Montana Woods N Water January 2016 Print Edition

Publisher’s Notes The new year is here and I am already looking forward to 2016’s fishing and hunting seasons. I still need to fill my cat tag, do some antler, rabbit, wolf and coyote hunting, not to mention I need to wet a hook through the ice. Finding the time may be a challenge but part of the fun is planning it all out.

As we enter into an election year make sure you truly do your own research before getting behind or donating to any one candidate. They are some silver tongued devils. I know I am tired of hearing about it already. We need a solid God fearing leader with some business sense to get this country back on track. I am very concern about the future of our children and grandchildren.

With each new year some of us set new goals and here at Montana Woods N Water we hope to continue to grow the publication both in print and digitally. This business is so economy driven and a lot of local business are already feeling the winter squeeze...so make sure you tell our advertisers thank you and buy local when you can.

For those of you riding snowmobiles and out ice fishing please be careful and think safety first. A many of accidents starts of with the phrase “Watch this!” The graveyards of full of those that think it can’t happen to them. Raf Viniard, Publisher

What’s Inside Another Packed Issue!

Hunting 2 Patriots 6 The Root Cellar 7 Predator Hunting 9 Shooting Sports 10 Montana Dan 11 Next Generation 12 Local Celebrities 13 Sportsman’s Meditation 15 Tony Rebo Unleashed 17 Angela Montana 19 Manly Men 22 Sportsman’s Meditation Too 23 Kimo & Diego 24 Mountain Memories 27 Inside Back Cover— Ice Fishing Tournament

Staff Publisher/Editor/Layout/Sales: Raf - 406-407-0612 Director of Social Media Misty - 406-250-4191

Got something you would like for us to add or bring back to the publication drop me an email. See email address below.

Guest Writers This Month: Charles Woolley—pg. 6 , Judy Wooley—pg. 7, Pastor Cam Foote, pg.—23 Carol Cady—pg. 27 Front Cover Photo Provided By: Raf Viniard A Treed Juvenile Mountain Lion—Mineral County, MT To Contact Us: Montana Woods N Water 171 Clark Creek Loop Plains, Montana 59859 406-407-0612 Email: raf@montanawoodsnwater.com www.montanawoodsnwater.com

Pro Staff Writers This Month: Pastor Jim Sinclair Paul Fielder Dan Helterline Tony Rebo Daniel Brown Angela Montana

Editorial Policy: Montana Woods N Water (MWW) reserves the right to refuse to publish any form of content that does not include the author’s name, complete mailing address, and/or valid phone number or e-mail address. Anonymous submissions will not be addressed or published. MWW reserves the right not to publish anything we feel is not in good taste or appropriate. All content, material and graphics designed by Montana Woods N Water are copyrighted.

HUNTING

Get That Kitty

By Raf Viniard With a cat tag in my pocket, a new pup and a hunting buddy ready to indoctrinate both of us into the world of cat hunting, I was excited. My hunting buddy George, I am sure felt like he was taking on another dependent. I asked him ten thousand questions to learn all I could and to make sure I had everything I needed…the list actually ended up being very short. I mean this is my type of hunting. I get to ride around in a warm truck eating junk food, drinking Mountain Dews, Monsters and Red Bulls looking for cat tracks all day. When you find a good set of tracks (more on that later) just drop the tailgate and let the dogs do the work. In my more youthful days, I coon and rabbit hunted and chased wild hogs in Georgia with dogs but this was going to be another adventure I could add to my hunting resume. Best yet, how many folks can say they have been mountain lion hunting? I am truly “Living The Dream”. Now grant it with coon, rabbit and hog hunting we were usually done before or by midnight and I was back home skinning out said critters.

As we made our cat hunting plans it was revealed to me that this was an early morning thing and we need to be in the hunt area well before daylight looking for tracks. No problem, I can get up at 5:00 AM bright eyed and bushy tailed, I have done that for years hunting and fishing. I confirmed my time theory with a question as to what time I needed to be ready by asking…”What time?” Without missing a beat he said, I will pick you up at three. “Do what?” I thought. That means I will have to get up by 2:30 am at the very latest. Being careful to not show any surprise or weakness I confirmed with an energetic, “I’ll be ready”. Was this a George thing or the way it is done?

Either way I was game and ready to find me a kitty. After all, I had a new pup aka “Whiskey” and we both would learn this cat hunting thing together. Whiskey and I had already had a few discussions about what his job was versus mine. He cocked his head like he fully understood what I was telling him so we must be good to go and communicating.

I went to bed around 11:30ish and set my phone alarm for 2:30am… not one alarm but three in five minute increments. I got all nestled in next to Momma and the last thing I heard her mumble was, “You two (referring to George too, I think.) are crazy…just be quiet when you get up in a couple of hours. You know you might as well stay awake, you will never get up.” She was quickly in dream land and all I could do was lay there hoping I would not oversleep and doing a mental check to make sure everything was laid out and ready to go. I finally drifted off to sleep somewhere between midnight and 1:00 am. Don’t ask me why but at 2:29am my eyes quickly popped open as I thought I had over slept. I jumped up and quickly grabbed the phone off the night stand and ran to the kitchen so as not to wake my “sleeping beauty” as the alarm was about to go off in one minute or less. I was so sleepy I just stood in the kitchen trying to remember why I jumped up out of the bed. George quickly reminded me with a text that said, “You up?”

Sure enough at 2:59am here comes George up the driveway.

Whiskey and our other “welfare dog” were barking and raising a ruckus. I was sure hoping the neighbors slept with a fan running at night. George’s dogs and mine were all singing like a badly out of tune five piece band. We quickly loaded up my two tons of equipment; you know camera bag, cooler, extra clothes, etc. Oh and not to forget the dog and his brand new Garmin GPS Alpha tracker and collar. Continued on page 3.

2

HUNTING CONTINUED Now that little toy set me…sorry honey, “us” back a small fortune.

But hey, a guy and his hunting dog has got to have the latest hi-tech gear to catch a cat and keep track of his hunting partners. It took some selling to convince her that her dog really needed it worse than mine…since my dog minded and her dog didn’t, case in point, she had to go find “her” deer- chasing dog a couple of times over at the neighbors. The sale was a slam dunk.

George already had the truck warmed up. Whiskey was loaded in the dog box with a slight shove of encouragement. I thought I heard him mumble some profanities as I shut the door behind him. Whiskey was not sure about this dog box thing…after all he was usually my passenger/co-pilot sitting in the front seat. Before I closed the side dog door I reminded Whiskey of his job description and what was required of him. But first we needed to stop by the local convenience store and stock up on junk food, drinks and fuel. Question, why does junk food taste so good at 3:00am? As we pulled out of our quiet little town of Plains, MT it was obvious we were the only two idiots out at that time in the morning. Down the road we headed, stuffing my face with a high carb and sugar breakfast…I love Little Debbie white donuts! It’s a bummer seeing George watch me eating all this type of junk food, since he can’t eat anything with flour in it. Did you know Twizzlers have flour in them? Sorry George!

As we got off the interstate and hit the first snow covered mountain road away from the public eye and ear, George turns on his tracking lights. Holy cow, I spent 22 years in the Air Force and did not see an aircraft with lights that bright. You needed sun tan oil and sunglasses just to stick your head out the window to watch for cat tracks. Now I know what Whiskey feels like with his head stuck out the window.

