You speak my language…… although I’ve never met you I feel like we’re friends from the depths of your writings. This is going to be epic! This put my mind in historical movie mode, and that is greatly appreciated. Remembering the outdoor experiences introduced by my parents that started my passion for them as a kid, and continues to this day🇺🇸
I’m edging close to 69. I have a good friend, admittedly met through our shared relationship with wine, who is almost 80. We’ve often discussed the pedestals which both our fathers occupied in our youth. I wish every boy could feel the same.
The last thing my father ever said to me, six days before he passed away in March 2024, in a nursing home at age 97, was “We sure had a lot of great times together”. He had just finished reflecting on our signature hike in the Grand Tetons in the summer of 1970. I replied in the affirmative. Can’t ask for anything more than that.
Outstanding first effort! Best of luck on the new gig.
Thank you for sharing that. And for the compliment.
August will be ten years since Dad's passing. He was still going afield with me in around 2009.
A story about his tangle with a concrete bollard at a boat ramp in the dark at 5:00 a.m. in my brand new truck is in the cards. "Forgiveness and Perspective" is the working title.
And thanks for laying down the first official comment on Totemtik, and for being a long-time supporter of environMENTAL, too. Much appreciated!
Beautifully written! We had similar experiences growing up, but my with own being on the salt-water rivers, bays and sounds of coastal VA and NC, where my father taught me how to fish, crab, clam and work the tides!
I'm a 1965 model myself, and am blessed to have enjoyed the celebration of my father's 91st birthday just yesterday, with my 19 year-old son joining in as the 3rd generation present.
Thanks for such a moving piece, looking forward to all the rest!
Oh there's going to be plenty of salt water stuff, too. Florida Keys, 1970s/1980s. Scuba diving, blue water light tackle (was cast netting my own ballyhoo standing on the gunwale of a 25' Mako in 6 foot seas for live baiting sailfish on 12 and 20lb spinning gear at 15) and backcountry fly-fishing for bonefish with Dad. All that is coming, Brother!
The bird hunting starts with a lifelong friendship made in college at 21. That's when the fishing mostly stopped until 4 years ago in Wyoming.
Lots of old pics will accompany these stories. And some new ones as well. Lots from Argentina the last few years.
I hope you enjoy. Thanks for all your support of both pubs!
In the quiet of nature, not that nature is quiet if you listen, you can really reconnect with your inner self. The early morning sitting listening to the birds chatter, the squirrels endlessly argue, with the network small nature sounds in the background over a hot beverage, heven.
Since I retired at the end of last February, I spend at least one day each week by myself in the mountains with a fly rod, a thermos of peach sweet tea made daily, and a ham sandwich. Sometimes two.
I park the truck and walk remote streams. Nobody around. I stalk fish, slowly, quietly, most of the time never bothering to pull the fly of the rod's catch until I've located one (or more) feeding.
Some days I never catch a fish. And am not the least bit deterred. To have made it to this point in life with this many experiences, passions, and still the drive and legs to do these things is all that matters.
I will spend a stupid amount of money again in Argentina this June to hardly harvest any ducks, doves or perdiz. A couple each session. Then just taking it all in, taking lots of pictures, and plenty of video of my son for his own posterity some day.
I am filled with gratitude. To Dad for imbuing my life with the outdoors very young. To a wife who doesn't *tolerate* this life, but encourages it. To a son with whom I've spent now 15 years sharing experiences he will remember long after I'm gone. To clients in a career in the environmental space who were grateful for my service and as loyal as any Labrador retriever you ever met. To friends like Gerry (Saskatchewan) and Tomas (Argentina) and others you'll read about for being more than people who took the fruits of my labor to guide me, but became true friends, with whom I stay in touch weekly despite only seeing them once each year.
It's been a great life. If this writing somehow inspires one Dad to do the same for his son or daughter that mine did for me, it will have been a smashing success.
My grandfather gave me a cane pole when I was 7. When I was 8, he decided to show me how to use it. I spent my life trying to read water. Woods. The sea.
Ours were trips to cattle ponds stocked in the '40's for mosquito abatement that the panfish, large and smallmouth bass had never seen a worm or artificial lure before. My grandfather taught me to never ignore just where that collected water came from in the northern California hills. I honestly can't remember how many times 10' of monofilament and Panther Martin tucked by the hook in my hat, brought surprise and a couple $20 bills, from those that swore - There's no fish in here.- as well as lots of Brookies and Cutthroats.
And several is the time I've been reminded we as humans are not always at the top of the food chain. Usually when I was hunting something else, I noticed rather alarmingly, that something may be hunting me as well.
Looking forward to more of this and if you haven't read - Take It Outside on Substack, by Alice Jones Webb is in the same vein.
I guess I'm fairly recent to it. I started reading Unlicensed Punditry by Michael Smith a couple years ago. A FB Friend, a guy of like mind that I've never ad the opportunity to look in the eye, nor shake hands with, posted one of Michael's essays and I was hooked.
