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Showing posts from November, 2013

Thanks…..For One More (Nice) Day

One more trip to the creek yesterday.  It was blowing hard in Livingston.  To my delight, it was still when I arrived at the "Big House" to sign in for the day.  The "DePuy door greeter" was on hand to welcome me as I rang the bell.  This sheep, the last of several, was the sole survivor of a mountain lions mutton quest.  Betty informed me that the sheep didn't venture far, and spent a good deal of time looking in the window.  

I set up shop at the lower cabin.  My previous visits had been to the two upper ones.  It's good to move around and keep tabs on the different sections of the creek.  The conditions are changing constantly, much like the seasons. 
Fire building skills came into play.  I know, it's tough wadding up newspaper, adding kindling, and tossing in a match.  It's a simple pleasure, and one that I look forward to.  An event that will be repeated many times over the next several months.   

Cabin time would be minimal today however. The…


Got leftover turkey?  Ok, who doesn't?  Or rather, who won't?  What to do?  There's a limit to the number of turkey sandwiches that one can eat.
I usually make a pot of gumbo.  For a change of pace I decided on some jambalaya (we celebrated Thanksgiving early due to work considerations).
The range of recipes and variations is endless.  Here's how I did it.  A little more, or a little less of any ingredient is ok.  This isn't rocket science, but it sure tastes good.  Main thing to remember, once the rice is added, don't screw with it!  Just simmer (slowly) until the liquid is absorbed.  You'll end up with a nice non-sticky rice dish where all of the grains are recognizable.  As opposed to an amorphous blob of yuck.

Cooked turkey (meat from two legs) - works good with leftover game birds too
Polish sausage (Hillshire Farm or similar) 1/2 cup chopped
Smoked ham (optional - but I used meat from a couple of ham hocks)
Green pepper -  1 & 1/2 cu…


I never was much of a horse person.  I liked the idea of horses.  Riding them?  Screw it, I'd rather walk.  I know girls like 'em.  Me and my bony butt, not so much.  My knees never appreciated it either. Family jewels?  There was a time or two that I uttered a higher octave.
I once spent a summer employed by the Forest Service.  It was the best summer of my life. As a range wannabe, horses were part of the deal.  Uncle even tried to teach me how to throw a diamond hitch.  Thinking this to be my eventual calling, I bought a book.  Horse Packing in Pictures.  Great idea.  Kind of like painting by numbers.  My packing career never got past the looking at the pictures stage.  I gave it away to a friend who has horses and mules, and, who actually does some packing.
I once met a guy who resented being called a "cowboy."  He was a "horseman."  He had a cushy office job.  Really?  Poking around, I discovered that horses are said to respond to horseman, they react…

The Last Best Day

Yesterday, Tuesday, with the temperature forecast for a toasty sixty plus, I had to make a run over to the Paradise Valley. I tried on Sunday, but gave up after a couple of hours.  Truth is, I spent most of the morning sitting and watching.  Lots of mallards.  Muskrats too.  Quite a few anglers. Not much surface activity by trout though.

This day, I'd try to hang in there for the full day.  Maybe take a break mid-day. Take off the waders. Stretch.  Today would have to last.  We likely wouldn't see sixty in southwest Montana again anytime soon.
It was twenty-six at the house, forty-three and blowing like hell in Livingston, and twenty-six at the Big House on the pond at DePuy's when I arrived a little after eight a.m.  The pond was still, fish were rising.
I drove towards Eva's, a warming hut on the lower part of the creek, but stopped on the edge of the field.  A small whitetail buck was out walking the fenceline, likely looking for a girlfriend.  The binoculars were h…

A Pleasant Pheasant Saturday

We got away for a few hours on Saturday.  The dogs needed work.  We needed exercise.  The forecast looked pretty good.  Getting to pheasant country in Montana often involves sitting in a vehicle while driving hundreds of miles.  That luxury was not ours.  So we did the next best thing, we went the route of the shooting preserve.  Considering fuel and time and the condition of my back (there is no such thing as a comfortable seat, in any vehicle), it was a good choice. We'd been to Sanborn's before.  Handy, nice cover, good birds, pretty views too.
Emma was the first dog to hit the field.  She settled down after the obligatory initial craziness.  We encountered quite a few birds that had survived hunts from previous days.  They were cagey and flushed wild.
Now, pheasants and pointing dogs are not a match made in heaven.  Play fair?  You gotta be kidding. Even released birds have a survival instinct that's second to none.  Springsteen wrote the song, pheasants wrote the boo…


Okay, some times you feel like a nut.  This crappy little image is of a sign that's posted in one of the angler's huts at DePuy Spring Creek, Montana (click on it and the fine print may be readable).

I drove over the hill a couple of weeks ago and picked up a winter pass.  That was the extent of the foray.  I was in no shape to fish.  After a brief stretch on one of the picnic tables, I drove home.  I'm hoping to get back soon.  The pox is with me.

Along the Way

A few weeks ago, while driving back from the Grande Ronde….we stopped at a roadside rest area in Kooskia, Idaho.  There was a covered kiosk that told the history of the area.  It was pretty neat…..

The fact that fish swim so far... and continue to return... and some, few, wild stragglers remain... in spite of "mitigation"... is simply amazing.