Man my ears got cold, nose started running and I wanted to sneeze!

It wasn’t long until one of the dogs let out a bay…game on. As I sit in the passenger seat straining my eyeballs looking for tracks I was being coached as to the details one must look for in a cat track. Oh no…not any cat track will do…we are looking for the man, not some little sissy cat. However, a nice bobcat track would suffice since we both had our trapping license. Any sign of wolf tracks and we were off in another direction PDQ (Pretty Darn Quick). As our fully lit aircraft carrier, I mean truck slowly traveled one snowy covered road after another, the dogs would bark and bay as they picked up a kitty scent waffling in the air. At times the chorus was like sweet music as they begin to chime in unison, other times George and I could not hear each other talking. Yeah this is really what it was all about…the dogs. They work hard to please us and love what they do…they love to chase kitties! It goes back to the dog vs cat thing!

Well after daylight we finally got on some tracks George thought was worth running. The dogs were going crazy…well except for Whiskey… he wasn’t sure what the heck was going on. We got all the dogs out of the dog box and collared them and released. The chase was on… again except Whiskey. Whiskey headed up the bank after the big dogs but decided about 100 yards in that he had better stay close to the truck in case we needed to move it closer to the action. When he dropped back down to the truck I could tell by the look on his face he felt they could handle it without his help. It was getting close to lunch and he wasn’t about to miss it. Continued on page 4.

3

HUNTING CONTINUED The big dogs made quick work of the chase and was showing treed, even Whiskey was showing treed…about five feet in front of the truck next to George’s leg. The GPS was showing the big dogs at 779 yards. How many of you have figured out that GPS readings are just a false sense of hope?

As I stood there gearing up and almost breaking my neck looking up at the snow covered pines with their limbs hanging low from the snow load, I realized this new interest of mine might have just taken its first ugly turn. Snow was about 8-12 inches deep depending on where you stepped, covering all those little trip and slip hazards you can normally see.

George took off up the side of the snow covered mountain in the direction of the dogs along with some other hunters that we had bumped into. According to the GPS the topography did not look too bad…wrong! Reality set in real quick. Since I was the oldest of the bunch I decide to take my time and work my way up. The smart cowboy stays to the rear and lets those young pups break the trail. You always need a rear guard. I think Whiskey believes in the “no man left behind” motto. Whiskey stayed close to me and was my moral support until we got to a VERY large log we had to jump over. It was about a four foot drop…I slid over the log like a boa constrictor…forget that jumping thing. Whiskey decided to let me go first and then he made a command decision to let me go it alone and would watch my back trail. You know, just in case the cat circled back and ambushed us. As I trudged up the snowy mountain through the snow covered brush I could hear him down the mountain side encouraging me with his barks. This dog is smarter than I give him credit, I think the roles had been reversed on me. I am now the one going to find the cat.

Following George’s snow trail made me wonder if all those Red Bulls and Mountain Dews had messed up his sense of direction. It was like following a Singer sewing machine with some kind of weird stitch. As one limb full of snow after another fell down my collar I realized Whiskey would be trained to only tree cats within…like 100 yards of the road. Note to self…rewrite his job description!

I finally got up to the tree and there it was…my first mountain lion. As I stood on the side of this mountain with one leg downhill leaning against a big Fir I took in this experience, the dogs barking, the beautiful Montana mountains covered in snow and hounds men and dogs doing what they love…chasing kitties. George would encourage the dogs by shouting “Get the kitty!” and that just fired up that much more. Everyone popped out their cameras/phones and started taking pictures and videos. The dogs were just all over the place, baying, barking, chopping and leaning against the base of the tree. Dog tracks everywhere. They would get so worked up that they would have to take a breather every few minutes so they could bark or bay again. As for me I had already sweated out anything I had drank earlier that morning and was looking for an oxygen tank in my backpack.

All I could find was my camera equipment! My breathing finally slowed enough that I could hold the camera sort of still. With each picture and video I knew this would be a memory and a story to share.

This little kitty was a juvenile and needed another year or two before he would be ready to harvest. He seemed un-phased by all the commotion and I think was perplexed with all the noise and people talking. He would look over this way and that, trying to figure out what had just happen. He was like, “Okay, nothing to see here folks…move along I need to find my Momma I am getting hungry.” Once all the pictures and video were taken, it was time to leave the little fella alone.

He just got his first lesson about cat hunters and their dogs. The dogs were disappointed but being the good sports they are, healed and headed downhill with their masters. Tails a wagging and noses in the air looking for that next kitty chase.

As we headed back down the mountain I noticed we were going straight down the drain rather than side hilling and fighting all that underbrush and snow I had encountered on the way up. Going down was steep but not nearly as brushy and full of blow downs. I think George was just ready to get back to the truck and grab his Mountain Dew and a sandwich. I needed to swing wide to get Whiskey guarding our backdoor…yeah right. As soon as I dropped below him he came running over like he had done his job and I thought I heard him congratulate me on treeing the cat. Continued on page 5.

4

HUNTING CONTINUED Now I know I need to take another look at his job description. I think we have a miscommunication.

We all loaded back up into the truck and set out to find another kitty track. I was soaked from my waist down from wading through all the snow and polishing the side of the mountain with my butt a couple of times…that warm truck felt so good. Plus, we had picked up an additional young hunter that kept George busy while I rested my eyes. The sleep monster was all over my back in short order and it seemed I had to fight him off about every 30 seconds. A couple of times I think he pushed my head down to my chest, put me in a choke hold and almost got the best of me. Finally the dogs struck again…or should I say “those d$#m dogs struck again”. I was so hoping this chase would be closer to the truck. Since I was already wet and tired I knew I would be a little wimpy and might have to be carried off the mountain in a litter or build a fire to dry out and warm up. Heck, I might even have to take a nap!

As we sit in the truck watching the dogs work up one drain, and down another I knew this chase was about over, you could tell by the intensity of the barking. According to George it appeared to be a bobcat. As I watched the Garmin tracker that was littered with trails the dogs had traveled it finally showed all the dogs treed not more than 40 yards off the road we just came up…YES!!! Thank you Lord!

I quickly got out and let Whiskey out…again he was not sure what was going on but was willing to go and investigate what all these dogs are barking at. I mean he could see the truck if he had to make a hasty retreat.

Sure enough it was a nice bobcat. The cat was really hard to see with all the limbs. Again George coached the dogs with “Find the kitty!” They loved it and immediately starting baying louder. We finally figured out how we were going to harvest the cat. We tied up all the seasoned dogs and decided to let the pups participate in the harvest. George placed a quick lethal shot into the cat and it rolled out of the tree onto the ground. At first the pups were like…what the heck is that thing? George released the pups biological Dad and he quickly showed the pups how you handle the situation. You could almost see it click in those pups’ brains…ahha this is what we are after.

Whiskey decided it was time to challenge his biological Dad over his new found toy.

A couple of corrections and it was determined that it was George’s new toy.

By the time we got the cat and dogs loaded into the truck I was pooped but it had been an awesome day out cat hunting.

Treed two cats in one day, got plenty of fresh air, exercise, a semibath, hung out with my hunting buddy and got to eat all the junk food and drink I wanted. The pup got his first day out cat hunting and we got to spend it in the snow covered Montana Mountains.