Over the last year or two, I've picked up and dropped a few. An online suspension, commonly called Facebook jail got me looking at creating a Substack. I'd been encouraged by a few friends in emails that maybe I should put some stuff out there and it caught on a little. Much thanks to Michael for the recommendations.
Was always a faithful Field & Stream, Outdoor Life reader and that lead to some Massad Ayoob, Jeff Cooper, and others on hunting and shooting. Honestly the only writer I can remember on fishing is Randy Wayne White, who has a Marion "Doc" Ford, thriller series. His writing on sharks and Florida fishing are engaging as hell.
I've been considering doing some strictly outdoor type writing myself, and/or a semi-fictional, in "Dragnet" style, changing the names to well, I don't always have other's permission to mention some of the exploits I've witnessed, or been a part of. If memory serves, I've mentioned my love of the outdoors and a few of the lessons it's brought to my life in my own Substack. A hunting trip or two where only memories were made. A couple interesting times of little boats on big water, with foul weather.
I do miss bird hunting, though I did manage a couple grouse hunting ventures this last season. i don't walk like I used to and keeping up with an energetic dog is kinda embarrassing, for the dog I guess. Me? Not much left of my pride anymore, and my fishing is from a boat these days instead of wading streams. Did get a few nice salmon off the big lake, Gitche Gumee, the last couple years.
I'm still looking for those like you that sort of mirror my own POV. Finding it harder to do these days. I guess a lot of the newer generation doesn't understand the difference between conservation and environMENTALism, right. It's about stewardship, respect, and a way of life I fear is disappearing.
My stuff goes by the handle, Observations Of A Reformed Rebel. Though lately, my laptop has been a tad schizophrenic. Sometimes in the middle of writing, the screen will blink and the train of thought is no more. No saved draft. No recovery. just gone. Kinda like a massive whitetail buck in the fog.
Wonderful - this brings back similar memories for me. I will bring out my Grandpa’s bamboo fly rod this spring . Thanks for this and look forward to future articles!
Lovely memories, thanks for sharing. Will follow your Substack with interest.
Thank you. Appreciate your support!
You speak my language…… although I’ve never met you I feel like we’re friends from the depths of your writings. This is going to be epic! This put my mind in historical movie mode, and that is greatly appreciated. Remembering the outdoor experiences introduced by my parents that started my passion for them as a kid, and continues to this day🇺🇸
Thanks, Dave. I hope you enjoy the stories.
Please pass along to some of our like minded bird hunting friends!
Already did that.
Much appreciated!
I’m edging close to 69. I have a good friend, admittedly met through our shared relationship with wine, who is almost 80. We’ve often discussed the pedestals which both our fathers occupied in our youth. I wish every boy could feel the same.
The last thing my father ever said to me, six days before he passed away in March 2024, in a nursing home at age 97, was “We sure had a lot of great times together”. He had just finished reflecting on our signature hike in the Grand Tetons in the summer of 1970. I replied in the affirmative. Can’t ask for anything more than that.
Outstanding first effort! Best of luck on the new gig.
Thank you for sharing that. And for the compliment.
August will be ten years since Dad's passing. He was still going afield with me in around 2009.
A story about his tangle with a concrete bollard at a boat ramp in the dark at 5:00 a.m. in my brand new truck is in the cards. "Forgiveness and Perspective" is the working title.
And thanks for laying down the first official comment on Totemtik, and for being a long-time supporter of environMENTAL, too. Much appreciated!
"How it had shaped my relationship, not just with birds and bird dogs and fish, but with the environment, how I valued it, and my place in it."
Priceless. It explains everything about your ability to write so beautifully. Keep up the good work!
Thank you so much for your support.
Truly. 🙏
Beautifully written! We had similar experiences growing up, but my with own being on the salt-water rivers, bays and sounds of coastal VA and NC, where my father taught me how to fish, crab, clam and work the tides!
I'm a 1965 model myself, and am blessed to have enjoyed the celebration of my father's 91st birthday just yesterday, with my 19 year-old son joining in as the 3rd generation present.
Thanks for such a moving piece, looking forward to all the rest!
Much appreciated!
Oh there's going to be plenty of salt water stuff, too. Florida Keys, 1970s/1980s. Scuba diving, blue water light tackle (was cast netting my own ballyhoo standing on the gunwale of a 25' Mako in 6 foot seas for live baiting sailfish on 12 and 20lb spinning gear at 15) and backcountry fly-fishing for bonefish with Dad. All that is coming, Brother!
The bird hunting starts with a lifelong friendship made in college at 21. That's when the fishing mostly stopped until 4 years ago in Wyoming.
Lots of old pics will accompany these stories. And some new ones as well. Lots from Argentina the last few years.
I hope you enjoy. Thanks for all your support of both pubs!
Beautiful work so far, keep 'em coming!
And as a PADI Certified Divemaster who's been to pretty much every wreck off the coast of Hatteras, I look forward to those SCUBA entries.
