CEO 

Land Tawney, tawney@backcountryhunters.org 

Southwest Chapter Coordinator 

Jarrett Babincsak, jarrett@backcountryhunters.org 

Campus Outreach Coordinator 

Sawyer Connelly, sawyer@backcountryhunters.org 

Conservation Director 

John Gale, gale@backcountryhunters.org 

Backcountry Journal Editor 

Sam Lungren, sam@backcountryhunters.org 

Communications Director 

Katie McKalip, mckalip@backcountryhunters.org 

Chapter Coordinator 

Ty Stubblefield, ty@backcountryhunters.org 

BHA LEGACY PARTNERS 

A big, backcountry high-five to the following 

Legacy Partners who have committed $1000 or 

more to BHA for the next three years. To find out 

how you can become a Legacy Partner, please 

contact grant@backcountryhunters.org. 

Cidney Brown, MT; Dan Edwards, OR; Whit 

Fosburgh, DC; Stephen Graf, NC; Richard Kacin, 

PA; Ted Koch, NV; Peter Lupsha, NM; Robert Magill, 

UT; Chol McGlynn, CO; Nick Nichols, MT; Robert 

Tammen, MN; Karl Van Calcar, CO; Michael Verville, 

ME; Barry Whitehill, AK; 

J.R. Young, CA; Dr. Renee Young, CA 

JOURNAL CONTRIBUTORS 

Jarrett Babincsak, Jack Ballard, Tim Brass, Madison 

Dapcevich, Tim Davis, Holly Endersby, Chad Fealko, 

Karl Findling, Erich Gnewikow, Bryan Huskey, Ben 

Long, Terry Myers, Tim Romano, Toni Ruth, Brandon 

Shuler, J.R. Young, Chad White 

Cover photo: David Frame - Blue Mountains, WA 

BHA HEADQUARTERS 

P.O. Box 9257, Missoula, MT 59807 

www.backcountryhunters.org 

admin@backcountryhunters.org 

(406) 370-4325 

STAFF 

Sean Clarkson (Virginia) 

T. Edward Nickens (North Carolina) 

Mike Schoby (Montana) 

Rachel Vandevoort (Montana) 

Michael Verville (Maine) 

Development Associate 

Grant Alban, grant@backcountryhunters.org 

State Policy Manager 

Tim Brass, tim@backcountryhunters.org 

Clearwater Basin Coordinator 

Holly Endersby, hollye@hughes.net 

Outreach Coordinator 

Brian Jennings, brianjenningsmedia@gmail.com 

Operations Director 

Frankie McBurney Olson, frankie@backcountryhunters.org 

High Divide Coordinator 

Toni Ruth, truthinsalmon@gmail.com 

Sponsorship & Outreach Coordinator 

Caitlin Twohig, caitlin@backcountryhunters.org 

Interns: Madison Dapcevich, Alex Kim, Callie Weinert 

CONTACT CHAPTER CHAIRS 

alaska@backcountryhunters.org 

arizona@backcountryhunters.org 

britishcolumbia@backcountryhunters.org 

california@backcountryhunters.org 

colorado@backcountryhunters.org 

idaho@backcountryhunters.org 

minnesota@backcountryhunters.org 

montana@backcountryhunters.org 

nevada@backcountryhunters.org 

newengland@backcountryhunters.org 

newmexico@backcountryhunters.org 

newyork@backcountryhunters.org 

oregon@backcountryhunters.org 

pennsylvania@backcountryhunters.org 

utah@backcountryhunters.org 

washington@backcountryhunters.org 

wyoming@backcountryhunters.org 

JOIN THE CONVERSATION 

facebook.com/backcountryhabitat 

plus.google.com/+BackcountryHuntersAnglers 

twitter.com/Backcountry_H_A 

youtube.com/BackcountryHunters1 

instagram.com/backcountryhunters 

Tim Davis photo 

BY KARL J. FINDLING 

OWYHEE CANYONLANDS 

Backcountry Hunters & 

Anglers Pursues Permanent 

Protection for ‘Oregon’s 

Grand Canyon’ 

MOST OREGONIANS DON’T KNOW 

the name, history or even proper pronunciation 

of the Owyhee region, let alone 

where to find the tiny river and vast canyonlands. 

Just look at the bottom right 

corner on an Oregon map, say “Hawaii” 

with a silent “H” and you’re on your way. 

The Owyhee River, flowing northwest 

out of Nevada across southwest Idaho and 

into Oregon, is the lifeblood of a rural, agricultural 

economy. History abounds in the 

region. Three Hawaiian trappers were the 

first to enter the canyon in 1819, earning 

it the name. They were never seen again. 

Native tribes warred with the first white 

explorers and settlers for 50 years. Basque 

immigrants from northern Spain shaped 

the culture. Mexican vaqueros, as well as 

the cattle and sheep wars at the turn of the 

century, helped create an atmosphere not 

found anywhere else in the West. 

Known for its picturesque landscape, 

with thousand-foot sheer cliffs and volcanic 

tuff formations, the Owyhee is home 

to native redband rainbow trout, chukar, 

large unbroken prairie for the greater sage 

grouse and the largest free-roaming herd of 

California bighorn sheep. Stunning whitewater 

flows through the plateau, creating a 

classic high desert, spring-runoff river for 

kayaking and rafting. Salmon used to follow 

the river all the way into Nevada, before 

the Owyhee Dam blocked their passage 

in 1932. The tributaries crisscrossing 

the region form one of the largest sub-basins 

in the Columbia River Basin, draining 

11,000 square miles of desert. 

The Owyhee runs deep in my psyche. 

I was raised in the eastern Oregon town 

of Ontario, near the Owyhee’s confluence 

with the larger Snake River. I have dozens 

of black and white photos of family members 

from as far back as the 1930s: holding 

a brace of pheasants, large Chinook or silvery 

steelhead caught just below the confluence 

of the Owyhee and Snake rivers. 

An aunt and uncle lived on a section of 

the lower river below the Owyhee Dam 

where they raised a family and farmed 

the fertile land. I grew up hunting upland 

birds and waterfowl on their reach. I killed 

my first buck in the upper canyonlands in 

the mid-1970s. I fished all of the lengthy 

reservoir in boats my father built for a 

living. I spent two glorious summers as a 

wildland firefighter and range aid technician, 

protecting rangelands in my county. 

These rugged lands and wild waters are 

one of the largest conservation opportunities 

in the entire West. They are an integral 

part of the entire sagebrush steppe ecosystem 

that supports more than 350 species 

of wildlife. With such incredible fish and 

wildlife values, the Owyhee Canyonlands 

not only nourish some of Eastern Oregon’s 

most cherished landscapes; they also feed 

the traditions of hunters and anglers lucky 

enough to have visited these places. 

Backcountry Hunters & Anglers and 

our grassroots leaders have been working 

on the ground for more than 10 years both 

in Idaho and Oregon to find meaningful 

conservation solutions that preserve these 

landscapes. By working together in Idaho, 

a diverse group of stakeholders was able to 

advance legislation to secure 517,000 acres 

of wilderness that protects the Owyhee’s 

vast upper highlands – all of it in Idaho. 

While much of the river itself has been 

designated Wild and Scenic, the pristine 

backcountry lands in Oregon that flank 

her banks are vulnerable to development 

interests. Our neighbors in Idaho were 

smart to get out in front of this. We believe 

that by working with stakeholders 

like farmers, ranchers, hunters, anglers, 

local governments, and state wildlife and 

federal land management agencies, we can 

develop thoughtful ways to secure permanent 

landscape-level conservation policies. 

We hope these measures elevate consideration 

for habitat, protect access and ensure 

that land management policies balance resource 

development, wildlife management 

needs and the interests of ranchers. 

As BHA’s Owyhee outreach coordinator, 

I look forward to working with our partners 

to advance permanent conservation 

measures for the Owyhee Canyonlands 

that provide balance and greater certainty 

for fish, wildlife and the future of our 

hunting and fishing traditions. 

Karl owns Oregon Pack Works and is a 

27-year professional fire captain and former 

paramedic with Bend Fire and Rescue. He 

enjoys spending time outdoors with his two 

girls, ages 9 and 11. Reach him at karl@oregonpackworks.com 


JOIN BHA TODAY! 

Become part of the Sportsmen’s Voice for 

Our Wild Public Lands, Waters and Wildlife. 

BACKCOUNTRY BOUNTY 

Name: 

Address: 

1 

City: State: Zip: _ 

Phone: 

Email: 

All memberships include membership sticker, bumper sticker and 

one-year subscription to our quarterly Backcountry Journal. 

Yes! I would like to join BHA at the following level: 

Monthly contributor at $ _______ per month. 

$25 – Individual 

$60 – 3-Year Individual 

$35 – Family 

$90 – 3-Year Family 

$100 – Supporting: Includes 

BHA hat. Please select your 

style: 

Lifetime – See page 8 for Life 

Membership specials! 

2 

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Hunt and fish in style! Order your BHA merchandise here: 

$18.95 – BHA Hat 

$24.95 – BHA T-shirt: S M L XL 

Style: 

Style: 

$49.95 – BHA Sweatshirt: $10 – BHA Stainless Steel Mug 

S M L XL 

Please make your check payable to Backcountry Hunters & Anglers. 

Or, pay with your credit card: 

Card Number: __________________________________________________ 

Expiration Date: _____________Signature: __________________________ 

3 

1 

2 

Hunter: Henry Hess, BHA Member 

Species: Whitetail State: Montana Method: 

Rifle Distance from nearest road: One mile 

Transportation: Foot 

Hunter: Mark Kuipers, BHA Member 

Species: Elk State: Montana Method: Bow 

Distance from nearest road: 2.5 miles Transportation: 

Foot 

Mail your completed form to: 

Backcountry Hunters & Anglers, P.O. Box 9257, Missoula, MT 59807 

You also can join and shop online. 

Visit www.backcountryhunters.org! 

3 

4 

5 

Hunter: Daniel Ostersmith, BHA Member 

Species: Elk State: Washington Method: 

Rifle Distance from nearest road: 3.5 miles 


Hunter: Abbey Brasher, BHA Member 

Species: Elk State: Wyoming Method: Rifle 

Distance from nearest road: Two miles 


Hunter: Ava Snow, BHA Member Species: 

Mountain Goat State: Montana Method: 

Rifle Distance from nearest road: Five miles 


Send submissions to sam@backcountryhunters.org 

5 


Protect the Backcountry 

FACES OF BHA 

FOR LIFE 

JOIN TODAY AS A BHA LIFETIME MEMBER AND CHOOSE ONE OF THESE GREAT GIFTS: 

Backcountry Hunters & Anglers is proud to offer an extraordinary opportunity. For a limited time, 

receive a FREE Seek Outside tent or Kimber firearm with your BHA Life Membership commitment. 

There is no better time to act! Become a leading contributor to a community of like-minded 

sportsmen and women who truly value the solitude, challenge and freedom of the backcountry 

experience. Help us protect and promote our legacy. Hurry, this exclusive offer expires soon! 

JOSH MILLS: Spokane, Washington 

Radio Advertising Sales Manager, Wild Steelhead Coalition Board Member 

THREE GREAT OPTIONS WITH THREE GREAT GIFTS 

1 

Join for $2500 and get a Seek Outside 12-man Tipi Tent with liner and XXL stove (MSRP 

$2135) or Kimber Mountain Ascent Rifle in .308 Win, .300 WSM, .300 Win Mag, 7mm 

Rem Mag, .270 Win, .270 WSM, .280 Ackley Improved or .30-06 Springfield (MSRP $2040) 

2 

3 

Join for $1500 and get a Seek Outside 6-man Tipi with liner, large stove and carbon pole 

(MSRP $1494) or a Kimber Stainless II .45 pistol (MSRP $998) 

Join for $1000 and get a Seek Outside Cimarron Tent Bundle – medium stove and 6.5-foot 

stovepipe, nest and stovejack installed (MSRP $1029) or Kimber Micro Carry .380 pistol 

(MSRP $651) 

IN ADDITION YOU WILL RECEIVE: 

• Subscription to the quarterly 

Backcountry Journal 

• Recognition in Backcountry Journal 

• Assurance that your dollars are helping 

conserve valued backcountry hunting 

and fishing traditions 

WELCOME NEW LIFE MEMBERS! 

Dave Brandt 

Kip Carpenter 

Derek Copas 

Kevin Malliris 

James Monteith 

Paul Moseley 

Jeffrey Red 

Jack Rentz 

INTERESTED? CALL OR EMAIL GRANT: 

grant@backcountryhunters.org (406) 370-4325 

Adams Surta 

Lynda Tucker 

Joshua White 

Elliott Woods 

BHA life member Mike Miller of Boise 

harvested this mountain goat with 

the Kimber Mountain Ascent rifle he 

received with his life member commitment. 

He was hunting solo, 50 miles 

up a dirt road and eight miles by foot 

into the Frank Church-River of No Return 

Wilderness. 

HOW DID 

YOU GET INTO 

HUNTING AND 

FISHING? 

1 

I have always been by 

my dad’s side hunting 

and fishing since I can 

remember. I started fly 

fishing when I was 19. 

That was a galvanizing 

event that really kicked 

my passion. I’ve hunted 

since I passed my hunter 

ed course at 11 and 

started deer hunting 

after that. I have to say 

I am one of the worst 

deer hunters out there; 

I just have not had a lot 

of luck. I also really enjoy 

watching my dogs 

work in an upland field. 

But my biggest passion 

overall is steelhead fishing. 

That’s what really 

charges my jets. I especially 

enjoy being a part 

of conservation and 

wild fish restoration issues 

as a board member 

for the Wild Steelhead 

Coalition. 

It was a really awesome 

educational experience, 

watching influence 

happen real-time, when 

you can be hand-inhand 

with lawmakers, 

knowing where people 

stand. You get to understand 

the dynamics 

of how Washington is 

played and how even 

sportsmen, everyday 

guys and ladies, can 

influence and be part 

of public government. 