Life was good!

I came home, fed and watered the dog, took a hot shower and leaned back on the couch and I think my eye lids slammed shut as fast as they opened several hours earlier. So much for Red Bulls, Monster and Mountain Dew drinks keeping you awake.

If you love hunting with dogs...this is coon/rabbit hunting on steroids. Not as intense as hog hunting but so much more rewarding than catching a stinky hog.

For those of you wondering…the re-writing of Whiskey’s job description is well under way. He is undergoing retraining in learning who is supposed to go to the tree first.

5

PATRIOTS

Why Do Things Cost So Much? - Part II

By Charles Woolley Just what is the bottom line here? Well, in short, the whole world is hopelessly overextended in debt and awash in fiat currencies, since 1971, when the dollar was released from backing by silver.

The interest on that debt is huge, so governments including the US, try to print their way out of debt by issuing large quantities of un-backed (known as fiat) currency.

The dollar you have in your pocket today has been devalued to 4-6 cents of what the dollar could buy in 1900.

In terms of centuries old real money, silver and gold, things are actually cheaper!

In 1900, you could buy a top of the line sporting rifle for a $20, 1 oz gold coin.

Today, if you still had that gold coin, you would still get a top of the line rifle that was more accurate, more powerful, has better metallurgy, and closer tolerances and probably has a good scope as well. If you have a paper $20 bill, you’ll be lucky to get a good box of ammunition now!

In the 1950’s you could by a gallon of gas for a 25 cent silver quarter. Today if you sold that quarter, it would bring about $4.00 for which you can get roughly 1.6 gallons of gas. So in actuality, things are not more expensive in terms of real money such as gold and silver which hold their value over time, but appear to be so when measured by the elastic stretching of the value of the dollar through accelerating inflation and dollar devaluation, which is just another way to steal, not your number of dollars, but their value over time.

Inflation is just another means of taxing you without your realizing it! Right now, with a government stated inflation rate of 3%, (not considering food, heat, water, power, taxes and insurance) and a savings interest rate of .25%, you are losing 2.75% of your buying power by holding those savings! If your budget is comprised mainly of necessities with perhaps an 8 – 10 % current inflation rate, you are being seriously hurt by inflation.

It is obvious that the rate of theft by the various financial manipulations of government, banking interests, Wall Street and the ultra rich has accelerated markedly from 1971 until the present. Will this end badly? More than likely. Will there be hyperinflation, social unrest, a massive depression, and failure of government programs and retirement funds? You fill in the blanks, but I would recommend you prepare yourself and your family accordingly.

If/when the dollar is devalued further, what do you think will be the number of dollars required to purchase a loaf of bread, a gallon of gas, heat, electricity, the taxes or rent that allow you to stay in your home, and in fact all essentials of life?

Think about it. In an emergency situation, how long could you last comfortably with what you have on hand? Would it be 3 hours, 3 days, 3 weeks or 3 months or more?

Perhaps, your savings would be better off invested in tangible preparedness items that can be bought now and then used, not only during an emergency but every day as the inflated price in dollars rises.

In future articles, we hope to be able to help you answer some questions on ways to prepare yourself and family in case of disaster. In many cases, you can even save money, beat inflation and live a more comfortable life by utilizing certain preparedness measures. Keep well and warm we’ll see you next month.

6

THE ROOT CELLAR

Sanders County Preparedness Day

By Judy Woolley How prepared are you should something go wrong, say, your refrigerator quits working; you lose your job; the cost of food triples; you experience a flood, a fire, a prolonged power outage; you no longer have a truck to get up in the woods for firewood? Will the transition to your new circumstances be easy, or overwhelming? Is there something you can do NOW to ease your future? Yes, there are many simple decisions you can make today to help you through anything that might arise in the future.

One action is to sign up for the Sanders County Preparedness Day that will be on February 20th at the Plains VFW at West Lynch.

Numerous subjects will be covered by local people who have been living self-sufficient life styles or are experts in their field, and who are willing to share their expertise.

Topics that will be taught include food storage, gardening and seed collection; water collection and storage; alternative energy methods; shelter; sanitation and personal hygiene; emergency lighting; wildfire defensible space; portable preparedness and go bags; emergency communications and protocols; handling medical situations and meeting common daily needs; money, and important documents; self defense, basic firearm safety; and being aware in social situations to ensure safe gatherings.

Are you interested in saving money on food and seeds? I've been gardening for more than 40 years and can't begin to guess how much money has been saved on produce. While I've had an occasional flop of one crop or another, there's always been enough food for my husband and me, plus generally enough for several other families. I don't know the exact science behind saving any and all seeds but have had pretty good success with most of the varieties of flowers and vegetables I've tried. Helping you to learn from my experience will be gratifying and should reduce your learning curve significantly. I'll have some seeds for you, too.

We've all heard about the shootings in San Bernardino, in churches, in malls. Do you feel vulnerable or blissfully unaware when in public?

Would you rather be fore-warned, by being aware of your surroundings? Have you considered what items are within reach that can be used as weapons should the need arise? Have you considered concealed carry? You can hone your awareness skills easily and will be given tips on rethinking self-defense.

A half dozen people will share their knowledge on the subjects and a number of vendors will be in attendance to show their wares. If you are interested in learning the basics of reloading your own ammunition, there will even be someone to teach that.

We encourage preregistration for the course and is $10.00 paid in advance of February 12th. Lunch is included in the fee and will be provided by the Womens' Auxiliary. Upon receipt of your entry fee, you will be sent a Preparedness Survey that is for your own assessment and should be completed and brought to class.

Registration, at the door, will be $20.00, with lunch and the the survey provided. Advance registrations can be submitted to Clark Fork Valley Tea Party, c/o PO Box 325, Plains, 59859. Let's make a day of it and expand your skill base. See adjacent ad.

7

Business Card Directrory

E-mail: peregrineemb@plainsmt.net

8

PREDATOR HUNTING

Coyote Calling Philosophies

By Paul C Fielder There are many things to consider with hunting coyotes, but I’ll talk mostly about calling coyotes in this article. I hunt coyotes in the open sage brush country of the west. My success goes way down in other habitats, but that’s just me.

I hunt coyotes mostly during winter, because their pelts have value at that time of year if they are handled properly.

I’ll shoot coyotes during other seasons to take a predator out of the food chain and to help ranchers reduce livestock losses. As a retired wildlife biologist, I am confident in the studies and experiences that verify coyotes as relentless predators of many animals that have game or economic value to man. It seems that there is an ample and endless supply of coyotes.

There are many types of coyote calls. Some make sounds like a prey animal in distress, some sounds like coyotes communicating with each other, some are howlers used for locating coyotes, but most are intended to catch a coyote’s attention and make it curious enough to respond. Distress calls work on the philosophy that some animal that coyotes catch and eat is screaming or squalling in agony while being killed by some predator and the coyote wants to get to that spot so it can possibly steal a free meal. Most of my coyote calling success has been with distress calls.