In the quiet of nature, not that nature is quiet if you listen, you can really reconnect with your inner self. The early morning sitting listening to the birds chatter, the squirrels endlessly argue, with the network small nature sounds in the background over a hot beverage, heven.
Since I retired at the end of last February, I spend at least one day each week by myself in the mountains with a fly rod, a thermos of peach sweet tea made daily, and a ham sandwich. Sometimes two.
I park the truck and walk remote streams. Nobody around. I stalk fish, slowly, quietly, most of the time never bothering to pull the fly of the rod's catch until I've located one (or more) feeding.
Some days I never catch a fish. And am not the least bit deterred. To have made it to this point in life with this many experiences, passions, and still the drive and legs to do these things is all that matters.
I will spend a stupid amount of money again in Argentina this June to hardly harvest any ducks, doves or perdiz. A couple each session. Then just taking it all in, taking lots of pictures, and plenty of video of my son for his own posterity some day.
I am filled with gratitude. To Dad for imbuing my life with the outdoors very young. To a wife who doesn't *tolerate* this life, but encourages it. To a son with whom I've spent now 15 years sharing experiences he will remember long after I'm gone. To clients in a career in the environmental space who were grateful for my service and as loyal as any Labrador retriever you ever met. To friends like Gerry (Saskatchewan) and Tomas (Argentina) and others you'll read about for being more than people who took the fruits of my labor to guide me, but became true friends, with whom I stay in touch weekly despite only seeing them once each year.
It's been a great life. If this writing somehow inspires one Dad to do the same for his son or daughter that mine did for me, it will have been a smashing success.
Dude. I mean damn man.
My grandfather gave me a cane pole when I was 7. When I was 8, he decided to show me how to use it. I spent my life trying to read water. Woods. The sea.
Ours were trips to cattle ponds stocked in the '40's for mosquito abatement that the panfish, large and smallmouth bass had never seen a worm or artificial lure before. My grandfather taught me to never ignore just where that collected water came from in the northern California hills. I honestly can't remember how many times 10' of monofilament and Panther Martin tucked by the hook in my hat, brought surprise and a couple $20 bills, from those that swore - There's no fish in here.- as well as lots of Brookies and Cutthroats.
And several is the time I've been reminded we as humans are not always at the top of the food chain. Usually when I was hunting something else, I noticed rather alarmingly, that something may be hunting me as well.
Looking forward to more of this and if you haven't read - Take It Outside on Substack, by Alice Jones Webb is in the same vein.
Great color. Keep it coming, Dude.
Will check out Take It Outside fer sure.
Who else do you like on Substack re: outdoors, in particular, hunting and angling? Do tell.
I guess I'm fairly recent to it. I started reading Unlicensed Punditry by Michael Smith a couple years ago. A FB Friend, a guy of like mind that I've never ad the opportunity to look in the eye, nor shake hands with, posted one of Michael's essays and I was hooked.
Over the last year or two, I've picked up and dropped a few. An online suspension, commonly called Facebook jail got me looking at creating a Substack. I'd been encouraged by a few friends in emails that maybe I should put some stuff out there and it caught on a little. Much thanks to Michael for the recommendations.
Was always a faithful Field & Stream, Outdoor Life reader and that lead to some Massad Ayoob, Jeff Cooper, and others on hunting and shooting. Honestly the only writer I can remember on fishing is Randy Wayne White, who has a Marion "Doc" Ford, thriller series. His writing on sharks and Florida fishing are engaging as hell.
I've been considering doing some strictly outdoor type writing myself, and/or a semi-fictional, in "Dragnet" style, changing the names to well, I don't always have other's permission to mention some of the exploits I've witnessed, or been a part of. If memory serves, I've mentioned my love of the outdoors and a few of the lessons it's brought to my life in my own Substack. A hunting trip or two where only memories were made. A couple interesting times of little boats on big water, with foul weather.
I do miss bird hunting, though I did manage a couple grouse hunting ventures this last season. i don't walk like I used to and keeping up with an energetic dog is kinda embarrassing, for the dog I guess. Me? Not much left of my pride anymore, and my fishing is from a boat these days instead of wading streams. Did get a few nice salmon off the big lake, Gitche Gumee, the last couple years.
I'm still looking for those like you that sort of mirror my own POV. Finding it harder to do these days. I guess a lot of the newer generation doesn't understand the difference between conservation and environMENTALism, right. It's about stewardship, respect, and a way of life I fear is disappearing.
My stuff goes by the handle, Observations Of A Reformed Rebel. Though lately, my laptop has been a tad schizophrenic. Sometimes in the middle of writing, the screen will blink and the train of thought is no more. No saved draft. No recovery. just gone. Kinda like a massive whitetail buck in the fog.
Good color. And I like the metaphor at the end.
I'll check out some of those. Thanks!
Wonderful - this brings back similar memories for me. I will bring out my Grandpa’s bamboo fly rod this spring . Thanks for this and look forward to future articles!