That allows us to push 

the public access message 

and get the Land 

and Water Conservation 

Fund pushed 

through, even though 

it is a bit of a quagmire 

with certain leaders 

who caused a delay in 

the renewal. Access is 

elemental to the experience, 

and if we don’t 

stand up we won’t have 

TELL US ABOUT 

YOUR D.C. FLY-IN 

TO SUPPORT THE 

LWCF. 

places to go hunting 

and fishing and places 

to take our kids. Also 

just seeing stuff change 

in one day and seeing 

senators spit on the 

floor and openly talk 

about LWCF and how 

they want it reauthorized 

and watching people 

change their minds 

for the better. And also 

seeing the negative side 

of some of our governmental 

policies. I was 

honored to be part of 

the BHA contingent 

that went back there. 

I left some flies in senators’ 

offices that were 

red, white and blue. 

Hopefully they’ll sit on 

somebody’s desk and remind 

them that sportsmen 

and sportswomen 

have a voice. 

WHAT 

ATTRACTED YOU 

TO BHA? 

BHA is people-driven. 

That’s why I was attracted 

to it. I became 

involved when they 

had the rendezvous 

in Spokane last year. 

It was a blast. You get 

this instant feeling that 

you’re with your people. 

It’s the same way I felt 

when I started working 

at the Wild Steelhead 

Coalition: this is where 

I want to be, this is a 

group that I want to 

be a part of. I became 

a BHA member about 

eight months ago, but 

I really see myself being 

more and more 

involved. 

WHAT IS THE 

BIGGEST THREAT 

TO SPORTSMEN? 

The way I see it, apathy 

is our biggest threat. 

And that has to do with 

the fact that everyone 

thinks someone else 

will handle the issue, 

that someone else will 

stand up for what is 

needed, that someone 

else will lead the fight. 

The truth is we have to 

engage every person we 

possibly can, get more 

people involved in the 

sport itself. I think we 

struggle with the inability 

to add as many 

people who I am sure 

would love it but just 

haven’t gotten into 

hunting and fishing. 

I think that is the biggest 

challenge that our 

sports face. Unless you 

help, you are part of the 

reason why we stand to 

lose our heritage. 


KIDS’ CORNER 

W W W . B A C K C O U N T R Y H U N T E R S . O R G 

5THRENDEZVOUS 

ANNUAL 

April 1-3, 2016 / Missoula, Montana 

HOLIDAY INN 

MISSOULA DOWNTOWN 

200 SOUTH PATTEE 

MISSOULA, MT 59802 

GUEST SPEAKER 

STEVE RINELLA 

BREWFEST 

LIVE AUCTION 

SILENT AUCTION 

RAFFLES • SEMINARS 

HUNTING IS FOR GIRLS 

BY JARRETT BABINCSAK 

“NONE OF THE BOYS in my class know 

how to safely handle a gun, and they’re 

all really jealous that I get to hunt!” announced 

my 10-year-old daughter Savannah, 

beaming with pride as she burst 

through the door Monday after school. 

She had graduated from hunter safety the 

Saturday prior and was reveling in being 

the coolest girl in fourth grade. 

My wife Kelly and I have been open 

with our girls about the reasons why I 

hunt and how the meat they eat ends up 

on their plates, but we have never tried to 

force hunting on them. We expose them 

to all kinds of activities and experiences 

and then let them choose which ones they 

want to pursue. Savannah has asked to be 

involved in the hunt since she was just a 

little squirt, but we’ve been careful to bring 

her along at her pace. 

It was important to us that Savannah’s 

involvement match her maturity. Sometimes 

hunting parents push their kids to 

kill animals before they are capable of 

making such big decisions on their own. 

If you’re not ready to hunt but still want 

to be out in the woods with Mom or Dad, 

just tell them so. There’s no rush. Taking 

a life is a big decision and an emotional 

experience, so think it through and trust 

your gut. You’ll know when you’re ready. 

Savannah has hung out with me for short, 

fun hunts in deer blinds, hiked through 

the desert looking for quail and small 

game, and helped me process deer in our 

barn back in Indiana. She sometimes carried 

her bow around to stump shoot, but 

no animals were injured. 

The point is, she’s learned a lot and had 

a ton of fun. Our early outings together 

were adventures, and she was learning 

valuable lessons and skills. 

A few months ago, Savannah came to 

me and asked if she could take hunter safety. 

She was ready to be the hero in our outdoor 

adventures, so we signed up to take 

the class together. A few days after nailing 

the written and field tests, Savannah was 

bringing home a cottontail for the frying 

pan. She handled the moment of her first 

kill with grace and humility, acknowledging 

the gravity of what she had done and 

taking great care with the meat. She was 

also super pumped and loves telling the 

story. She is on her way as a hunter and 

I’m very proud of her. 

Savannah and did I a little Q&A about 

learning to hunt. We hope you enjoy it! 

Me: What do you enjoy most about 

spending time outdoors? 

Savannah: Hearing the sounds of nature. 

It’s like the spirits of the animals are 

talking to me. It makes me feel comfortable 

and like I’m at my forever home. 

Me: You’re just getting started as a 

hunter. Can you tell me something you’ve 

learned so far? 

Savannah: Hunting is not about killing 

animals; it is about having fun and having 

a great experience outdoors. Just know 

that when you kill something you are taking 

an animal’s life away, so you should be 

thankful for it. 

Me: Do you think your friends and the 

kids at your school understand where meat 

comes from? 

Savannah: I think they know that it 

comes from animals but not how it’s processed 

or handled. It doesn’t just come out 

of thin air. An animal was killed for the 

meat, and I don’t think that most people 

think about that when they eat it. 

Me: What would you say to someone 

who said hunting, or shooting guns and 

bows, is for boys? 

Savannah: No matter male or female 

everyone is born with free will and can 

choose to do what they want. And, I have 

been to archery shoots with you and outshot 

most of the boys. P.S. I’m a girl. 

Me: How do you feel about animals? 

Savannah: I love them. I want to be a 

veterinarian when I’m older. 

Me: Then why would you want to kill 

them? 

Savannah: Well I love animals, but I 

hunt them for the meat, not the hide or a 

mount. Humans are supposed to eat meat 

and I like doing things myself. Anytime I 

eat meat, I say a prayer, “Thank you for 

your meat and I respect you.” 

Jarrett is BHA’s Southwest chapter coordinator. 

He lives in New River, Arizona withhis 

wife Kelly and daughters Savannah and 

Grace. 

BUY YOUR TICKETS www.backcountryhunters.org BOOK YOUR HOTEL Holiday Inn, Missoula, MT 


POLICY 

THESE ARE NOT THE DRONES 

YOU ARE LOOKING FOR 

State Chapter Jedis Take the Lead on Banning 

Unmanned Aerial Vehicles for Hunting and Scouting 

not have access to drones. Drones violate 

the spirit of Wyoming’s long tradition of fair 

chase hunting.” 

Thanks to the leadership of members like 

Buzz, BHA has defended the belief that 

hunting should require skill, woodsmanship 

and hard work – not some new fancy gadget. 

By explicitly prohibiting the use of drones for 

hunting and scouting in regulation booklets 

throughout the county, BHA has upheld the 

finer points of hunting, while placing limits 

on an industry that’s constantly pushing the 

latest gizmo to make hunting easier. 

This success did not come on its own – 

it came through hard work and dedication 

from BHA members like Corey Ellis who 

spearheaded efforts in New Hampshire to 

ban the use of drones, in addition to live-action 

game cameras and “smart rifles.” 

“There were several things that led to our 

successful drone ban,” Corey said. “First, we 

worked closely with Fish and Game Department 

officials to carefully craft the language. 

Second, we gained public support by submitting 

letters to the editor in several papers, as 

well as submitting interviews for stories on 

the proposal. And maybe most importantly, 

we showed up at the public hearing where 

BHA was the only hunting group willing to 

stick our neck out on the issue.” 

While there was no single recipe for success 

that Buzz, Corey and the many other 

chapter leaders followed to get drone bans in 

place, it’s worth looking at the general playbook 

that BHA followed on the campaign, to 

replicate the success as we look toward taking 

on other issues at the state level: 

Educate – Make it an issue. BHA was on 

the forefront of addressing the use of drones 

for hunting and scouting as their use was 

barely beginning to emerge. Because chapter 

leaders were working to tackle an issue 

before it became an issue, the first challenge 

was to make sportsmen – and wildlife agencies 

responsible for managing technology in 

hunting – understand the threat that drones 

posed. Online videos of drones scouting 

moose and shooting pigs were a particularly 

effective way to show the potential for abuse. 

Coordinate – Coordinate with BHA staff 

and other state chapter leaders to… 

Replicate – There’s no need to reinvent the 

wheel. It turns out, what worked in Montana 

and Colorado works just about everywhere. 

The hotkeys CTRL+C and CTRL+V can 

work wonders on proposals, especially with 

volunteer time in short supply and high demand. 

Share – With help from many of you, 

BHA shared efforts far and wide through social 

media and internet forums, happy hour 

conversations and in media outlets that range 

from Field & Stream to The Economist. 

Celebrate –Take a minute and soak up the 

suds. You deserve it! 

A big thank you to the BHA chapter leaders 

and volunteers who armed themselves 

with pen, paper, phone and keyboard. They 

fought for the opportunity to unplug and 

experience that unique, backcountry connection 

to the natural world. 

Tim is BHA’s state policy manager. He lives 

in Longmont, Colorado. 

Bryan Huskey photo 

BY TIM BRASS 

ONE THING THAT CONTINUALLY sets 

BHA apart is the ability to identify and act 

on emerging issues in a nimble yet strategic 

manner. While the organization has 

grown significantly in the past few years, 

it has retained the quick approach to effectively 

tackle issues – sometimes before 

others have even acknowledged that an issue 

warrants the attention of the sporting 

community. BHA’s work to keep drones 

out of hunting is case in point. 

When BHA members first saw videos 

emerge online of unmanned aerial vehicles 

being used to hunt and scout wildlife, they 

did not sit back and wait for drones to become 

an issue. Instead, BHA chapter leaders 

took it upon themselves to defend the 

principles of fair chase and stop drones for 

hunting and scouting, before widespread 

use could take hold. 

That all started during the fall of 2013. 

Fast forward just two years, and, thanks 

to the efforts of our state chapters leaders, 

rules are now in place that ban the use of 

drones for hunting in nearly every Western 

state (Washington pending), as well as an 

increasing number of Eastern states. Several 

states, such as California and Nevada, 

had effective regulations on the books already. 

On Dec. 14, 2015, the Federal Aviation 

Administration announced new rules 

requiring registration of all drones in a national 

database, thanks in part to this and 

other such outcries against drone abuse. 

BHA chapter leaders spearheaded drone 

bans in Alaska, Colorado, Idaho, Minnesota, 

Montana, New Mexico, New Hampshire, 

New York, Oregon, Vermont and 

Wyoming. BHA put the issue on the map, 

spawning bans even in states without BHA 

chapters. 

As Wyoming BHA Board Member Buzz 

Hettick put it during a drone ban hearing, 

“Strictly from an ethical standpoint, you 

just don’t want to give hunters an unfair 

advantage over other sportsmen who may 

costadelmar.com 

12 | BACKCOUNTRY JOURNAL WINTER 2016 


BHA ONLINE 

BE SOCIAL! 

BHA reached new heights on 

Facebook during November 2015, 

reaching nearly 1 million fans with 

viral posts, catchy contests and 

conservation-focused ads. This 

social buzz also resulted in more 

than 50,000 visits to BHA’s website 

in just one week. 

Facebook- 101,551 followers 

Twitter- 6,427 followers 

Instagram- 7,565 followers 

YouTube- 3,974 subscribers 

2 

3 

1 People’s Choice: Samantha Moulding 

“I harvested this bull last weekend in Montana. I am 

16 years old and fortunate enough to be able to take 

this bull as my first.” 

1 

4 

2 

3 

4 

The Haunts: Craig Van Arsdale 

Alaska 2015 Brooks Range float hunt 

The Harvest: Hailey Malepeai 

Hailey’s first chukars! 

The Hunt: Mark Trousdell 

Searching for that perfect goat in Tumbler Ridge, BC 

14 | BACKCOUNTRY JOURNAL WINTER 2016

BACKCOUNTRY BISTRO 

EAT YOUR 

HEART OUT! 

BY J.R. YOUNG 

TWENTY-FOUR YEARS LATER, the 

moment of my first elk kill is still vivid. 

The pursuit, the chaotic moment of the 

shot, getting my hands dirty in a way I 

never had before. Shortly after the kill, 

another hunter saw my dad and me and 

came over to congratulate us. 

As we finished gutting the elk, he asked, 

“Are you going to take that liver?” 

“Nope,” Dad replied. 

“What about the heart?” 

“You’re welcome to anything that comes 

out of that cavity,” Dad said. At 13, I followed 

my dad’s lead, unbeknownst to the 

wonders of offal. Dad still isn’t a fan, but I 

wouldn’t dream of letting a liver, heart or 

tongue fall to the scavengers. 

Heart is 

Read more 

about out-ofkitchen 

food prep at 

backcountry 

hunters.org. 

probably the 

easiest of 

the above to 

serve in the 

backcountry, 

a little prep 

and it eats like steak – it’s just a muscle 

after all. Here’s how I do it: 

First, slice off the very top of the heart, 

removing the aorta and other arteries. 

Next, very delicately remove the fat and 

pericardium, the external membrane surrounding 

the heart. The disposable, scalpel-type 

blades are great for this task. Once 

the exterior is cleaned up the internal 

chambers need to be removed. This task is 

like coring a green pepper – you’re removing 

the equivalent of the pepper’s internal 

white membrane and seeds. Now that the 

exterior and interior are done, I make one 

slice from the top of the heart to the bottom 

(on one side only) and then roll it out 

flat. Now you can clear up any interior tissue 

remaining. 

The final step is to pound out the heart 

to an even consistency. I will pack a quality 

gallon Ziploc freezer bag just for this 

purpose. Find a couple of flat rocks, use 

your cookware or any sort of hammer-like 

object. Give it a solid pounding and try to 

get the tissue as even as possible. It doesn’t 

need to be perfect, but the ability to lay 

the heart flat will help it cook more evenly. 