My first coyote call was a hand call that sounded like a cottontail rabbit in distress. When I lived in New York and Kentucky, I used to hunt cottontail rabbits. Sometimes my beagles would retrieve a cottontail that I’d wounded and I heard their distress call many years before I used that sound to entice coyotes to come closer. The next hand call I started using, when I moved west, was a jackrabbit distress call. I found that switching back and forth, from jackrabbit to cottontail, worked well as I moved from calling stand to stand. But with a hand call, I was right there where the sound was coming from.

In the 1990s, I got an electronic predator caller and have hardly used my hand calls since. There are many brands of electronic callers, but mine was a FoxPro with 16 types of recorded sounds and a remote control. The legality of electronic wildlife calls, varies from state to state, so be sure to check your state regulations before using one. Montana allows electronic callers for only wolves and “predators” (defined as coyote, weasel, skunk, and spotted skunk). In 2015, the Governor vetoed legislation (SB334) which would have allowed fox, badger and raccoons (“non-game animals”) to also be taken with electronic callers). My FoxPro has recordings of distress cries of cottontails, jack rabbits, pheasants, grouse, woodpeckers, voles, fawns, does, kitten, and territorial and courtship barks, yips and howls of coyotes, and importantly – a coyote pup in distress call. The remote control allows me to sit in cover and shadows 100 yards away from the call and operate the call’s on and off, type of sound I want to use and switch from sound to sound, and adjust the volume.

I’ll set my FoxPro caller on a short bush (for remote reception) in an area with good visibility and I’ll also set my rabbit decoy where it can be seen near the caller. That decoy is a light weight, foam decoy that I suspend with monofilament from a thick wire that I bend and stick in the ground like an upside down “J”. With the decoy hanging just off the ground, it is free to twist and turn with the slightest breeze. I then settle in to my pre-selected hide downwind from the call and decoy, where I work the call by remote control. When all things work out right, the coyote(s) hear and are attracted to the sound of something in distress. As they approach, their attention is focused on where the sound is coming from and then the movement of the decoy. They are NOT focused on the hunter many yards away hidden in the rocks, brush, or shadows. With this set-up, I’ve never had more than 3 coyotes come in at one time. I’ve shot coyotes stalking to within 6 steps of my decoy. Continued on page 16.

9

SHOOTING SPORTS

Thompson Falls Trap Club Snow ShootMinus the Snow

By Raf Viniard I was headed back through Thompson Falls from delivering publications in December when I saw a sign on the side of the road that read ”Turkey Shoot”. I quickly turned around and the shotguns were popping.

Brain Harwood of Thompson Falls had just one the match called “Five Across” The next match was the “Annie Oakley Shoot” in which there was two winners. Brian Harwood again takes a title and shared it with Michael Hunter of Sandpoint, ID representing “Team Sandpoint”.

But the ladies and the brains of the event were inside where it was warm taking care of the business end of the event. Pictured Left: Jane Legault, Center: Ruth Farrier and Right: Melody Powell. Debbie Hardwood was missing from action but was there to lend a hand as well. These are some of the wives of the shooters that help make this event possible.

Next month we will talk about the Thompson Falls Jr. Shooter Program but for now flip over to page 22 and see if you recognize one of the Jr. Shooters to take an award.

10

MONTANA DAN

The Art of Fur Handling

By Dan Helterline There are not too many things that I love more than trapping predators, but the catch is just the beginning. Any trapper worth his salt is good at putting up the fur he catches and preparing it with pride for the market. This process is not something that one learns over night. It often is learned through being mentored by a salty old trapper, trial and error, and with the modern computer world we live in, a lot can be learned online. There is a huge amount of information on YouTube alone that can be helpful to the aspiring trapper both young and old.

I am constantly looking for new tricks and techniques that will not only make my fur more marketable but will also allow me to be more efficient at getting my hard earned catch to the final stage of a finished product ready for market.

In the space that I am allowed in these pages, I will try to pass on some of the tricks and techniques that have helped me over the years, get the most out of my fur check at the end of the season.

Rule number one, don't trap until fur is prime. Unless you are doing animal damage control work, you won't be accomplishing anything if you harvest your intended fur bearers before the are fully prime. Especially with the current slump that the fur market is experiencing, only the best well put up fur will sell. Currently coyotes are the shinning star of the fur market, there is currently a strong demand for heavy, prime northern coyote, It is being used to trim garments and is in demand worldwide. I will typically start my coyote trapping around Halloween and by then coyotes seem to be fully prime. It then becomes a race to see how many I can catch before the ground freezes, making trapping with footholds more difficult.

By the time bobcat season opens, the spotted cat is prime and good to go for fur harvest. The market for bobcats has steadily softened over the past couple years, but big nice colored cats are still in demand. Rule number two, harvest your fur in a manner that will minimize any pelt damage. This will save you time in the fur shed and help produce a better product in the end.

I dispatch my coyotes and wolves with a shot to the heart-lung area with a .22 caliber rifle, it is quick, humane and usually produces little blood. The hole that a .22 cal produces is small enough that the furbearers long hair covers up any sign of a hole and once any blood is washed away the hole isn't noticeable. My bobcats I dispatch with a catch pole and when used correctly the cats can be dispatched quick and humanely and without a bullet hole and any blood.

Some of the tools of the trade!

Once you arrive back home with your hard earned catch, it's time to begin the fun part, skinning.

Animals are always much easier to skin while still relatively warm and not allowed to stiffen up, this is why I try to get everything skinned first thing, if possible, when I get home. For my canines I've built a “skinning machine� at the front of my garage, this takes a lot of the physical work out of the pelting process and saves wear and tear on your hands. I don't have the space to go into how it works, but it is just one of the many helpful things that I have found by surfing around on YouTube. I quickly brush out the animal before skinning to remove any burrs and foreign debris in the fur. Continued on page 14.

11

NEXT GENERATION Top Left: Alexis Helterline checks traps with her Dad, Dan Helterline. Something tells me she will be running her own trapline soon and be sporting a nice bobcat or wolf fur coat.

Three pictures below across center (left to right): Brent Bauer of Plains with a spike for the freezer and a nice spring gobbler.

Rumor has it Bridger also got a turkey but picture has not made it to us yet. Right: Bridger with a nice spike by two. These boys are soon to be guides or outfitters. Thanks Doug and Serena for bringing these boys up in the woods and on the water. I don’t think they can become any more country boys than they already are!

These boys parents are: Serena Wachsmuth and Doug Bauer both of Plains, MT

Pictured Above: Tate Stinnett, with his son Cade Stinnett and Adrian Nass and his side kick Cricket. Cade has graced this publication again.

Cade congrats on a beautiful cat. Cade and his Dad were out late the night before trying to retrieve one of the dogs but Cade was back at it the next morning. Thanks Tate and Amy for sharing.

12

Pictured Above: Jake of Superior, MT with his hard earned first cat. Tate Stinnett , George Nass, and Rob Yoder thanks for helping this young man get his first cat. Publisher’s Note: I have hunted with this young man and he is ADDICTED to hunting. Congrats Jake!

LOCAL CELEBRITIES Left to Right: Dan Helterline, Sami Jo Kinzie (with cat), Jeff Rude and Jake Firestone all of Plains, MT. Congratulations Sami Jo, that is one pretty cat. Awesome picture.

Photo taken by her Dad Richard Kinzie.

Dan Helterline with wolf number four (4) and a dog pile. Dan is a long line trapper and is featured monthly here in Montana Woods N Water. See his article this month on fur handling on page 11.

Publisher’s Note: As I walked around Dan’s shop taking pictures for his article it was filled with furs and the tools of the trade. Dan is a very talented trapper and outdoorsman and we so appreciate him sharing his knowledge and adventures.

13

Jerry Boquist of Heron, Montana with a Montana Shiras Moose of a life time. This was a public land moose and was taken up near the Yaak. This moose had a 48 inch rack and rough green scored 153.

Jerry said he is still overwhelmed from the experience. Congratulations Jerry!

MONTANA DAN CONTINUED Once skinned all my pelts go to the fleshing beam where all of the fat and unwanted tissue is removed from the hide. I use a commercial grade fleshing knife and once mastered, the fleshing process becomes fast and relatively easy ,which helps produce a much nicer finished product.

After I've fleshed all my pelts that were skinned that day I wash almost all my fur in a sink I've installed in my garage, this will remove any blood and dirt and help give the finished fur an all around better appearance. There are several shampoos available at ranch supply stores such as Murdock’s that are designed to help show animals appear whiter, I use one that is sold for horses and really like the way it makes my finished fur look.

Once thoroughly washed I wring out as much water as possible, I then a put them in a old cloths dryer I've installed in my shop. They are then tumbled on low heat with some old towels until close to dry. I can usually do up to half a dozen coyote hides at a time and when they are removed from the dyer they are usually ready to stretch. I will usually stretch them immediately or if I'm crunched for time or stretcher space they can be rolled up fur side out and froze. I can then take them out of the freezer at my leisure to stretch as I get time or stretchers become available.

One of the keys to well put up fur is to have a variety of good stretchers that will fit a variety of furbearers in different sizes. Not all animals are the same size so it takes several stretchers sizes to cover your bases. My coyote, fox and wolf pelts I like to use wooden expandable stretcher that I make out of cedar while my cats go on what I call a hybrid stretcher. The top portion is made out of a heavy wire raccoon stretcher that transitions into expandable wooden legs on the lower half. I've found that these “hybrid� stretchers give you the maximum length on your cat pelts and when selling bobcats, length is money. Most long haired furbearers are started on the stretcher hide side out and then turned after the proper amount of drying, usually about a day, then turned and finished fur side out. I will rub a little Borax into trouble spots like under the arms and around the ears to ensure that they dry properly. Great care must be taken in this step because if the skin is allowed to become too dry during the initial drying, the skin can be ripped while turning them, resulting in damage to the pelt.

After turning, the pelts are placed back on the stretcher and tacked back down to finish the drying process. After I am satisfied that the skins are sufficiently dried they can be removed from the stretcher and stored until you are ready to market them. I like to store them in a cool location with good air circulation. They can be given a final brushing at this time to totally finish them.

This year I will ship only my coyotes and bobcats to be sold at action in Canada, with current demand for other furbearers like fox, timber wolf and badger low, I'm opting to have them professionally tanned and market them on my own. There is a good demand for tanned fur to be sold to willing buyers for decorative purposes but that is a market the trapper must develop on his own, but once established can be lucrative. I love being in my garage when it's full of finished fur, fruits for all of my hard labor that creates a tremendous amount of personal pride. Good luck with all your fur harvesting and take the time to correctly put up your hard earned fur, in the end it's worth it!

14

SPORTSMAN’S MEDITATION

The Red Rose

By Pastor Jim Sinclair Hard to believe but it’s another new year, Christmas is behind us and we’re all ready to settle in for the new year. Not long ago we were heading into town, it was one of those sunny clear cold days, as we were driving we rounded a corner and suddenly I couldn’t see the road, at all, the sun was blinding me, you know what I’m talking about.

The visor comes down and you squint as hard as you can and can barely see. You just kind of follow your instincts and just as fast as it came you can clearly see again.

I remembered a story about a guy who followed his heart because it was the right thing to do. There are so many voices anymore that can lead us astray. The story goes like this...

John Blanchard stood and straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station.

He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn’t, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.

In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner’s name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn’t matter what she looked like.

When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting – 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York. “You’ll recognize me,” she wrote, “by the red rose I’ll be wearing on my lapel.” So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he’d never seen.

I’ll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. “Going my way, sailor?” she murmured. Almost uncontrollably, I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell.

She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate.

My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.

“I’m Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?”

The woman’s face broadened into a tolerant smile. “I don’t know what this is about, son,” she answered, “but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!”

So what’s it all about, when you can’t see and life is blinding you follow your heart. Proverbs 4 :23 Keep thy heart with all diligence; For out of it are the issues of life. (ASV)

Keep livin the life Pastor Jim. 15

LOCAL CELEBRITIES CONTINUED Continued from page 9 –Predator Hunting by Paul Fielder I’ve had coyotes race each other to the set-up and I’ve seen coyotes start out as a light colored blur racing toward the set-up from a ½ mile away. Coyotes have good hearing and pin-point where sound come from really well.

When multiple coyotes come in, and I shoot one of them, I immediately switch to the “coyote pup in distress” call. This sounds like a yipping dog that’s been hit by a car or otherwise injured. As the un-shot-at coyote is racing for safety, it will often stop and hesitate during this pup-in-distress call to see what happened to its partner.

You’ve heard the saying: “he who hesitates is lost”?

I stay longer at a calling set-up after I stop calling than most people do. I figure that I’ve already invested time and walking to get to that “good spot” so what’s a little more time. Often, 20-30 minutes after the last distress call shrieked from my caller, I’ll see a coyote sneaking in to investigate what happened, now that the area is silent. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it works on coyotes too.

16

TONY REBO UNLEASHED

By Tony Rebo Well ice fishing is in full swing, and I am hearing reports of big fish being caught. I had early success in the Yaak and caught some nice brook trout. I had a few as large as two pounds. Most if not all the lakes in Lincoln County have frozen over. McGregor Lake should be frozen over by the end of January.

The Thompson chain of lakes is rock hard and producing fish. The most productive reports are coming from the Noxon area and Martin Bay. Pike as large as 20 plus pounds are being brought up through the ice. I also saw a photo of a 10 pound plus rainbow that was caught in the triangle pounds just west of Noxon. So get out there while the fishing is hot!!

While the guys and I were sitting around our favorite watering hole and swapping fish stories, our conversation turned to the discussion of which year was the best year that any of us could remember for ice fishing. Of course the years varied from the beginning of time when Moses parted the sea to last year when my wife caught the big brook trout that is proudly displayed on our wall. For me it was simple, my best year was 1988. In December of 1987 the temperature was brutally cold and we had a cold snap of minus 20 for over two weeks. So in January of 1988 our big lake froze over. It has only happened a few times and when it does it is just glorious. Lake Koocanusa was frozen over and the salmon fishing was hot as ever. Back in those days the salmon were much larger than the ones you catch there today. It was very common to catch 18 to 22 inch salmon. The limit was 20 fish per day, and that could be accomplished in under thirty minutes if you were fishing during the time a school of salmon moved under the ice.

1988 was a great year, my daughter was born in November of 1987 and she was growing like a weed. My wife and I had two beautiful children, the oldest being a boy and now a daughter. My wife and I were very content with the outcome and decided to do our part on controlling the world’s population. I just didn’t realize that my part was so much more than hers. That Friday’s doctor visit went as planned and I walked or was wheeled out a gelding. I was given instructions to take it easy and relax, and to use the frozen bag of peas as needed.