Since the heart is thin and effectively 

cooked just like a steak, I like a hot fire or 

high heat if you have a stove. Sprinkle the 

heart with a little salt and pepper. Sear a 

minute or two on each side and be sure to 

let it rest for a couple of minutes before devouring. 

Medium rare is perfect, medium 

if you have to, any more than that and you 

should have left it to the scavengers (only 

slightly kidding). 

Depending on available amenities, slice 

the heart up and eat it with your fingers if 

you’re miles from a road, or toss it in a tortilla 

with some onions and cilantro if the 

truck is close. Bonus points for a squeeze 

of citrus or hot sauce. 

If you haven’t had fresh heart, I encourage 

you to do so. In fact, I challenge you to 

find a more delectable cut of meat from an 

hours-old kill. 

J.R. has worked in the corporate tax world 

for the past 10 years to support his hunting 

habits. On a whim he attended the 2nd Annual 

BHA Rendezvous in 2013 and was so 

impressed by the folks he met that he signed 

up to start the chapter in California. 

Sam Lungren photo 

16 | BACKCOUNTRY JOURNAL WINTER 2016

CHAPTER NEWS 

BHA STATE CHAPTERS: 

Working for Wildlife and Protecting Public Access 

ALASKA 

The Alaska Board of Game Dall 

Sheep Working Group met for the first 

time the weekend of Dec. 4-5 in Anchorage. 

The working group consists of 40 

members who represent various organizations, 

Fish & Game advisory committees, 

and federal agencies, along with three 

Board of Game members and five members 

of the public chosen by the board. 

Mark Richards is representing AK BHA 

on the group. 

The diverse makeup of the working 

group will attempt to hammer out what 

issues and concerns there are with Dall 

sheep conservation and state management 

policies, with the goal of reaching some 

kind of consensus that leads to recommendations 

to the Board of Game for the 

upcoming statewide meeting March 2016. 

-Mark Richards 

ARIZONA 

The last six months have been the 

best for recruitment in our chapter 

history. We went from 26 to 95 members! 

The bulk of our new memberships can 

be attributed to partnering with the Full 

Draw Film Tour at their Flagstaff, Phoenix 

and Tucson showings. 

On Dec. 16, the Pima County Board of 

Supervisors passed a resolution opposing 

any effort to transfer national public lands 

to the state or local governments. The resolution 

also recognized that the state does 

not have the financial capability to responsibly 

manage public lands. Land transfer 

will be a hot topic in our state legislature 

this year, and our chapter will have to stay 

on top of it. 

We are planning to have a state-wide 

meeting in early February to elect officers 

and come up with plans to keep track of 

federal and state plans that affect access to 

our public lands. We have been reacting 

to proposed changes, and we will try to 

address issues that are bad for public use. 

-Jim Littlejohn 

COLORADO 

On Aug. 26 Colorado BHA 

members met with U.S. Sen. Cory 

Gardner at a Sportsmen’s Happy Hour 

in Denver to discuss LWCF reauthorization 

and related issues. Later, during October, 

the chapter hosted two Hunting 

Film Tours (in Montrose and Gunnison). 

Thanks to Kevin Alexander, Doug Clowers 

and Craig Grother for setting these up. 

Chapter leaders also submitted comments 

on the state’s trail development plans, the 

Parks and Wildlife Commission authority 

to set hunting and license fees, and the 

BLM’s proposed Fourmile Trail System 

Expansion. 

Colorado BHA has also secured bipartisan 

sponsorship of legislation that would 

expand public hunting and fishing access 

on Colorado’s state trust lands (currently 

only 16 percent of state trust lands are 

open to public hunting and fishing). In 

addition, Ross Bruno joined the chapter’s 

Habitat Watchmen program for the 

Pike National Forest, growing CO BHA’s 

boots-on-the-ground numbers to 25 Habitat 

Watchmen covering 10 of 11 Colorado 

National Forests. 

Habitat Watchman Brad Nicol joined a 

group of BHA members for meetings in 

Washington, D.C, on Sept. 30 to advocate 

for reauthorization of the Land and Water 

Conservation Fund. -David Lien 

IDAHO 

Idaho Chapter officers will be 

meeting Jan. 28-31 to plan chapter 

activities and set goals for 2016. If you 

have an idea for a chapter project or would 

like to be involved with a chapter activity 

contact either Derrick or Ian via the Idaho 

BHA webpage. We will be developing 

a list of projects that the chapter will undertake 

in 2016 and will be sending these 

out to the Idaho membership in February. 

The 2016 legislative session will begin 

soon. We will be watching the legislative 

process carefully and keeping you 

informed on items that are of interest to 

hunters and anglers. Once the session 

starts, watch your inbox for “Idaho BHA 

Action Alerts.” 

Idaho BHA continues to be represented 

on the Clearwater Basin Collaborative and 

a number of other public lands collaboratives, 

committees and panels around the 

state. BHA could not be effective in Idaho 

and around the country without the time 

our members put into representing us. A 

big, backcountry thank you to all who volunteered 

your time for the backcountry in 

2015. -Derrick Reeves 

MINNESOTA 

Minnesota BHA had a table at 

the Hunting Film Tour in Minneapolis 

on Sept. 11. Thanks to Joe Lang, 

Will Jenkins, Brent Rivard and Steve Anderson 

for making this happen! Not to be 

outdone, Erik Jensen, Mark Norquist and 

Brent Rivard volunteered to teach/mentor 

new hunters as part of the Minnesota 

DNR’s Adult Learn-to-Hunt Whitetail 

Deer program. The chapter also sent a letter 

to DNR Commissioner Landwehr, requesting 

clarification on the DNR’s stance 

regarding drone-related regulations. 

In addition, Minnesota BHA joined 

forces with Sportsmen for the Boundary 

Waters to co-host a showing of “Fish Out 

of Water,” a three-part film series produced 

by BHA member Mark Norquist 

that showcases what’s at stake in the BW- 

CAW, which is threated by proposed copper-ore 

sulfide mining. The event attracted 

some 150 attendees, 17 of whom became 

new BHA members. Mark also produced 

“Flush In The Wild,” a short video about 

a veterans journey into the Boundary Waters 

Canoe Area Wilderness. A big thanks 

to Mark for developing this and getting 

Erik Packard (also a BHA member) out on 

his first ruffed grouse hunt! -David Lien 

MONTANA 

We’re excited to announce changes 

to make our chapter more effective 

in meeting the expectations of our 

Frank Romero (left), district ranger for the Medicine Bow- 

Routt National Forest and Thunder Basin National Grassland, 

wanted to strategically place educational signs in critical 

winter range areas. Due to lack of funding, this project had 

been on hold for many years. The goal of the project was to 

inform people that they were entering winter range area and 

that is why there are seasonal road closures – to give the area 

wildlife a much needed refuge during the harsh Wyoming 

winters. 

The Wyoming Chapter provided the initial $3,500 to 

get the ball rolling, and that initial funding leveraged 

another $37,000 to complete the project. Through a couple 

of fundraisers and a donation, the project was funded in six 

months. After another six months of waiting for the signs, 

they finally arrived in time to be installed prior to the onset 

of winter. This project was a great collaboration involving 

many people’s time and effort. A big thank you goes out to 

everyone involved! Trevor Herrman (right) is the treasurer and 

co-chair of the Wyoming Chapter of BHA. 

members and BHA’s core mission of hunting, 

fishing and conservation in Montana. 

Greg Munther recently transitioned from 

co-chairman of the chapter to become 

our very first conservation director. Greg’s 

new role will allow him to focus his energy, 

experience and vast knowledge on 

conservation issues in Montana. We also 

congratulate Greg for being named “Hero 

of Conservation” by Field & Stream magazine 

for his work protecting the Marias 

River. 

We’re also proud to announce that former 

board member Hannah Ryan is now 

a chapter co-chair and Steve Platt has accepted 

the role of board member. Steve is 

presently spearheading a river inventory 

effort across Montana to assess non-motorized 

hunting and fishing opportunities. 

The MT chapter urged the Beaverhead-Deerlodge 

National Forest to protect 

wildlife winter habitat – including those 

areas used by mountain goats, moose, elk 

and deer – while designating winter motorized 

recreation areas. We also wrote a 

letter to the editor supporting closure and 

decommissioning of some roads in the 

Bitterroot National Forest. We promoted 

a petition that gathered over 3,000 signatures 

across Montana, urging the BLM 

to retain public ownership of the Durfee 

Hills near Lewistown. 

MT BHA now has a very attractive 

Montana vehicle license plate featuring a 

backpacking hunter. Get yours in January 

of 2016 and support BHA! -John Sullivan 

NEVADA 

In between deer, elk and sage 

grouse adventures, the Nevada Chapter 

has been busy working for the future of 

wild lands in our state. Regulatory issues 

were important this fall, as the BLM’s Carson 

City Resource Management Plan was 

up for final review. The Nevada Chapter 

submitted comments arguing in favor of 

backcountry designations to protect important 

wildlife habitat and published letters 

to the editor in support of the same. 

We are continuing our involvement in 

the Humboldt County Elk Management 

Plan, working to ensure healthy, huntable 

populations of pioneering elk. We have 

submitted comments on mining proposals 

in the Excelsior Mountains in central Nevada 

and Bald Mountain and Rossi mine 

expansions in Elko County, as well as 

wildlife water developments in two Elko 

wilderness study areas. The highlight of 

the fall was the decision from the Fish and 

Wildlife Service that a greater sage grouse 

listing was not warranted. This was a big 

victory for all of the parties that worked 

so hard to come up with conservation 

plans to protect key habitat, and Gov. Brian 

Sandoval has set an example of how to 

work collaboratively to accomplish shared 

goals. Chapter Chairman Chris Mero was 

published on the issue in the Las Vegas 

Review Journal. We actively monitor and 

comment on actions of the state Sagebrush 

Ecosystem Council. As we head into 

the New Year, we’re praying for snow and 

looking forward to outdoor fun in the Silver 

State. -Kyle Davis 

NEW ENGLAND 

Board member Eric Nuse represented 

BHA New England at a forestry 

roundtable that included all the ANR 

commissioners, the Vermont congressional 

delegation staffers and the heads of 

all the major environmental NGOs. He 

advocated for expansion of the Conti National 

Wildlife Refuge and hunter/angler 

access on conserved lands and lands enrolled 

in the value assessment program. 

In New Hampshire, Dan Williams received 

the legislation filed on his behalf 

by reps Dan Feltes, Katherine Rogers and 

Jonathan Manley regarding banning intentional 

winter feeding of deer. This bill 

will be debated in the upcoming legislative 

session. 

The chapter gained eight new members 

in the month of November. This was due 

largely in part to the “Backcountry in the 

Brewery” event that Eric Nuse put on in 

Vermont. 

The BHA-NE meat pole got heavier 

as at least three members tagged deer, including 

an impressive 8-point that board 

member Tovar Cerulli shot opening weekend 

of the VT rifle season. -Dan Williams 

OREGON 

Over 3,400 people have signed 

the Oregon Chapter’s petition to 

keep the Elliott State Forest public. For 

almost a century, this coastal gem has been 

a popular spot to hunt Roosevelt elk and 

blacktail deer. Now it’s up for auction and 

sportsmen risk losing 94,000 acres of public 

land to private interests. The Oregon 



Chapter has produced a white paper on the 

Elliott and been pressing media outlets and 

state officials on the issue. The paper and petition 

can be viewed on BHA’s website. 

BHA Chapter Coordinator Ty Stubblefield 

has been busy hosting Backcountry at the 

Brewery events in western Oregon. These informal 

get-togethers are a great opportunity 

to meet other sportsmen, learn about BHA 

and talk about issues in the region, all over 

a pint of local brew. Events were held in Eugene, 

Roseburg, Medford and Portland, and 

netted over 30 new members. -Ed Putnam 

WASHINGTON 

The Washington Chapter commented 

on the reintroduction of grizzly bears in 

the North Cascade Mountains. The banning 

of drones for hunting needs a restart. Summer 

forest fires and key personnel out-of-pocket 

were not addressed at the meeting with the 

Washington State Advisory Board. The chapter 

supported Trout Unlimited’s letter to the 

Washington Fish & Game Commission regarding 

native steelhead in Puget Sound. 

Chapter members met with the editorial staffs 

of the Spokesman Review and Wenatchee 

World. The chapter participated in a meeting 

with the British Columbia Chapter in Cranbrook. 

Chapter members attended a seminar 

on the Columbia River Treaty in Portland. 

Members sent letters to seven legislators concerning 

the LWCF, federal lands transfers and 

fire funding for the Washington State Department 

of Natural Resources. -Bob Mirasole 

WYOMING 

The Wyoming Chapter has been 

active in recent months in Wyoming. Board 

members have attended several TRW meetings, 

Game and Fish Commission meetings 

and migration initiative meetings. Board 

members are continuing to work on travel 

plan issues on the Shoshone National Forest 

and Medicine Bow National Forest. The entire 

Wyoming board also found time to get 

out in the field hunting this fall, with board 

members having successful bison, elk, deer, 

pronghorn, bighorn sheep and moose hunts. 

Big congratulations to Janet Marschner on 

her first elk! Janet also attended the Wyoming 

Women’s Antelope Hunt, where she taught 

hunter safety prior to the hunt. 

We are working on some issues with public 

access to state lands in Wyoming. WY BHA is 

also hosting a “Taste of the Wild” event Jan. 

30 in Cheyenne. -Buzz Hettick 


Where this 

happens. 

Grips and grins. Loud whoops and 

bent rods. Great friendships and fine 

dining. It’s happening in Missoula, 

and we‘re here to share it with you. 

missoulafishingcompany.com 

406-544-5208 

ACKCOUNTRY HUNTERS & ANGLERS 

Bpresents a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to 

celebrate and protect our most treasured wild places 

Thursday, March 31 st in Missoula, Montana, the day 

before the National Rendezvous begins. 

ENJOY ELEGANT & EXQUISITE FOOD paired 

with the finest wines and prepared by worldrenowned 

chefs and BHA leaders. Four courses of wild 

game and local foods will be served, prepared using 

only camp-cook techniques. 