Saturday morning rolled around and I was feeling pretty chipper. My Father-in-law was talking about going fishing and taking his dad as he was in town visiting. Heck, I couldn’t be the party pooper and not tag along. It is years in between the lake freezing over, and besides I promised to take it easy. So the day turned into a guy’s day out, and I drug along my son who was almost four years old. We had all the normal gear for a day on the ice with the exception of Bob. Bob is known throughout my home as the infamous ice auger. Bob was a gift from my son a few Christmas’s back. Bob has been a life savior and has drilled as many or more holes than most augers twice his age. Bob is a two pull kind of a guy. Back in 1988 Bob didn’t exist and I was forced to use a hand auger, a nasty tool that is to be used only when required.

Old School!

17

TONY REBO UNLEASHED CONTINUED Now because of my current condition I was forced to have my father-in-law pull all the gear out onto the ice, and in the gear included a lawn chair. I was told to park it in the chair and relax. Now I have to tell you the walk out onto the ice was about a quarter of a mile and it wasn’t that much fun. I no longer felt bullet proof and my legs turned to rubber as I reached my sitting destination. No big deal though as I would have the day to just relax and re-coup. There were about 35 to 40 other fisherman out on the ice and my younger brother was one of them.

My brother is known as Uncle Buck, and yes the description fits. He is a big kid, strong as a bull ox and just as bold. Buck volunteered to drill our holes and help me into my lawn chair. He promised to help keep my hook baited with maggots, and help to keep an eye on my four year son.

My brother had drilled me four holes, in the perfect square formation. The square was about 4 foot by 4 foot. I was able to place my lawn chair directly in the center of the square and could easily fish from any of the holes. The fishing started off slow and we would only catch a fish every now and then. My son grew tired of this sport very quickly and decided to focus on the sled we used to haul all of our things out onto the ice. He asked if he could pull it back to the shore and sled on the hill. You bet, that was a reasonable request and he would be in eye sight and leaving me to fish.

Fishing began to pick up and as a large school of salmon moved under our holes ,everyone was pulling fish up onto the ice. This is why you have four holes, when the salmon move in under the holes you just hand line the fish in and then try to get another line back down as fast as you can. This is how you catch a limit of 20 in less than 30 minutes. Now the first school produced a good number of fish and I was just a few away from having a limit, but when the fish move out the bite is gone and the catching of fish is over. So we all wait for the next school to arrive. During this waiting time is when all the men count what they have and start to compare stories. It just so happened that the air was silent of voices until one fisherman said in a loud voice “Hey check out that kid up on the hill above the road”.

That was when I turned and noticed that everyone was standing and staring back towards the shore. Up on the hill above the road stood a four year old boy and a sled. The four year stared at the feat before him and was well aware that he now had a crowd watching as he tempted to sled down an embankment across the road onto another hill and out onto the ice. He even raised his arm to the crowd and listened for the roar, which at this point came from me. What was he thinking, just the day before I had a surgery because I had all the children I would ever need? Now I was going to lose one and have to have the surgery reversed and start over. I bolted from my chair in hopes of stopping him. I am pretty sure I ran at least 50 yards before I passed out face down on the ice. The whole time I had the country song from Johnny Cash echoing in my head, “Don’t take your guns to town son leave your guns at home Bill, don’t take your guns to town”.

Why didn’t I just leave my guns at home? I had a pack of frozen peas.

I heard the sound of the sled and the scream from the thirty men on the ice. It all blurred together but sounded something like this. Oh my god, there he goes. Crap he cleared the road did you see how much air he got? Wow just missed that rock, ooh hit that one. I think the sled is in two pieces, no wait I think that is his leg, and then it was silent. The small battered boy was down on the ice with the sled coasting out from the shore line. Everyone stood in silence, when the small child sat up from inside the sled and yelled “Hey dad do you want a turn”?

I gave my brother instructions to tie him to my bumper and leave him there until I caught my limit. Nope instead he brought him back to me. By this time another school of fish had arrived and everyone was back at catching fish. My son also turned his attention to the task and was helping to catch my limit.

Now I have had my share of bad days where nothing seems to go right, but today is the reason why I said this was the most memorable day ice fishing ever. The Koocanusa is a big body of water, well over 80 miles long and in some spots over a mile wide. It has depths over 300 feet. When a pressure crack happens it sounds just like thunder. The first pressure crack was just to my left and my four holes burped plenty of water as the air pushed its way to the surface. The second pressure crack was under my feet and took my four holes and made them into one large hole. Too bad I was sitting in the middle when it happened. Down I went into the ice water. I was lucky and caught the edge and only got waist deep. My brother dragged me back onto the ice yelling to grab the fish that were sliding back into the four foot hole.

After the dust settled I lost my tackle box and about half of my fish. My son was super excited about that though as we now had this huge hole to fish in, oh and try to jump across. Why would a 4 year old think he could jump a four foot hole? I was totally having my doubts about having my surgery and that I needed to get back and have it reversed as the child before me was clearly marked for death.

When we arrived back home my son couldn’t wait to tell his mom about his day. Clearly he had the best day ever. Mine; well it was one I will never forget.

My wife asked if there was anything she could do and I replied “Please pass me the peas”.

18

ANGELA MONTANA

Four Sportsmen Start the New Year Chasing their Dreams‌and Canines

By Angela Montana A New Year’s wolf hunt adventure started in Missoula on December 31st. There were four hunters, two new to hunting wolves (who were also celebrating their seventh anniversary as husband and wife), and two veteran wolf hunters and trappers, all hoping to fill their wolf tags.

At approximately 0530, the four of us piled into the truck and headed to the Bitterroot valley, driving for approximately two hours or so until we arrived to our first destination. The temperature warmed up from below zero but remained in the single digits that morning. We spotted a herd of a few hundred elk at the base of the mountain, and we thought we could potentially intercept some canines working their way to those elk from the wooded area on the south side of the Left to Right: Crystal Gordon, Billy Gordon and Jason Maxwell. mountain. The FoxPro Shockwave we used for some calling got us a response that morning--and that proved they were at least in the area. We chose to hike to a ridge that overlooked most of the area, cutting through timber and working our way above the elk we saw on the way through the bottom. Unfortunately, no canines were spotted or heard while Billy and Crystal Gordon, of Billings, and I trailed behind Jason Maxwell, of Missoula for a couple of hours total. We howled from the top, hoping for another response, but we did not hear anything back. We weren't giving up!

We headed back down after some time at the top and, again, were hoping to cut some fresh tracks, but we did not. There were a ton of elk and deer and tracks, though...of course, because the general season was over.

We made it back down to the truck and drove to a spot that overlooks a huge amount of open land and tried calling again--with no luck. But, it was all good, we had a few other places to check out. Being early afternoon at this point, we decided to secure our cabins for the evening, being that it was New Years Eve. We started at Lost Trail Hot Springs Resort, and they informed us their cabins were booked, so we checked out the Sula Resort cabins. It turns out that they had two cabins available...but, their teepee was reserved--yes, a real teepee that somebody rented. Talk about right up my alley--these cabins were perfect--at least to me they were. Less is more in my world, and if there's no TV and a rustic feel, I'm happy. We wanted to give Billy and Crystal (if you're wondering, yes, they have heard the "Billy Crystal" references :-D) a unique cabin experience for their anniversary.