THIS WILL BE an unforgettable evening and 

it will all take place in the 101-year-old barn 

of the most iconic wilderness outfitter in Montana. 

Smoke Elser has long captivated audiences around 

campfires, and our evening will 

be no different. He has appeared 

in all manner of national 

publications, PBS specials and 

symposiums. 

Smoke, like the Bob Marshall 

Wilderness itself, is a Montana 

treasure. Don’t miss this 

opportunity to experience 

a 5-star meal and be in the 

company of a rockstar outfitter 

and storyteller. 

tack barn dinner 

smoke elser 

march 31 st , 2016 

hunt, gather, cook 

eat d drink 

cocktails start at 6 pm 

OUR CHEFS: 

Hank Shaw is a James Beard Award 

winner. He is world-renowned for 

incorporating wild food into elegant 

presentations. His approaches and 

willingness to teach others have 

created a sensation and spawned 

a dedicated following of hunters, 

gatherers and cooks. Hank is not 

only an award-winning chef at the 

highest levels, but he is a passionate 

local food advocate who is a superstar 

in the culinary world. 

Cholly McGlynn is executive 

chef at the exclusive Vista Verde 

Guest Ranch north of Steamboat 

Springs, CO, where he and his 

team have attained the coveted 

AAA Four Diamond Award, and 

Saveur’s Culinary Travel Award. 

Chol is a BHA life member, Legacy 

Partner and Habitat Watchman for 

Routt National Forest in northwest 

Colorado and is a dedicated fly 

fisherman and elk hunter. When in 

the kitchen, he loves to focus on his 

award-winning artisan breads. 

Ryan Busse is a BHA national board 

member and a passionate amateur 

chef. Standard fare at Busse-catered 

events includes all manner of wild 

fish, game and local produce, most 

of which he personally hunts or 

gathers. Ryan resides in the Flathead 

valley of Montana, and his culinary 

achievements include being labeled 

“restaurant of choice” by a dedicated 

group of friends who jump at the 

opportunity for evening centered 

around a Busse dinner. 

J.R. Young does taxes during the 

day and volunteers for BHA as the 

California Chapter co-chair and 

treasurer. Most of his free time is 

focused on food through gardening, 

preserving, raising chickens, hunting 

and fishing. J.R. and his wife Renee 

enjoy preparing multi-course meals 

of wild game and wine pairings in 

Los Gatos, California. Sharing wild 

game with non-hunters and anglers 

and seeing their curiosity about the 

history, process and adventure of the 

hunt is easy motivation for J.R. to 

prepare the next meal for his friends. 

This is an exclusive event & seating is very limited 

Please purchase your tickets today 

$3004person or $5004couple 

visit: www.rendezvous2016.com | call: 406-926-1908

These Pacs are Made for Walking! 

© KENETREK, LLC 2015 

GRIZZLY PAC BOOTS 

Snow country hunting takes preparation and experience, 

and so does designing a comfortable pac boot that meets the 

rigorous demands of an unforgiving alpine environment. 

These pacs are made for walking! You may be slogging 

through a wet, freezing mess, but your feet will never be 

swimming around in these boots. Along with the all-day 

comfort and waterproof warmth you demand, these 

pacs cradle your feet with the support needed to take 

on sidehills formerly reserved for hiking boots. 

The new standard in active pac wear, they’ll 

open up the entire mountain for you. 

Jim Winjum, Kenetrek Boots 

DON’T JUST TAKE OUR WORD FOR IT ... 

Attached is a photo I got for you on my musk ox hunt last week that just might 

sell a boot or two for you. Both Larry and I wore our Grizzlies and our feet 

stayed warm and dry, even with wind chills well below zero. If your boots 

work on a winter musk ox hunt in Alaska they’ll obviously work for any other 

cold weather hunt in the world. 

Jeff Shannon, Fairbanks AK 

Call today for a free catalog or 

the location of a dealer near you. 

1-800-232-6064 

www.kenetrek.com

Gravelly Range 

The High Divide 

ID 

MT 

Anaconda Range 

Big Hole River 

Butte 

HIGH DIVIDE 

Of Idaho & Montana 

Salmon River 

Frank Church - 

River of No Return 

Wilderness 

Bitterroot Range 

Salmon River 

Salmon 

P i o n e e r R a nge 

Dillon 

Ruby Range 

BY TONI RUTH 

I SAT MOTIONLESS in gritty light and 

brisk morning air. I peered out from the 

timber, poised in anticipation for a bull to 

bugle his gals up the hill for their mid-day 

snooze. My gaze drifted across the sagebrush 

sea, along steep ridges and canyons, 

across the meandering ribbon of the Lemhi 

River in the valley 2,000 feet below, 

before my eyes settled on familiar crags in 

the Beaverhead Range: Freeman Peak, the 

Three Sisters, Sacajawea Peak. 

Anyone who has sought the remote corners 

of this region knows it’s the mother 

of all “stair climbers” – a thigh-burning, 

lung-busting, up and up. But eventually, 

as I did, you arrive at some rocky alpine 

ridge, and then the rewards of this immense 

landscape become apparent. Tantalizing 

saddles, crags and lakes, beckoning 

to be explored. These vast, 5.6 million 

acres make up one of the wildest remaining 

chunks of public land in the Lower 

48. This is the High Divide of Idaho and 

Montana, and it is my home. 

The region encompasses the upper Salmon 

River and Big Hole River watersheds, 

the Beaverhead Range and the Frank 

Church-River of No Return Wilderness. 

It is the homeland of Sacajawea and her 

people, the Agai-Dika or “salmon-eater” 

Shoshone, whose trails and history intertwined 

with the Lewis and Clark expedition 

more than 200 years ago. It supports 

some of the finest hunting, fishing and 

outdoor recreation in North America. 

Pulsing along 425 undammed miles, the 

Salmon River provides cold water to bull 

trout, steelhead and salmon. Pronghorn 

and mule deer still migrate more than 

100 miles here between summer and winter 

ranges. Greater sage grouse are doing 

reasonably well, thanks to some intact expanses 

of sage steppe. 

We can never take for granted the freedom 

to enjoy these millions of acres of 

wild habitat and the wildlife they support. 

Public lands comprise much of the High 

Divide, and we are free to roam and enjoy 

them because they belong to all of us. 

But like many public lands in the West, 

the High Divide faces a number of threats, 

small and large. 

THESE VAST, 5.6 MILLION 

ACRES MAKE UP ONE OF 

THE WILDEST REMAINING 

CHUNKS OF PUBLIC LAND 

IN THE LOWER 48. 

I saw the former first hand on day five 

of my elk hunt. We hunt in an area that is 

closed to motorized vehicle use, offering a 

level of solitude that helped me get within 

50 yards of a bull after a two-and-a-halfhour 

stalk. As I drew near my opening, 

shots rang out below me. A stampede of 

60 elk sped through the sage then vanished, 

taking any opportunity at a kill with 

them. I later learned from my husband, 

who was scanning for elk below me, that 

another hunter had driven up on his ATV, 

shot a bull, hooked it to his machine and 

drove off without gutting or dressing the 

animal, all in flagrant violation of protections 

that are in place to help keep wildlife 

populations healthy. 

That same kind of irresponsibility is 

apparent on a broader level, as evidenced 

by the increasing pitch of arguments from 

those who would privatize or transfer ownership 

of the national forests that belong 

to all of us – a bad deal for anyone who 

enjoys the outdoors. 

From isolated instances to sweeping 

policy, problems like these need to be addressed. 

It is incumbent on anyone who 

cares about the High Divide to get involved 

in finding solutions. Those who 

show up and speak up will determine the 

future of the region. This is one of the reasons 

I am so honored to part of Backcountry 

Hunters & Anglers. Our members are 

working locally and collaboratively to sustain 

habitat, wildlife, fish and clean water. 

I’ve spent 25 years as a wildlife researcher 

tracking cougars across the West and 

the past year working as the High Divide 

coordinator for BHA. The intense reward 

I reap from being outdoors stirs a need to 

protect what is out my back door. My introverted 

nature does not make that easy, 

but learning from other passionate locals, 

BHA members and other groups has 

strengthened my resolve. 

As the High Divide coordinator, I get to 

work with my neighbors to make sure local 

wisdom and the latest science help con- 

Jared Lampton photo 

Map created by Erich Gnewikow 

Sawtooth 

Range 

Redfish 

Lake 

MF Salmon River 

Stanley 

East Salmon River Range 

Salmon River 

serve this corner of Idaho and Montana for 

future generations to enjoy. We work hard 

to maintain the natural values that make 

the High Divide so special by protecting 

and improving core habitat, riparian areas, 

migratory routes and sage steppe. The 

Salmon-Challis Forest Service and BLM 

management plans for the region, both 

almost 30 years old, will soon be revised. 

This sets the stage for a once-in-a-lifetime 

opportunity that may govern land management 

across boundaries and at a landscape 

scale into 2045. But our efforts span 

both private and public lands. We’ll work 

with anyone whose goal is to ensure the 

ongoing health of our fish and wildlife. 

In the end, my bull tag remained unpunched, 

and, at the moment, our freezer 

remains empty. But the experience, time 

Challis 

Boulder Range 

Pahsimeroi River 

Big Lost River 

Pioneer Range 

Lemhi River 

Lemhi Range 

Lost River Range 

Beaverhead Range 

Leadore 

with my husband and solitude of this 

year’s hunt afforded me the opportunity to 

reflect on the challenges ahead. Time afield 

reinforced my desire to represent BHA and 

be a local voice for this landscape’s future. 

It is difficult to imagine a place worthier 

of the effort. 

Blacktail Range 

Idaho 

Snowcrest 

Range 

Centennial 

Range 

Montana 

HOW CAN YOU HELP? 

• Get involved with ID and MT BHA 

boots-on-the-ground chapters. You can 

help organize and participate in fence 

removal parties, habitat improvement 

projects and habitat monitoring. 

• Share your knowledge of the land. 

Come to public forum discussions 

with the BLM, Forest Service and state 

wildlife agencies. Contact your state 

legislators to support wildlife habitat 

and public lands protection and denounce 

bad ideas that could impact 

our outdoor heritage. 

• Be BHA’s eyes and ears. Report poachers, 

illegal OHV and drone use, and 

help spread the word about BHA’s illegal 

OHV reward program.

HIGH DIVIDE 

Ripple Effects 

Sam Lungren photo 

BY TERRY MYERS 

IN THE BEGINNING, it was bologna 

sandwiches, sunburns, stoneflies, the 

funky smell of army surplus rubber and, 

of course, the fish. They were beautiful 

browns, feisty rainbows and sometimes a 

mysterious grayling. Many summer afternoons 

my dad would captain a WWII vintage 

raft and his five small children armed 

with fly rods down the windy, willow 

lined, bug infested, home waters in Montana. 

These are my earliest memories of 

“river.” Traveling from point A to point B 

on an oared raft propelled by current was 

a concept I connected with at a tender age. 

My teen years found me in the wilderness 

reach of Idaho’s Salmon River, 

working at a backcountry ranch. That job 

ushered me into a life of outfitting and 

guiding in this raw-boned country I have 

called home for the last 40 years. 

The heart of the Salmon River is contained 

in the expansive Frank Church- 

River of No Return Wilderness. Her 

waters host anadromous species such as 

Chinook, sockeye and steelhead. Her canyons 

are home to bighorn sheep, moose, 

elk, deer, mountain lions and wolves. The 

dramatically steep and rocky hillsides have 

armored her from much of the development 

that defines other Western rivers. 

“Gentle” is not an adjective that one 

would use to describe this country. At 

times the river flows through a near-vertical 

and inaccessible landscape. Like a fickle 

tempest, she is one minute seething, the 

next minute smooth and relaxed. She can 

be a formidable presence, and to know her 

well requires you to work hard, pay attention 

to her subtle riddles and act with respect, 

always respect. She is not prejudicial 

when handing out harsh lessons. Ah, but 

that’s why we love her! 

Guiding wilderness rafting trips brought 

me to the Salmon as a young woman. Now 

it is her steelhead that capture my free time 

and my dreams. Steelhead are the hardearned 

perk from the years spent pursuing 

the river’s secrets. I obsess about this 

creature that has survived a 1,500-mile 

migration through a gauntlet of obstacles 

and has spent months cruising the limitless 

undulations of the Pacific. Perhaps it 

was born years earlier on the small creek 

next to my house, the one I hear rippling 

at night. Hooking one of these massive 

rainbow trout relies not only on a tiny fly 

swimming through a mighty current but a 

hundred other variables. How is it possible? 

Because of an optimistic imagination 

and, just as importantly, because of magic. 

Zane Grey summed it up well when 

he said, “If I fished only to capture fish, 

my fishing trips would have ended long 

ago.” I have friends that are bemused and 

bewildered by my steelhead infatuation. 

When attempting to explain this affliction 

I end up reliving fishing adventures; not 

about the size of a steelhead or the number 

caught, but snippets of witnessing the 

wild. That time when I was loitering in 

the bottom of a run just before sunrise, 

listening to elk bugle above me while a 

white veil of morning fog lifted away. Or 

the time a large willow branch was cruising 

up current toward me, propelled by a 

beaver who was surprised either because I 

was in his path or perhaps that I had refused 

to work as hard as he had that day. 

Or the oddly indifferent heron across the 

run from me, focused like a cobra and still 

as a statue until it suddenly struck a large 

lamprey eel. Rich moments like these are 

revealed to those patient enough to spend 

their time standing, waiting, watching. At 

times I feel like I am the lone, honorary 

audience for an intimate play performed 

in the real but secretive world of the river. 

Unlike Zane, whose love life was a little 

messy, I have been privileged to share this 

lifelong love of the river and the quest for 

steelhead with my spouse. Our connection 

was born on her shores as young guides, 

what feels like a lifetime ago. We still 

share these same joys whether we are casting 

in our home water five minutes from 

the house or miles away rafting through 

the wilderness. Our commitment to each 

other extends to the river, whether its rolling 

up our sleeves to improve habitat or 

tackling tough issues that continually lean 

against this place we love. This we can offer 

for the opportunity to drift her waters, 

hike her slopes, or hook her fish. 

Now, when I see my adult daughter 

in waders, packing her 1 year old on her 

back, Spey rod in hand, or I see our son 

with his toddlers loaded in a raft for a sixday 

wilderness trip, I realize that the river’s 

current runs deep in our family. I’ve 

heard people say that a place becomes a 

part of you. I know this to be true in the 

most literal sense. The Salmon River canyon 

has fed our family with her wild game 

and fish. With varying degrees of success, 

I coax a garden and an orchard from the 

canyon’s rocky soils. Our drinking water 

comes from a small but resilient spring. 

These things nourish my physical being. 

The Salmon’s molecules become my molecules 

and someday my ashes will return to 

her. But it is the wildness, the beauty and 

openness, the sounds and smells, the starry 

night sky, the stillness here, that sustain 

my soul. 

“Find your place on the planet. Dig in, 

and take responsibility from there.” 

-Gary Snyder 

Terry (above, with a native Salmon River 

steelhead) and her husband Jerry (upper left, 

casting) owned and operated a wilderness 

rafting and fishing company for 25 years. 

They volunteer on numerous non-profit efforts 

and are members of Trout Unlimited 

and BHA. In 2015, Terry fulfilled a lifelong 

dream of fly fishing for steelhead in a different 

river each month of the year. 

26 | BACKCOUNTRY JOURNAL WINTER 2016 WINTER 2016 BACKCOUNTRY JOURNAL | 27

HIGH DIVIDE 

Trail-less 

Mountains 


BY CHAD FEALKO 

THREE HOURS BEFORE DAWN on 

opening morning of archery season found 

me driving up the rugged and arid Lemhi 

River drainage. This particular mountain 

canyon, like most here, harbors just one 

road tucked tightly between the narrow 

stream’s bank and the steep canyon wall. 

A couple miles back, I passed two large 

hunting camps. Every year they circle their 

modern RV wagons to safeguard giant fire 

rings and expensive ATVs. More fraternal 

than my own style, but I smiled as I passed. 

In three years of tramping this mountain I 

have yet to see one of these hunters’ boots 

or tires track up the backcountry trails. As 

I hurried up the canyon, coffee shot out 

my cup lid as the pickup failed to avoid a 

large rock. More abstract art for the ceiling. 

I parked the pickup in a non-descript 

pullout, halfway up the valley. 

I shouldered my three-day pack, flipped 

on my headlamp, and strode toward the 

creek. Kaleidoscopes of light shot from 

balls of ice entombing alder branches 

where I crossed the stream. Geez, I 

thought, it’s still August. 

After a few short steps, I left the frosted 

floodplain and starting the trail-less ascent 

to a saddle some 800 vertical feet above. 

At the saddle I let sweat dry and shivered 

as I listened for elk. Amber glow slowly 

replaced black sky. I glassed the narrow 

meadow below. Paying the mountain with 

another quick climb bought me the season’s 

first bugle. Short and squeaky, but a 

bull nonetheless. 

With no choice but taking the rising sun 

in my eyes, I set up on the ridge and sent a 

soft cow call up the hill. Silently, magically, 

as they often do, the bull appeared in the 

timber just 60 yards ahead. He wasn’t big, 

but I’ve never been picky with my longbow. 

Finding this bull much closer to the 

truck than I typically kill elk had me giddy. 

I gave one more mew and he nodded his 

head my way and kept walking. 

The bull stopped under a beetle-killed 

pine, eyeing the timber beyond. Slowly 

reaching full draw, I sent my arrow on a 

perfect arc across 20 yards of sage – quickly 

wishing it had been 22 yards! The arrow 

flew harmlessly over the elk’s back, as he 

scrambled back to timber’s safety. 

Laughing at myself, I found the clean 

arrow and strode further up the mountain, 

now ablaze in August sun. 

I quietly hunted through meadows scattered 

along the stream near the head of the 

valley. Small, native Westslope cutthroat 

trout finned lazily in each tiny pool, their 

intense colors reflecting the beauty of this 

remote landscape. Downstream barriers 

have prevented these fish from migrating 

to and from the Lemhi River for about a 

hundred years. The continued presence of 

these fish in this tiny stream, despite constant 

exposure to harsh conditions at more 

than 9,000 feet, inspires me. In a way, I 

hunt here to see them, to know what remains 

possible in wild lands. 

Although each meadow held a wallow, 

bulls didn’t seem to be using them much 

yet. Scarce or old sign makes me cover 

more ground, sometimes faster than I 

should. 

I was soon walking among, and often 

on, trunks of windblown lodgepole pines 

along the flat of a high ridge. Although I 

knew to slow down, my impatience got 

the best of me. Suddenly I heard hooves 

pounding against the rocks and logs. A 

fleeting glimpse of antler and flashes of 

hide were all I was offered. 

Camp consisted of an ultralight tent 

pitched tightly on the narrow crest of a 

trailing ridge among pointy rocks and 

lightning-struck trees. I glassed until dark 

and watched a cow and calf moose, seven 

pairs of cow and calf elk two drainages 

over, and the Continental Divide showered 

in streaks of light from the setting 

sun. A single bugle woke me sometime in 

the night, making for difficult sleep but an 

easy rise. 

Try as I might to locate him, the nighttime 

bugler would not respond. While 

crossing a small sage meadow that I should 

have navigated around, I looked downhill 

to see a good bull staring me down 

from 100 yards. Our eyes locked before 

he barked loudly and quickly disappeared. 

Knowing I had blown it, I trudged 

downslope, cursing my impatience. 

After a while, the sound of birds caught 

my ear, and I ambled in their general direction. 

Several ravens flew to and from 

the lone dead tree at the middle of a small 

sage meadow. At 80 yards I saw something 

larger moving near the base of the tree. 

Coyote was my first thought, as I caught 

the wind and a promising angle. At 60 

yards, the animal grew a three-foot-long, 

whip-like tail. Cougar! 

The lion was busy digging in the duff 

and moving back and forth in a tight radius. 

I had a cougar tag in my pocket but 

wasn’t sure if the season was open. I decided 

to creep in, just to see what might 

happen. How often does one find himself 

so close to a large predator without them 

knowing it? 

I nocked an arrow, foolishly believing it 

could defend a charge, and stalked closer. 

My approach was easy given the cat’s preoccupation. 

At 30 yards I could see it was 

caching an elk killed the night before. At 

20 yards I hesitated, feeling uncomfortable 

to push this any further. As if on cue, with 

paws planted solid on a hard-earned meal, 

the tom lifted his square head and stared 

directly at me. His tail slowly swayed side 

to side as my palms sweated. After a 30 

second stare-down, he simply leapt to the 

side and disappeared. 

I sat down, shivers taking control of my 

body, and took it all in. As I tried to absorb 

the experience, a wolf’s deep, throaty howl 

punctuated the late morning stillness. The 

call let his pack, the cougar, maybe even 

me, know that there is stiff competition for 

meals on this mountain. Smiling, I took 

up the challenge and kept hiking. 

Days like this, on mountains like this, 

feed my fire. As I hunted, my thoughts 

drifted to those hunters at the large camps 

down in the valley. For them, most of the 

mountain likely remained hidden, invisible 

from creek bottom two-track. They may 

enjoy their motorized pursuit as much as 

I love my own style, but I sometimes wish 

they find something more. I hope they 

learn to earn the gifts provided only by a 

trail-less mountain side. The High Divide 

has such gifts in spades. 

Chad (above, with a longbow-killed bull 

elk) is a fisheries biologist for the National 

Marine Fisheries Service in Salmon, Idaho. 

For the past 12 years he has worked to protect 

and recover central Idaho’s ESA-listed salmon 

and steelhead. He has been a BHA member 

since 2010. 


HIGH DIVIDE 

Salmon in the Salmon 

BY MADISON DAPCEVICH 

TUCKED IN THE RUGGEDLY beautiful 

Sawtooth Range of Central Idaho, Redfish 

Lake was named for its once-remarkable 

population of sockeye, or red salmon, 

which traveled 900 miles to and from the 

Pacific Ocean in such numbers to turn the 

lake red. 

The longest sockeye salmon run in the 

world ended in the fall at this pristine, 

high mountain spawning pool. In 1991, 

only one sockeye returned. So-named 

“Lonesome Larry” initiated the listing of 

the Snake River sockeye salmon under 

the Endangered Species Act and sparked 

unprecedented conservation efforts in the 

High Divide region. 

“You hear stories everywhere – what 

used to be, what we used to do,” said Chad 

Fealko, fisheries biologist for NOAA’s National 

Marine Fisheries Service. “You used 

to be able to pitchfork salmon out of Redfish 

Lake. Cowboys joked about riding 

them when they were kids.” 

Idaho’s Anadromous Fish Conservation 

Before the turn of the 20 th century, an 

estimated 150,000 sockeye salmon returned 

annually to five Sawtooth Valley 

lakes (Redfish, Alturas, Pettit, Stanley and 

Yellowbelly) after completing their trip to 

the ocean. Today, the species remains at 

risk of extinction, as do the Chinook salmon 

and steelhead trout that also return to 

the headwaters of the Salmon River via the 

Columbia and Snake rivers. 

In 2014, nearly 1,600 sockeye returned 

to the Sawtooth Valley. In 2015, only 25 

returned. Extreme warm temperatures in 

the stagnant Columbia killed 90 percent 

of the Idaho sockeye before they even 

reached the Snake River, NOAA estimates. 

The recent trend of hotter summers and 

less snowpack means trouble for the region’s 

coldwater fish species. The Salmon 

River Basin experienced an unprecedented 

drought last summer that left rivers lower 

and warmer than normal. Changes in 

climate have profound implications for 

the survival of the Snake River sockeye 

salmon population in both freshwater and 

marine habitats. This complicates recovery 

efforts despite progress made over the last 

25 years. 

“When we look to the future, we’re facing 

climate change, its unknown impact 

and how fish respond to it,” said Fealko. 

He remains cautiously optimistic as the 

sockeye are still on “life support.” 

By the time the Snake River sockeye 

salmon was listed under the ESA in 1991, 

habitat degradation, poor hydropower operation, 

tributary blockages, over-fishing 

and chemical treatment of the Sawtooth 

Valley had decimated the Redfish Lake 

population. 

Shortly thereafter, a partnership of state, 

tribal and federal fish managers initiated a 

captive broodstock hatchery program to 

save the Redfish Lake sockeye population. 

Results were mixed, and many people attribute 

the recent uptick in sockeye returns 

to improved water releases at the Columbia 

and Snake river dams, as mandated by 

a federal judge in 2005. Although not as 

grim as 1991, these fish remain at a high 


risk of extinction. 

“Sockeye salmon have tremendous cultural 

importance,” said Rosemary Furfey, 

Salmon recovery coordinator for the 

NOAA Interior Columbia Area Office. 

“[They] are really an icon of the Pacific 

Northwest. These species have so many 

ecological, social, culture and environmental 

benefits.” 

In 1992, the Northwest Power Planning 

Council, an advisory board to the Bonneville 

Power Administration, initiated what 

is now the Upper Salmon Basin Watershed 

Project (USBWP) to improve salmon 

and steelhead habitat along the main and 

tributary streams of the Salmon River. A 

year later, the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation 

sought volunteer landowners to participate 

in various efforts across the region in an effort 

to restore the watershed. Since 2005, 

the Lemhi Regional Land Trust has protected 

40 miles of stream habitat through 

conservation easements. Assuming full administrative 

responsibility of the USBWP 

in 2010, the Idaho Governor’s Office of 

Species Conservation (OSC) has continued 

to collaborate with federal, state, tribal 

and private partners on projects to restore 

the habitat and protect the salmon species. 

Most of this funding is allotted from state 

and federal fish habitat restoration funds. 

“If we no longer had salmon swimming 

by in Salmon, Idaho – our namesake – a 

large chunk of our identity is gone and it 

becomes just a story passed down. That is 

unimaginable,” said Fealko. Just as the fish 

represent ecological and social threads woven 

throughout a culture, Fealko says that 

intertwining connection between landowners, 

recreationists, tribes and governmental 

bodies is essential to the successful 

preservation of the species. 

Daniel Bertram, project coordinator 

for the Upper Salmon Basin Watershed 

Program under OSC, reiterates the importance 

of cross-organizational collaboration. 

Nearly 90 percent of salmon spawning 

occurs on private land in the Salmon 

River Basin, much of it ranchland, he said. 

“Grassroots movements got everything 

moving and proved that local ranchers 

care. They want to see the local species recover,” 

said Bertram. 

Voluntary projects, such as efficient water 

diversion in the basin, not only benefit 

the fish species; they also help the agricultural 

producers by reconnecting previously 

disconnected water tributaries. When the 

project started, only one of the 20 Upper 

Salmon River tributaries were accessible to 

migrating fish. Today, seven are connected, 

making more spawning locations available 

to Chinook and steelhead. 

“When everything is voluntary, it emphasizes 

the need for a good relationship 

with cattle and fish,” said Bertram. “[This 

project] proves that the two can coexist 

and we don’t have to pick one. The cattle 

ranching community is pivotal in the conservation 

effort.” 

The headwaters of the Salmon River 

offer a unique refuge. The high elevation 

provides natural resiliency to warming 

temperatures, and projections indicate the 

area will sustain suitable coldwater habitat 

for thermally sensitive species such as 

salmon, steelhead and bull trout for the 

next 60 years. According to Fealko, these 

areas will become critical in long-term 

protection. 

“We are improving key components 

that are helping the streams function more 

naturally,” said Matthew Green, the Upper 

Salmon project manager for Trout Unlimited 

in Salmon, Idaho. “We are doing what 

we can in our area to set up good spawning 

and rearing habitat in the hopes that everyone 

else is doing their part to improve 

their areas. Eventually together we will get 

to some form of recovery.” 

It will take many years, if not decades, 

to improve conditions and recover the 

species, but Furfey is hopeful. “I can’t emphasize 

how important that is, because you 

need people on the ground, like members 

of Backcountry Hunters & Anglers, who 

appreciate natural conditions,” she said. 