We headed back out again to another area not too far from where we heard the response that morning, and tried calling again while scouting for any sign of fresh tracks. When we made it to the top, we spooked a coyote, that I didn't even see, but he was only there for a flash, and none of us got the chance to get a shot at it. That was one lucky canine. The good thing? There were dogs in the area! We were pretty pumped after that and went down to the bottom of the draw to see if we could find where it came from or where it was headed. We never did see that coyote again, though. But, we weren't giving up!

It got dark and we ended up heading to a formal brothel--the Rocky Knob--where we had some delicious food and a cheesecake dessert. After that, we made our way to Lost Trail Hot Springs for some soaking in the pool and then in the hot tub. The hot tub conversation ended up being great, as there were two supporters of wolf hunting in there, too, who had a lot of questions about wolves and wolf hunting and trapping in the state. That is Jason Maxwell's favorite topic, so he loved every second of that conversation. The next morning, we woke up to the temperature reading -18. Not too long after that, as the sun brightened the sky, it dropped to a whopping 23. But, we weren't giving up!

Another drive back to the place we were the previous day showed us that there had been no canine activity there overnight, as the elk were still lazily bedded down on the hillside. I referred to them as couch potatoes. They definitely didn't have a care in the world. We did a few more howls with the FoxPro and decided to check out another different part of the Bitterroot valley. Continued on page 20.

19

ANGELA MONTANA CONTINUED After an approximate hour drive, we made it to the other area, and there were definitely some tracks there. We decided to stop and check out some tracks, and Billy and Jason scrambled down the hillside to see if a canine was leaving its wake in the snow.

It turns out the tracks that were there were from ungulates. Just elk and deer...unfortunately. Note that the temperature was at about 8 degrees now, so that is a 31-degree temperature increase. It was like a heat wave to us at this point! And, we weren’t giving up!

Moving on from this particular area, we decided to head about 90 miles northwest. There is a known pack in the area, and we knew of people who had seen wolves on their property around there. Billy and Crystal chose to go wolf hunting with us for their anniversary, and by golly, we were going to do everything we could to try and deliver--We weren't giving up!

Making it to the new place and covering at least 50 miles of land in the area, we didn't find wolf tracks right away, but we did find somebody looking for "Shawna's" house and another group of misplaced people requesting a ride to their campground. Maybe “Shawna” knew where the wolves were?

Finally, moving on to another area, we found canine tracks! We couldn't get the dogs to talk, but there was a lone wolf traveling a road we came across for some time. Those animals sure are elusive. I think that is why it is such a rush when we see tracks and hear them talking-you know they are close...or at least were close.

Unfortunately, we lost the light of day, and our wolf hunting adventure was over. We stopped at Alberton's River's Edge Restaurant for some grub and reminisced about the day. (pictured bottom right) Although we did not actually see any wolves, get a shot at any coyotes or come home with any animals, we had a fantastic adventure! I realize that people who tend to not fill their tags as often as they would like say that it is all about the hunt and not necessarily about filling the tag more often, but let me make it clear that every single one of us would have LOVED to fill a wolf tag. We had a great time talking about what we would do with our wolves if we had gotten ours, but oh well. Good company, good memories. What a great way to ring in the new year--smack dab in the middle of a Montana wolf hunt. Special thanks to Billy and Crystal Gordon and Jason Maxwell for an amazing beginning to 2016. Next time, there will be no missed coyote shot opportunities--I think we all agree on that! Happy anniversary to two of my favorite wolf hunting partners, and happy new year to my favorite sportsman!

20

NEXT GENERATION CONTINUED Dawson Cady wanted his first buck to be a Muley. On November 7, 2015 he got his wish. The hunt started with hiking over 2 miles in the high country, with his dad, Steve Cady. They spotted a herd of mule deer and the stalk began. Dawson placed his shot at 100 yards with a .243 Ruger, a gift from his Grandpa Bill. He made a perfect lung shot. The deer ran 50 yards and it was done. Since, it was a back country buck Dawson gained some experience at deboning an animal. He helped pack his deer and said "that was a lot of hard work".

However, he was glad it happened the way it did.

Dawson still smiles when he tells the story of his first deer.

21

Shooting Sports Continued‌

Darby’s fish!

Underneath those dark shooting glasses is Trey Fisher one of the winners of the Spring Turkey Shoot. Students from ages 12 to 18 years old may participate in the Jr Shooter Program. Contact Cliff Farrier for more information at 406-827-9889.

Manly Men Bond Fire

By Raf Viniard Every year The Church On The Move which is located in Plains, Montana gives all the old donated Christmas Trees a proper burial. The event is held at the wood yard each year and is a guys only event. This year the church provided hot dogs, chili and all the trimmings. Bundled from head to toe everyone waited for the grand finale.

Each year the attendance gets bigger and bigger. There were as many kids there as adults this year. The base fire was a little slow to get started but with a few ounces of gogo juice it came alive. Once the fire was going it was time to stand up a 20 foot wooden chimney. Within seconds flames shot from the top of the chimney illuminating I think the entire city of Plains.

So what is this event about...men of all ages getting together socializing and fellowshipping. It is a mingling event with things being talked about such as hunting, fishing, fixing the farm tractor, cattle, the kids and watching to see if Ken Saner would blow himself up lighting his sawdust gun.

No alcohol is involved even though I got some strange looks and questions about my can of Red Bull. Long Day! 22

Photo Contributed by: Sanders County Ledger.

Photographer: Ed Moreth

SPORTSMANS MEDITATION TOO

Following Through

By Pastor Cam Foote—Troy, MT Baptist Church As a pastor of a small church in Western Montana I am accustomed to people missing church services come Sunday morning during the hunting season.

It was a week before the general rifle season when Jim, Rick, and I spotted two nice bulls and a handful of cows while scouting for opening day. If things worked out it would be our best chance to kill an opening week bull, so we backed off the skyline trail up the north fork of O’Brien Creek and headed home.

As opening day drew near Jim asked me what my plan was for those bulls and I said that I couldn’t go until Monday because I had to preach on Sunday. Jim was the youth leader at our church and he asked me if I could get someone to teach the youth for him on Sunday morning so he could make it up the mountain by daybreak of opening day. I told him I could, but that it wouldn’t be a very good example to set for the youth in his Sunday School class. He agreed and decided to wait until Monday morning to go after those bulls. Sunday came and went, and on Monday we made it to the trailhead early and headed in. After several hours of hunting we had decided that those elk had moved out of the area when we spotted a man on a road below us pushing a wheelbarrow. We dropped down to see what he was doing only to discover that he was loading up one of the bulls we had spotted a week earlier. He had shot it on opening day!!!! I was sick, how could I explain to Jim that God would honor his commitment to be faithful when it appeared that he had obviously missed out on a great opportunity to fill his tag?

I told Him that God had a plan for him to get an even bigger bull and the next day we would go to a spot where he had killed a six-point bull the year before. The next day we went in and all we saw were cows, now I was really sick. By this time I was pretty desperate and realized God was also testing my faith as well, so I suggested that we could go down to Thompson Falls where I had a cow tag and I would share some meat with him from my cow.