Improvements in hatchery practices and 

harvest fisheries, continued habitat restoration, 

efficiencies in agricultural practices 

and irrigation management as well as reconnected 

tributaries show that the grassroots 

efforts are making progress. 

“Conveying land ethic into river conservation 

is the challenge I wake up to every 

day,” said Fealko. “It starts with the kids 

– education and exposure are so critical. 

The more people are outside enjoying and 

understanding how these processes work, 

the more they will recognize how we can 

positively influence the life histories of 

these fish. Doesn’t everyone feel that way?” 

Madison (above) is a graduate journalism 

student at the University of Montana and 

the Backcountry Journal intern at BHA 

headquarters. Originally from Sitka, Alaska, 

she loves to fish, snowboard and do yoga. 


Everglades National Park 

“If the devil ever raised a garden, the Everglades was it.” 

-James Carlos Blake, Red Grass River: A Legend 

Tim Romano photo 

BY BRANDON SHULER 

THE FIRST STING was on the back of 

my ear. I flipped a finger across my earlobe 

and it came away with a dime-sized flash 

of red punctuated by a sprawled mosquito 

carcass. Gibson’s smile broadened. It was if 

that one slap awakened the horde. My legs, 

in shorts of course, were black and covered 

with mosquitos from mom-sized to grandpa-gargantuan, 

steal-your-baby monolithic 

proportions. They all decided to bite at 

once, while those that couldn’t find a bare 

spot on my arms or legs tried to find solace 

in my nose and ears. 

As I fumbled with my gear and the 

canoe, Gibson finally stepped out of the 

truck, covered in clothes, spraying his face 

with bug repellent. “The big swarms don’t 

come out till right before sunset,” he said 

tossing me a sweatshirt. “Sweat beats the 

hell out of those monsters.” 

With my legs already an inhuman shade 

of red, I wrestled with my gear and the 

canoe, dragging both to get on the water 

where the breeze would limit some of the 

squadrons of sting. As Gibson worked his 

way back from the truck to the canoe, the 

good-natured ribbing our relationship is 

built upon continued. He yelled over the 

distance, as I waded waist deep in the water 

to evade the mosquitos. 

“You know,” he said, “The Indians and 

early settlers would cover themselves in 

gator fat or mud to keep the mosquitos 

off them.” He nodded toward the dark 

pluff mud along the shoreline. I almost 

took him up on it. “Also,” he continued, 

“Them gators have a tougher bite than the 

skeeters.” He looked right, just as a healthy 

nine-footer slid under the water. 

Hightailing it out of the water with just 

enough nonchalance to save face, I slid 

into the canoe. “Yeah, buddy, but today 

we have better living through chemistry,” I 

said, as I wrested the bug spray from him, 

covering my legs and face in its acrid mist. 

BEFORE MY PROFESSIONAL LIFE 

moved me east to Florida, I had spent exactly 

three days in the Everglades. I was 

maybe 10 or 12, that magical time where 

the long past is yesterday and the distant 

future is tomorrow or maybe next baseball 

season. At the time, I can’t say I was 

too impressed. I grew up in South Texas 

on a roughly shared latitude with Florida’s 

Interstate 75 Alligator Alley, which splits 

the upper Everglades from the lower. From 

where I sat way back when, Florida Bay’s 

sweeping seagrass beds looked like home 

on the King Ranch shoreline of Texas’s 

Laguna Madre. It was a couple of decades 

before those impressions changed and solidified 

into a burning desire to get lost in 

the Glades’ backwaters that were nothing 

like the comparably tame Texas coast. 

Flash forward a couple of decades: 

studying for Ph.D. comprehensive exams, 

I found myself reading Peter Matthiessen’s 

Shadow Country, a rewritten collection of 

his Edgar Watson novels: Killing Mr. Watson, 

Lost Man’s River and Bone by Bone. 

Edgar Watson is one of those mythical 

men that literary types call an antihero, a 

man that could only be forged in the vast 

wildness of the tannin-stained tidewaters 

of the Everglades. His character’s flaws and 

contradictions are just like those of the 

Everglades: the good, kind and bountiful 

juxtaposed with the evil, harsh and barren. 

The historical Edgar Watson is credited 

with pioneering the Everglades, bringing 

frontier faith, six-gun justice, education 

and sugar to the region. Some argue every 

strain of sugar in Florida arises from 

Watson’s Chatham Bend plantation. He 

also brought with him violence and death. 

Watson’s reasons for moving to the Glades 

are as shrouded in mystery as whether the 

Everglades Seminole tribe is still at war 

with the Union. Allegedly he shot Oklahoma’s 

darling, Belle Starr, in the back, 

necessitating his escape to Florida’s version 

of the Wild West. More murder charges 

seemed to arise wherever he went. 

Watson’s diametric personalities – the 

New Testament Good mixed with Old 

Testament Evil – personify this area. The 

Everglades, in all its beauty, is itself a contradiction. 

Once a magnificent river that 

recharged Florida’s aquifers and fed the 

vast seagrass beds of Biscayne Bay, Florida 

Bay and the Indian River Lagoon, it’s 

now mostly a standing bog thanks to water 

diversions for Watson’s sugarcane-growing 

contemporaries. It’s remote enough that 

military special forces use the Glades as an 

outpost to train operators in survival, evasion, 

resistance and escape techniques. It’s 

also near enough that white-collared weekend 

warriors from Miami in $600 snake 

boots can dive into the woods searching 

for pythons, while honking their car horns 

from key fobs so they don’t get lost. 

With inspiring areas like Hells Bay, 

Flamingo, Ten Thousand Islands, Florida 

Bay, Chokoloskee, Fisheating Creek and 

Chatham Bend, Everglades National Park 

is as diverse as it is unique. Originally 

designated in 1934, the national park 

has grown to cover 1.5 million acres of 

southwestern mainland Florida, making 

it the third largest national park in the 

country. Eighty-six percent of that area 

was designated as a wilderness area in 

1978 – the largest wilderness east of the 

Mississippi. Though water diversions took 

their toll, the Everglades ecosystem might 

have disappeared entirely without federal 

protection. Contemporary proposals 

called for draining the Glades to make way

for agriculture. Thanks to conservationists 

like Ernest F. Coe, Everglades National 

Park has remained a backcountry-off-thebeaten-path 

that begs for immersion in its 

tea-colored backwaters. That is, if you’re 

willing to pay the blood sacrifice. 

RECALLING MY PRETEEN DAYS, as 

I made my way south from the asphalt of 

St. Petersburg, I remembered when Naples, 

kind of the western gateway to the 

Everglades, was merely a couple of small 

stores on the Tamiami Trail, or old Florida 

41. Today, it’s a drive down Interstate 75. 

There’s a tollbooth on 75 now, a gateway 

that leaves civilization behind and ushers 

in wildness ahead. It’s at this tollbooth 

where workday life and the noise of motors 

give way to the sounds of cicadas, 

crickets, frogs, red-tailed hawks, bald eagles 

and the whumps of bull gators. It’s 

where the constraints of civilization give 

way to the feralness of human nature. It’s 

where I want to be. 

I met my good friend Terry Gibson, a 

descendant of a South Florida pioneer 

family, on a side road. Terry sat in his truck 

with the windows up. I got out and began 

unloading cameras and fishing equipment 

as he smiled out at me. He cracked 

the window and yelled, “While you’re out 

there, want to unstrap the canoe?” He 

rolled the window up before I could yell 

sure. 

Then the first sting came, on the back of 

my ear. We loaded the canoes as quickly as 

the insect torment would allow, then followed 

the huge gator into the tannic water. 

Paddling into a canopy of cypress, within 

a hundred yards the trucks were gone. 

The Everglades had swallowed us. We paddled 

for two hours, turning down canals 

and marls of marsh grass. At every turn, 

the eyes of local alligators watched us with 

a confident disregard. 

As we fished, we talked of Edgar Watson, 

the Seminoles, the endangered Florida 

panther, and invasive species like pythons 

after we saw one frozen motionless 

on the bank, the sun reflecting dull off its 

green back. Gibson’s connection to the 

place made it all the more personal for me. 

After yanking his fifth oscar out of the 

marsh grass, Gibson laughed, “Need a 

bigger bait to get away from these little 

buggers.” Familiar with the garden variety 

two-pound oscar, I had to admit to myself 

I was quite impressed with the five- and 

six-pounders we were finding under the 

hanging cypresses. “Folk released these 

from their aquariums years ago, along with 

a few peacock bass in the canals,” Gibson 

said with something between a grin and a 

grimace. “And they’ve taken root. They’re 

pushing out the indigenous fish, but we 

have a better weapon.” 

Cutting away his red and white-skirted 

spinnerbait, Gibson dug around his boat 

bag and pulled out a silver-blue Heddon 

Super Spook and tied it on. He cinched 

the knot and bit into the 20-pound braided 

line. He ground his teeth back and 

forth with a sound that made me envision 

sparks. Finally, the braid parted. 

Gibson winged a cast down the length 

of the canal to an intersect of marsh grass 

and moving water. 

“You know,” he said, “I went to a new 

dentist last week and he asked me if I was a 

fisherman. Know what he said?” 

Gibson worked the topwater down the 

grass line, popping the rod tip subtly so 

the lure rocked back and forth like a metronome; 

walking the dog. The marsh grass 

next to the Spook swayed without wind. 

Gibson slowed the walk and spoke in a 

whisper. 

“‘I can always tell a fisherman by the 

flats of his canines,’” Gibson popped the 

lure and the grass shook, the water exploding 

in a frenzy of green. “Largemouth!” 

he yelled. 

As he brought the bass in and I readied 

the net, I couldn’t help but notice the 

depth and darkness of the fish’s scales. I 

grew up in Texas calling largemouth “black 

bass,” but this tannin-infused fish was truly 

black, beautiful to the point of distraction. 

Wiping the sweat from his head, Gibson 

grinned. “Purty, ain’t they?” he asked, 

affecting his most Southern backwoods 

drawl. As we arranged the canoe for the 

long paddle home, a distinct liquid plop 

rippled outward from the concentric circles 

the GPS left in the water, as its glowing 

face flickered and sunk from view into 

the Glades’ dark waters. “Damn,” Gibson 

said. 

Gibson and I have a penchant for relying 

on each other to make sure we are safe 

in the wild. With decades of backcountry 

experience and open-ocean chops, there 

are few situations that could shake us. But, 

as with any adventure into the wild, any 

number of things can still go wrong. 

Gibson slid my paddle toward me with 

his foot, the wood rattling hollow against 

the canoe’s aluminum ribs. “Looks like we 

have to dead reckon, partner.” 

Grasping the paddle and feeling its solid 

bite into the Glades’ lifeblood water, I 

hauled back and set a course into a labyrinth 

of cypress that all looked the same. 

After an hour of paddling in silence and 

the growing dark, Gibson and I paused, 

our inertia gliding us forward. “How you 

doing up there, Shuler?” Gibson asked, 

crossing the paddle across his lap. “Given 

enough blood?” 

“I reckon,” I said, slapping a skeeter. 

“Too bad, ’cause we’re pretty lost and 

you’re about to give a lot more.” 

As the sun tilted past setting, the swarms 

intensified. Their infernal buzz filled my 

ears, but if I stuck my mouth and nose in 

my shirt they’d disappear temporarily. We 

laid down in the canoe and ate summer 

sausage and cheese on soda crackers, my 

favorite meal, especially under a growing 

canopy of stars. 

“Are we spending the night?” I asked 

hopefully, fully lost in the moment and 

preferring the sound of frogs to those of 

banging hotel doors. 

“Nah, just give it a bit,” Gibson said. 

We sat this way for a couple of hours, 

dozing between casts, chatting between 

guzzles of beer. If he’s not worried, I’m not 

worried, I thought. 

THE EVERGLADES SPORT fisheries 

generate over $7.6 billion dollars annually. 

Most of this economic engine is driven 

downstream in Florida Bay, a critical ecosystem 

between mainland Florida and the 

Florida Keys. Since diversions in the ’40s 

through ’70s to supply water to growing 

populations and the burgeoning sugar industry, 

salinity levels in Florida Bay have 

increased to double that of the open ocean, 

killing large swaths of seagrass and inducing 

large die-offs of mullet, speckled trout 

and other game species. The situation has 

become dire enough that a World Heritage 

Committee listed Everglades National 

Park on the list of World Heritage Sites in 

Danger. 

Conditions today are reminiscent of 

the late 1980s, when a combination of super-salty 

water and late-summer drought 

led to a massive grass die-off and a resulting 

algal bloom that decimated hundreds 

of square miles of Florida Bay’s grassy 

meadows and their inhabitants. The sport 

fishing economy took a major hit. The ecological 

toll was staggering. Many veteran 

anglers and guides say the fishing and the 

habitat has not been the same since. Some 

of this can be attributed to water diversion, 

some to environmental conditions. Last 

year was one of the driest winters Florida 

has experienced since the 1980s, and water 

diversions are not helping the situation. 

“The Bay is always on a kind of knife’s 

edge,” says Dr. Thomas van Lent, director 

of science and policy for the Everglades 

Foundation. “The single biggest input in 

the late dry season was this flow from Everglades, 

and it’s gone.” 

Florida Bay is at the mercy of rainfall 

and climate change because we cut off its 

headwaters. Changing environmental conditions 

will likely lead to the displacement 

of sport fish and bait fish, breaking the 

food chain in this fragile ecosystem. 

“This has happened in the past in Florida 

Bay during dry times, and is mainly 

weather-related,” Everglades National Park 

Superintendent Pedro Ramos said. “We 

need increased water deliveries to the park 

through the Comprehensive Everglades 

Restoration Plan.” 

Over a decade ago, the National Park 

Service took the lead on a push for largescale 

water projects to deliver water to 

Florida Bay and the Everglades, most notably 

the Modified Water Deliveries project, 

the raising and bridging of what will 

eventually be over 6.5 miles of U.S. 41 

Tamiami Trail to convey more Everglades 

water to Florida Bay. A one-mile section is 

finished. That’s an encouraging start, but 

more needs to be done to make sure there’s 

water to send under those bridges from 

upstream. 

We must address the fact that the fresh 

water needed in the Everglades National 

Park and Florida Bay is wasted year after 

year, shunted from Lake Okeechobee to 

the coasts. The Army Corps of Engineers 

and South Florida Water Management 

District routinely dump hundreds of billions 

of gallons of fresh water into the sea. 

The water Florida Bay needs is available 

– lots of it – though it often sluices west 

into the St. Lucie River, destroying the Indian 

River Lagoon, as well as fisheries near 

the Caloosahatchee River watershed. This 

wasteful practice will likely be the death 

knell for three world-class fisheries and the 

economies they support. 

We must demand that Everglades restoration 

be accelerated to increase water 

to Florida Bay and protect the northern 

estuaries. Full funding of projects underway 

and completion of the Modified Water 

Deliveries Project, authorization of the 

Central Everglades Planning Project (that 

will store, clean and convey water south), 

and solving the water storage problem are 

key priorities to directly benefit the Bay 

and the Glades. 

These programs are necessary to keep the 

Everglades’ contradictions and complexities 

intact and healthy, for it is these very 

things that call us to the Glades’ shores to 

make our blood sacrifices. 

“THERE IT IS,” Gibson said. 

I couldn’t see him, but I could see the 

dripping paddle he pointed over my shoulder. 

Like a phoenix burning the horizon, 

the urban glow of Miami’s light pollution 

shone through the darkness. Paddling 

through the night, we got back to the 

trucks in the small hours of the morning. 

The hum from Alligator Alley was muted, 

and only the sound of an occasional semi 

penetrated through the Everglades’ natural 

symphony. Climbing into sleeping bags, 

Gibson and I talked about how it must 

have been in Edgar Watson’s days. The 

wildness. The beauty. The splendor. The 

natural flow and the nexuses of all waters 

that were disrupted by human intervention. 

“We have work to do to protect what 

we have now,” Gibson said, sliding into a 

snore. 

I closed my eyes and listened to the 

world outside thinking yeah, we do. 

The Everglades is a border region where 

inspiration and frustration are kin; where 

urban sprawl butts against pure wilderness; 

where a wrong turn, misread gas 

gauge or lost GPS could mean never being 

seen again; where dreams are made and 

nightmares are born. Right between heaven 

and hell, where Edgar Watson and the 

devil built their garden hedgerows to keep 

the angels out. But the Everglades still 

welcomes us to return to a time in Florida 

when wildness was the norm, not the triviality 

and safety of human invention. 

Dr. Brandon D. Shuler is a constituent 

outreach specialist for the Ocean Conservancy 

and a BHA member. He is seventh generation 

Texan, third-generation fisherman, and 

finds himself displaced in Florida chasing 

snook and tarpon. His book Glory of the Silver 

King: The Golden Age of Tarpon Fishing 

is available on Amazon.com. 

Tim Romano photo 


BACKCOUNTRY BLOODLINE: 

A NORWEGIAN QUEST FOR FISH AND FAMILY 

two weeks of roaming Norway I never saw 

a “no trespassing” sign. There are exceptions. 

For example, landowners do charge 

a fee for fishing along key salmon streams 

– the better the fishing, the higher the fee. 

The Norwegian system works because 

the Norwegian people are also taught to 

respect the land. In my two weeks in Norway, 

I never saw a sign with bullet holes or 

a beer can in a ditch. Litter, vandalism and 

graffiti are conspicuously absent. 

While the forests around Femund are 

wild, they are not wilderness by American 

standards. They were clearcut for charcoal 

to feed copper smelters in the mid-1600s, 

about the same time America’s Pilgrims 

were scraping out a living at Plymouth 

Rock. That said, any place with muskoxen 

and brown bears isn’t exactly tame. The 

views are expansive and unbroken. 

This is southern Sami country (sometimes 

called Lapland) – winter range for 

thousands of reindeer and their indigenous 

herders. The lake’s name, “Femund,” is 

probably of Sami origin, but no one seems 

to remember what it might have meant. 

The bulk of the reindeer are on summer 

ranges to the north, but we see semi-domesticated 

stragglers from the road. The 

Sami “brand” them by notching their ears. 

Here, reindeer are private, free-ranging 

livestock. In other places in Norway they 

are left to roam wild and are hunted like 

Alaskan caribou. 

We visited in early September, but the 

weather was mild. Walking around the 

home farm, I found the tracks of foxes and 

diminutive hoofmarks and rubbed trees 

left by roe deer. But the most iconic species 

here is the moose, or “elk” as the Norwegians 

say. Adding to the confusion, other 

parts of Norway have red deer, which are 

a smaller subspecies of Cervus elaphus, or 

what we call elk in North America. 

Though damp, the forests were good 

for walking, with well-spaced trees and no 

understory higher than your boot-tops. 

The shrubs were full of Eurasian magpies, 

perfect replicas of the black-billed magpies 

back home. 

During World War II, the Nazis took 

over Norway and used the frozen Femund 

Lake as a cold-weather ballistics range to 

test how their artillery would function in 

the kind of frigid temperatures they expected 

to encounter in Russia. 

But during my visit, the feeling was one 

of enormous peace. The only sound was 

the wind fluttering the birches and the 

barking of the family’s elkhounds, who 

wanted to come out and play. 

We stayed at the Langen (Long) Guesthouse, 

the family farm that hosts both a 

small dairy and rustic accommodations for 

people who come to canoe and fish at Femund. 

The guest farm is run by more of 

my distant cousins. The patriarch is named 

Odd; his two sons, Eric and Arne, run the 

place, along with Arne’s wife, Monica. 

Monica is an example of Norway’s 

egalitarian culture. Norwegian history is 

full of female badassery, dating back to 

the Viking warriors, many of whom were 

women. Monica runs a snowmobile, hunts 

moose and canoes hundreds of wilderness 

miles. 

Eric and Arne are roughly my age and 

very reserved. But I found I could open 

TEXT AND PHOTOS BY BEN LONG 

THE SUN WAS ABOVE THE PLANE 

as we dropped through the clouds over 

Norway, casting a rainbow-like halo called 

the Specter of Brocken around the plane’s 

shadow. As we dipped below the cloud layer, 

Ole Ragnar pointed out the window. 

“That long, narrow lake is Femund!” he 

said. Ole is a distant cousin, roughly eight 

generations removed. He is 20 years older 

than me and speaks broken English but we 

get along well. We’ve hiked a bit together 

near my home in Montana and fished and 

hiked in Alaska, where we bagged a small 

peak in the Chugach Range and boated 

halibut and king salmon. Now, Ole is 

eager to show me the home waters. Our 

home waters. 

Femund is one of the largest lakes in 

Norway, flanked on one side by the Femundsmark 

National Park, plus another 

large park on the Swedish side of the border. 

It’s about as backcountry as one can 

get in Europe – home to brown bears, 

wolves, wolverines and muskoxen. 

Femund is also where my family is from. 

Our written history here goes back to 

1650. Before that, it gets foggy. My greatgreat 

grandfather left Femund in 1850. 

This was my first trip overseas. I was curious 

to explore the land and also an idea: 

Where does this hunger for connecting 

to the land, for belonging to a wild place, 

begin? Is the attraction to wild country 

something we are taught or something inherent, 

even genetic? 

Norway is almost exactly the same size 

as Montana and sits near the same latitude 

as interior Alaska. It is home to about 5 

million people. The landscape below the 

plane was gentle compared to the iconic 

fjordlands of the western coast, but still 

rugged and glaciated. The land is scraped 

clean down to the rocks and scratched 

with gouges and gorges, eskers and moraines. 

The hills are domed and bald except 

for reindeer moss, which give them a light 

green glow. Forests of pine and birch cover 

the lowlands. Pothole lakes dot the land 

and long finger lakes run north to south. 

My father, sister and I arrived at Ole 

Ragnar’s house in the small town of Roros, 

where Ole proudly showed us his supply 

of split birch firewood, his shelves of books 

and freezers full of fillets. Then we loaded 

into his Spanish-built Ford and drove 

through woods of birch, pine and blooming 

fireweed. 

Because Scandinavia still has more open 

space relative to the rest of Europe, and because 

of a culture that deeply values nature 

and self-reliance, more people hunt and 

fish here than anywhere else on the continent. 

Hiking and cross-country skiing 

are national passions. Even in the coldest 

regions of Norway, kindergarten classes are 

taught outside, all winter long. Kids learn 

young to respect nature and dress appropriately. 

Only 5 percent of Norway is suitable 

for farming. The rest is largely forest, rock, 

bog and tundra. By law, Norwegians are 

free to roam any uncultivated land for 

hiking, camping and berry picking. In my 



them up on the topic of hunting. 

They showed me their handsome, 

friendly elkhounds. The hounds trail by 

scent but don’t run the moose, rather leading 

the hunters to the prey while leashed. 

Some elkhounds will also circle and hold 

a moose so a hunter can approach and 

shoot it. 

As in Montana, moose may only be 

hunted by special permit awarded via lottery. 

Eric and Arne told me that they can 

play the odds by applying for permits in 

more rugged, remote areas where fewer 

people want to go. This, it seemed to me, 

is the very premise of “backcountry,” no 

matter where you are. 

Eric and Arne seemed surprised to hear 

that Americans largely frown on hunting 

big game with dogs, considering it unsporting. 

To them, the dogs are paramount 

to the hunt, virtually eradicate any wounding 

loss, and contribute much of the joy of 

the experience – as American bird hunters 

feel about their gun dogs. 

Ole is a fishing fanatic in a nation of 

fanatical fishermen. Fishing is recreation, 

but Ole also has the utilitarian appreciation 

for fish as food. 

The morning dawned foggy. Ole took 

me fishing while my father and sister 

picked cloudberries with Odd. The woods 

were full of ripe blueberries, but the light, 

flavorful cloudberry is the local prize. 

Once the fog lifted, Ole and I loaded 

into his 30-year-old boat. We putted the 

outboard a few clicks into a rocky harbor 

to his hut to load up on tackle. Fish here 

include species common back home: Arctic 

char, brown trout, pike, whitefish and 

perch. In my two weeks in Norway, I ate 

more than a dozen species of fish, from 

both salt and freshwater. 

We put out trolling rigs akin to gang 

trolls used for kokanee back home. Plus, 

we reeled out a clever hand-held trotline, 

which would risk jail time in the U.S. It 

was a simple piece of wood with a handle, 

which holds a line. Every meter or two, a 

line and a spinner dropped in to the water. 

The works were kept in line by an outrigger 

board, 10-15 yards off the gunwale. 

It seemed to me that Norwegians figure 

the fish exist to feed Norwegians, and our 

job was to help the fish find their destiny. 

Ole and I talked history and politics. 

It turned out that the Norwegian forestry 

agency owns about 10 percent of timberlands. 

Some say this is too much and those 

lands should be shifted to private hands. 

I told him that back home in the United 

States, politicians are forcing the same debate. 

In the U.S., we are lucky to have 30- 

40 percent of the country in public ownership. 

Unlike in Norway, American private 

landowners are perfectly free to lock out 

the public and charge fees to set foot on 

their ground. 

We trolled pleasantly, watching schools 

of fish on the sonar, but caught nothing. 

Ole said the water is too warm. He should 

know – he spends eight weeks a year fishing 

this and surrounding lakes and has 

since he was a kid. I guess we left our fishing 

luck in Alaska. 

Ole tore open a bag of cookies and 

handed me a cup. We dipped water out of 

Femund and drank it straight. I realized 

that my family has been drinking from this 

lake for centuries. It was a feeling that, as a 

European-American, I’d never felt before. 

My journey left me wondering, though, 

where does one’s culture start and nature 

leave off? Ole, Odd, Eric, Arne and Monica 

love berry picking, take great pride in 

their woodpiles, their fish, dogs and moose 

and deer. Their love of the outdoors, their 

taste in landscapes is almost identical to 

my family in Idaho and Montana. Is this 

chance? Is this culture? Is this genetics? 

I don’t know where those lines are 

drawn, but I believe there is something 

deep in the human spirit that is pulled to 

places like Femund and drawn to basic, 

rewarding activities like hunting, fishing, 

walking and berry picking. It is a part of 

what makes us human, no matter where 

we are from. In the modern world, it’s easy 

to forget that. And if we live in that modern 

world too long, we risk forgetting it. 

Of all I saw in my two-week tour, I was 

most impressed with how well Norwegians 

take care of their country. They do not 

litter because they respect the land. They 

earn their freedom through respect of private 

property, public resources and nature 

alike. 

“We Americans could learn a lot from 

you Norwegians,” I told Ole. 

The old fisherman grinned back and 

said: “I think we could each learn from 

each other.” 

Ben Long is co-chair of Backcountry 

Hunters & Anglers. He lives in Kalispell, 

Montana. He enjoys lefse but hates lutefisk. 

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A Mother’s 

Memory 

BY HOLLY ENDERSBY 

RAIN FELL IN GREAT GRAY SHEETS 

as I sat in the kitchen drinking my coffee. 

Watching the dark, wet Oregon morning 

outside the window brought back vivid 

memories of another rainy day only a week 

before. 

My son and I left the house before daylight 

to hunt blacktail deer together. These 

shy, diminutive Northwest cousins of mule 

deer live in thick tangles of Oregon’s vine 

maple, thistle, waist-high fern, blackberry 

and dark fir trees. Howling wet weather 

opened the door to their world. 

That misty gray morning we headed 

for a favorite clear-cut. The eight-year-old 

logging scar provided perfect deer forage: 

plenty of grass, tender young trees and 

juicy huckleberries. 

I celebrated my 50 th birthday that year, 

but it was my first year hunting. My grown 

son was my partner. Earlier in the fall, we’d 

also gone hunting together. I was next to 

him when he killed an antelope and a bull 

elk and helped with the field dressing. I 

was grateful for the shared experience as 

well as for the lives the animals had given 

us. Coming to hunting after a half-century 

of living helped season the process. Every 

kill made me think about my reasons for 

hunting and inched me towards a deeper 

understanding of this intimate act. 