Jim had to work so we had to wait until later in the week to go out again. Finally, the day arrived and we headed to Prospect Creek. After several hours of hiking I was able to track and kill a big cow. We had just finished boning her out and placing her on our pack boards when a bull squealed right behind us. Jim told me to lay down and he ran across a small opening to grab his rifle and was able to get off a shot before the bull bolted. Later, as I recalled the thrill of the hunt, I told him that when you honor God with your commitments the bulls bugle you in!!!!!! Today, because of his commitment to the Lord and His faithfulness, Jim is now the pastor at the Mountain Baptist Church in Noxon, Montana.

Hebrews 10:25 (KJV) says, “Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another, and so much the more as ye see the Day approaching.”

23

KIMO & DIEGO

Introducing

The Adventures of Kimo & Diego The Big Black Wolf By: The Starving Artist Daniel Brown Beyond the woods, beyond the seas, beyond the high mountains lives a talented and skillful hunter by the name of Kimo, in the company of his trusty “Ol Huntin Dog”, Diego whom he treasures as a member of the family. While the frosty Montana morning chill slowly faded into a cold wet dew, they leisurely sat at the river’s edge waiting for the dawn colors to peak and couldn’t help but feel blessed to witness such Montana splendor.

With a rush of impulsive adrenalin Kimo and Diego swiftly shifted their attention to the east, anxiously observing some movement. A notorious, dark and ominous shadow was breaching the daybreak’s soft rays slicing the dense verdant timber and thicket several hundreds of yards away. Huge western red cedars, hemlocks and cottonwoods absorbed nearly all the direct sunlight with their expansive canopies.

Wild wondering wolves in this part of northwest Montana can easily weigh over 100 pounds. This particular prodigious wolf was pitch black in color and well over a buck and a half in weight.

The forest fell silent as if being inhabited by a powerful evil presence. Kimo and Diego stared fear in the face. Were they the ones being slyly stalked? The hunter is usually the one pursuing the prey. With his trusty dog unwaveringly by his side, Kimo whispered to Diego, "Well, old boy…the hunt is on.”

With gun in his hand, God and Diego on either side...Kimo could see the cunning black wolf trying to gain a position of strategic advantage. They begin to plan their own stealthy strategical plan that would turn the table on this apex predator and bring them within shooting range of their foe. The wolf was a satisfying sight for them to see, and for a brief time they calculated the untamed canine's movements as well as the menacing and foreboding terrain they would have to traverse to get within ethical shooting range.

The raven black wolf then ponderously creeped from the tree line, his thick black pelt rippling in the cool crispy morning breeze. The impressive alpha male shook off the morning dew, the insignificant drops appeared as tiny rainbows of shattered glass, shimmering in the morning’s new light. The wolf quickly glanced up to check his surroundings and licked his lips revealing his deadly white canines.

Teeth that only his last quarry truly could relate. His black nose was coal black, wet and shiny to match his coat. His nostrils worked back and forth as he sniffed the air for foreign odors or breakfast.

Before the morning sun broke the tree line, the wind turned westward and started to violently blow mixed with a cold miserable rain. The wind seemed angry that day... like a senior citizen sending back a bad bowl of soup at a cafe. Continued on page 25.

24

KIMO & DIEGO CONTINUED When the black figure had reached the fringe of the forest it stood frozen with its eyes locked forward; Kimo and Diego in lock step froze as well and held their breath, expecting the midnight black figure to vanish into the darkness of the dense woods forever. Had they been seen or smelled?

Legends serve as a valid warning not to enter forests where wolves were known to live. In the old days, both wolves and wilderness were treated as enemies of humanity. To Kimo’s surprise, the audacious wolf tranquilly proceeded along the edge of the timber for what seemed like donkey years, scent marking, barking, growling and howling, then he slowly turned and sauntered in their direction. Each soul-searching footstep brought the defiant and unafraid wolf closer to Kimo and Diego. As if suddenly dog-tired, the wolf stopped just out of range adjacent to a large rock outcropping and sat on its haunches staring at them letting it be known he was “The Alpha Male.” As Diego looked through his binoculars he could see the wolf’s yellow eyes trying to cut through his soul like the cold trying to get through his jacket. The wolf’s focus was with precision and his attention was that of a soldier.

The black wolf with the grace of an eagle quickly ascended a dodgy knoll with a sharp turn and disappeared. Deep within the shadowy forest the wolf-pack pride picks up their Alpha's song, and they all begin to howl together - loud and long. To Kimo and Diego’s ear the howling was the music of Montana Wild.

Will Kimo & Diego bag the “Big Black Wolf”? Stay tuned next month and see!

Please Welcome our newest member of the Woods N Water team.

Daniel J Brown.

Daniel is a Freelance Storyboard Artist, Writer, Single Panel Comic Creator, Graphic Designer and Mural Artist from America's Great Northwest. He has an Uncanny Ability to Tell a Story using Images and Short Bursts of Succinct yet Impactful Words.

Daniel has also been Drawing and Coloring on Walls for over 50 Years, just ask his Mom! He is our new monthly Cartoon Illustrator.

He also offers all types of Wall & Ceiling Murals as well as 4x8 Paintings of Wildlife in their Natural Settings. From Magnificent Forest Animals to African Beast's and SeaScapes to LandScapes.

Daniel refers to them as WALL-SCAPES. They are Created in Acrylics and/or Airbrush. (See ad to right).

Daniel started Drawing Animals and Landscapes back in the Early 60s and has never slowed down. He has always wanted to Create Wildlife or Nature Related Art for a well known Publication.

So, we want all of our Devoted Readers to Welcome Daniel, and on behalf of everyone here at Montana Woods N Water, we hope you will have an Amazing time working with us and are really glad that you’ve joined us. Welcome aboard!

25

!!WANTED!!

ICE FISHING & PREDATOR HUNTING PICTURES WANTED FOR FEBRUARY ISSUE! DID YOUR KIDS GET ANY NEW GUNS FOR CHRISTMAS? LETS SEE THOSE PICTURES OF THEM SHOOTING! Send to: Raf@montanawoodsnwater.com 26

MOUNTAIN MEMORIES

It’s Just In The DNA!

By Carol Cady My how time flies. Digging stuff out for an article and looking at all the pictures from days gone by, I realize memories might fade but pictures don’t lie and oh the stories they might tell.

We had a little saying in our house growing up while debating the next days activities.

“THERE ARE BEARS TO SHOOT AND FISH TO CATCH AND MILES AND MILES OF ROADS TO COVER”! Winter time didn’t change that much with the exception of the “bear” part of it.

This picture was taken about 1993...the dogs treed a lion on Amy’s Siefke property close to town. While taking this picture the dog knocked me down.

Two old pictures of my Dad and the furs he trapped in about 1932 in the Star Meadows near Whitefish, MT. Trapping, hunting and fishing is in my DNA. As a child about 8 years old I remember spending a lot of time in the Star Meadows fishing during the summers.

One thing I remember vividly was the mosquitos.

My Dad Bob Wilson.

Thanks Dad for all your patience, wisdom and sharing your love of the outdoors with me.

27

Brandt Nass of Plains, MT with a couple of nice Pike he pulled through the ice. Brandt I bet your mother loved you?

28