As we left the car at the end of the old 

logging road before daybreak, the rain 

stopped and conditions were perfect. 

Waiting for first light in the thick timber, 

we whispered a plan. My son would hunt 

below a ridge while I traced the upper 

fringe of the clear-cut. Wishing each other 

good luck, we eased from the shadows. 

As I moved slowly through the rainsoaked 

vegetation, water beaded on my 

pants and darkened my boots. Glistening 

wet earth held fresh, heart-shaped deer 

prints. Water dripped from every bush and 

smoke-colored clouds shrouded the dark, 

timbered hills. But an hour of hunting 

produced only soggy clothes, so I climbed 

a rise to follow a game trail lined with 

chest-high brush. 

Five minutes later, I jumped when a single 

shot rang out. Jogging quickly down 

the trail I almost stumbled over a dead doe. 

The morning mist still clinging to her 

delicate nose, she seemed more fragile and 

vulnerable than the antelope with his erect 

stance and proud horns or the bull elk with 

his massive, muscular body. She was fineboned, 

dainty, small bodied – feminine. 

With my son coaching me, I began field 

dressing the doe. Slicing through the warm 

skin, slipping the knife under the hide and 

keeping the hot, slippery entrails back at 

the same time was harder than I imagined. 

When I cut between the teats, white fluid 

came pouring out. Horrified, I looked at 

my son. “What is it?” 

“It’s milk, Mom. You’re cutting through 

the breasts.” 

My body responded with a shudder. Images 

flashed of breastfeeding my son as an 

infant and of his wife, then pregnant with 

their first child. How could I be doing 

this? Stricken, I looked at my son. 

Reading my face he said, “Mom, this 

deer had a fawn last spring, but this late in 

the season it’s already eating grass and can 

survive without its mother.” 

But looking down at my viscera-covered 

hands I was thinking about being a 


mother, not a hunter. It didn’t matter that 

we were different species. We both fed babies 

with milk from our bodies and would 

give our lives to protect them. In spite of 

the articles I’d read, or how I’d thought 

hunting would be, this was not like walking 

to the garden to harvest lettuce. It was 

the death of an animal that was suddenly 

very much like me. This was taking a life. 

A brew of emotions coursed through 

me. Tears welled in my eyes. My hands 

shook. Why hadn’t it bothered me like 

this when I helped dress the antelope, elk 

or bear? I felt intense emotions at those 

times and had shed tears over the beauty 

of the animals taken and their loss of 

life, but I hadn’t felt this gut-wrenching 

turmoil washing over me like a wave. The 

difference was gender. Those animals had 

been large, strong males. This was a delicate 

doe, a mother. 

Before I ever slung a rifle over my shoulder 

and walked into the woods intending 

to kill my own meat, I made a conscious 

decision to hunt. I needed to be responsible 

for taking the life of the animal that 

would feed me. Selecting cuts of meat 

from the grocery store was no longer 

morally acceptable. At the store, I never 

wondered about the gender or age of the 

animal I’d eat. Packaged meat left me with 

a blissfully ignorant conscience. The doe 

lying beneath my hands demanded a full 

confrontation of the consequence of my 

actions. As I knelt beside the dead mother 

with her life’s blood and milk mingled on 

my hands, I had to face the reality of death 

and killing. But I was also faced with the 

reality of life. 

The deer and I didn’t just share the 

kinship of motherhood; we were alike in 

another way. Without food I would die, 

as would she. The doe would nourish the 

bodies of my son and me. And her memory 

would be a part of my life forever. Our 

shared motherhood slammed me face to 

face with the deepest issue of hunting: the 

deliberate taking of a life. And why some 

hunters refuse to take female big game 

animals suddenly hit home. But the doe’s 

death also cemented the intimate connection 

between myself, the animals I hunt 

and the land we share. The doe and I were 

more alike than I ever imagined – or had 

ever wanted to think about. 

Blinking back tears, I finished field 

dressing the doe. Then, my son and I carried 

her through the leg-snaring vines and 

dripping wet brush to the car. At home 

we skinned the deer then later cut and 

wrapped the meat. She fed us both that 

winter. 

As I sat in the kitchen holding my coffee 

cup watching the rain wash over the land, 

I knew I would continue to hunt, because, 

for me, it’s the right thing to do. Hunting 

has given me more than just the special gift 

of time with my son or meat for the freezer. 

It has seared my heart with the knowledge 

that life is precious for all creatures. 

And it has reminded me that our actions 

often have consequences that can change 

us forever. 

The memory of taking another mother’s 

life demands that I live and hunt with 

great reverence. I will take that lesson with 

me to the end of my days. 

Holly was on the original BHA board 

of directors, hosting its first meeting at her 

home. After several years of volunteering for 

BHA, she served as the interim director and 

the first conservation director. She now is 

working solely on Idaho issues. 


INSTRUCTIONAL 

RIDING OUT 

THE STORM 

THE BIOLOGY 

AND MYTHOLOGY 

OF DEER ACTIVITY 

TEXT AND PHOTOS BY JACK BALLARD 

A CURTAIN OF ACRID, GRAY SMOKE obscured my vision, 

but the satisfying sound of bullet striking body heralded the 

success of my shot. The emission from the barrel of my muzzleloader 

dissipated quickly in a nearly imperceptible breeze, 

revealing the prostrate form of a fat whitetail doe on a bed of 

oak leaves 50 paces down the ridge. I gutted the animal, then 

slid the carcass down the steep side of a West Virginia hollow. 

Arriving on a road of sorts, I met a local hunter. The fellow 

had seen at least twice as many winters as I. The features of his 

face were obscured in a swath of gray stubble, and his mottled 

blue eyes darted from the doe to its dragger. 

“Where’d ya get that purty doe?” 

“Up on the ridge, at the top of this basin.” 

“Nice ya got her, but dang, I like huntin’ up there and now 

it’s tainted.” 

“Tainted?” 

At my question the turquoise eyes shot me a gaze that had 

“you idiot” written all over it. He then proceeded to educate 

me in the way of the local whitetails. Every deer for a mile 

around, he said, will smell the blood of the dead doe and won’t 

trespass on these parts for several days. 

It’s a new one to me, but not out of the realm of colloquial 

hunting knowledge. Some folks still think a deer’s throat must 

be slit so it will bleed properly. Others won’t hunt the wrong 

side of the moon. Where there are deer hunters there’s folklore, 

sometimes absurd, sometimes insightful. 

As it turns out, some nostalgic notions of hunting lore can 

be taken to the bank, while others are bunk. As an early teen, 

I read everything I could regarding deer hunting. I specifically 

remember one article encouraging hunters to lace their boots 

and take to the field just prior to and after a significant storm. 

Deer, the author explained, actively feed as a storm advances 

and often embark on another feeding binge after it passes 

through. Possessed of an inquisitive mind, I spent the next 

decade making my own observations to see if the writer’s conclusions 

were true. 

Nearly 40 years later, I still mark 

the man a genius, although he 

was simply describing what 

countless other hunters and 

biologists have observed for 

decades. Deer are indeed influenced 

by storm events, sometimes 

dramatically. Here are 

some biology-based patterns affecting 

deer before, during and after 

a storm that can help your hunting. 

Listen to the weather forecasters and 

Want to 

learn more useful skills? 

Check out our video series 

BACKCOUNTRY COLLEGE 

with Clay Hayes at backcountry 

hunters.org/index.php/skills/ 

backcountry-college. Subscribe 

to BHA’s YouTube channel to 

catch new episodes! 

they’ll often bemoan an advancing storm on any November weekend. 

But for astute deer hunters, bad weather is usually good news. 

Award-winning author Jack Ballard has penned over 100 articles 

on deer and deer hunting. He is currently working on a FalconGuide 

book, “Whitetail Deer” that will publish in 2016. See more of his work 

at www.jackballard.com. 

BEFORE AND AFTER 

1 

Apparently reacting to changes in 

barometric pressures and shifts in temperature, 

the feeding activities of whitetails 

and mule deer typically spike before 

and after a significant storm event. The 

increase in feeding activity prior to a 

storm seems to meet a biological need to 

take on additional food reserves in anticipation of a period of 

lower temperatures and inactivity during the storm. Afterwards, 

animals are likely motivated by an empty belly. Having passed 

a day or two in a bed without a meal, the deer may simply be 

assuaging hunger pangs after the storm passes through. Whatever 

the case, feeding deer are more easily seen and stalked by hunters, 

making prelude and post-storm periods excellent times to hunt. 

ALL-DAY BUFFET 

2 

Research that specifically pinpoints the 

timing of feeding activity prior to and after 

winter storms under a variety of conditions 

is lacking. That said, most experts seem to 

agree that the 24 to 48 hour period prior to a 

storm sees the greatest increase in deer movement 

and feeding. For my money, I’ll take 

the day just before the storm hits. If the temperature has been warm, 

this is generally the time period where it drops into the comfort zone 

of winter-coated whitetails and mule deer. During this time, feeding 

areas are the best places to hunt, even more so than transitional zones 

between forage and bedding cover. Undisturbed deer may tarry at the 

buffet much later in the morning and arrive much earlier in the afternoon 

than during typical weather. In fact, I’ve seen whitetails actively 

feeding at every hour of the day just prior to a storm. 

TEMPERATURE 

3 

From a biological standpoint, it appears 

that the temperature shifts associated with 

storms might be the most helpful element 

in predicting deer movements for hunters. 

Deer, like the humans who hunt them, have 

a range of temperatures in which their activities 

are most comfortable. Clad in the 

slick, short coat of summer, several studies indicate whitetails are 

most active at temperatures ranging from 45 to 65 degrees (F). Turn up 

the heat and they’re less inclined toward movement that makes them 

uncomfortably hot. Turn it down and they’ll stay bedded to retain 

warmth. However, the correlation between temperature and deer activity 

isn’t always so simple. Deer sporting the dense, highly insulating 

coat of winter become uncomfortable in moderate temperatures that 

they may prefer in the summer. In the fall, especially in northern climates, 

deer are more happily active in the 20 to 40 degree (F) range. 

Periods of time before and after storm events that bring temperatures 

into this range will also stimulate deer movements. 

MIGRATION 

4 

In migratory populations, cold and snow 

depth, or more often some combination 

thereof, are the triggers that spur deer to 

move from summer to winter range. While 

experienced hunters in the Northeast, the 

upper Midwest and the Rocky Mountains 

are tuned to migrations, whitetail chasers on 

the plains and the heartland often fail to appreciate the migratory character 

of deer in their area. A study conducted in the Dakotas concluded 

that whitetails may migrate seven miles or sometimes notably farther 

between their summer and winter ranges. For these deer, temperature 

appears to the primary impetus for changing residence. Migration was 

initiated when daytime temperatures remained below freezing for three 

consecutive days, a situation that is often encountered during a major 

storm event. Determining the presence of migratory patterns in a 

hunting area aids a hunter in knowing if a major snowstorm and cold 

front may move deer into an area, or clear it out. 

42 | BACKCOUNTRY JOURNALWINTER 2016 


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END OF THE LINE 

BLACK OUT PACK OUT 

JIM SHOCKEY 

Professional Hunter, Guide, and TV Host 

EVERY 

HUNT 

EVERY 

TIME 

“NO SERIOUSLY, IT’S FINE, MAN. 

Go to sleep,” I reassured Chad over the 

phone. “I can get this animal off the 

mountain myself. If not, I’ll come back for 

another load in the morning.” 

“Are you sure?” Chad asked, for the 

dozenth time. “Ok, well, I am exhausted. 

Congrats, again.” 

It was 10 p.m. and I’d just discovered 

the still-warm body of my first mule deer. 

A half-mile jog-stalk had brought me next 

to the path of three bucks meandering up 

a high ridge at sunset. The leader and largest 

came broadside inside 30 yards, then 

went down for another munch of grass. I 

dropped from a crouch to a knee, drew, released, 

and heard a most satisfying thunk 

echo over the mountain. 

Glistening arrow stuck in dirt. Pollock 

painting on rocks. I forced myself to give 

him 20 minutes. Then it was dark. 

The blood completely disappeared in 40 

yards. I later realized this was due to two 

massive, final bounds off the steep ridge 

face. Yet I searched the trees below for an 

hour, bumping other deer, before finding 

mine less than 100 yards from the hit. 

Chad had just flown back home to 

Montana from his grandmother’s funeral 

in Upstate New York. He’d texted me 

about an unrelated matter while I was 

bloodtrailing. Two minutes after we hung 

up, I got a three-word text: “On my way.” 

I knew it would take him the better part 

of two hours, by car and mostly by foot, to 

get the two miles and 2,000 feet up to the 

mountaintop where I knelt, quartering my 

buck. I also knew he couldn’t be deterred. 

And I understood all too well that sense 

of gratefulness that makes a hunter hike 

through the night to help a friend haul 

meat. 

A cool, early October breeze tickled my 

neck as I separated backstrap from bone. 

When I marched five miles through dusk 

to help Chad with his buck last year in 

late November, the weather hadn’t been 

so temperate. I’d hiked hard, stopped 

fast, and immediately lost feeling in both 

hands. In the single-digit weather, Chad 

eventually had to build a fire just so I could 

regain the use of a few fingers and get my 

pack loaded with half his deer. 

Sensation came flooding back once 

we began striding fast, but it was a 

miserable long slog through the snow. 

I remember pondering why I was on a 

frigid mountainside, at midnight on a 

Wednesday, slipping around under a 

heavy pack. I didn’t need to be there, but 

I had to be there. I wanted to participate 

in a buddy’s triumph. I wanted to say 

thanks for showing me some incredible elk 

country that fall. I wanted to be a part of a 

hunt even when I couldn’t be hunting. The 

season is always over too soon. 

-Sam Lungren, editor 

sam@backcountryhunters.org 

Chad White photo 

EVERYWHERE 

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© 2015 Leupold+Stevens, Inc. LEUPOLD.COM

REMI WARREN 

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pushes your limits and tests your will; that’s why Under Armour builds the gear to keep you in the field.

Backcountry Journal Winter 2016

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