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The Twitchell Canyon Fire

The Twitchell Canyon Fire

When I first visited the burned area it looked like a bulldozer had gone down the middle of the stream. It was completely full of gravel. There were no fish. There were no pools. This was my first taste of what we were dealing with.


Perfect moments

Perfect moments

I’m not sure how either one of us made it down that slope without a broken ankle, nor who was more excited, me or the dog, but after retrieving the bird we both sat down for a good twenty minutes to catch our breath, admire the bird’s beautiful plumage, and enjoy what I’ll always remember as a perfect moment.


Backcountry fishing at its finest

Backcountry fishing at its finest

I would like to invite you to think about making your own adventures in the backcountry, though not all at once, I might add, because there is nothing better than feeling that you are fishing an untouched lake or moving in on an elk bugle that actually came from an elk.


Tagging toads at night

Tagging toads at night

Boreal toads are more active at night, so we’ll be surveying breeding sites after dark using headlamps. Food and sleeping arrangements at one of our remote cabins in west Box Elder County will be provided! The work typically does not end until after midnight.


The best turkey hunt ever

The best turkey hunt ever

All of the sudden we found ourselves surround by turkeys! As a couple of hens ran off, we heard the thunderous GOBBLE-GOBBLE of the tom wondering why the hens were leaving him. We watched as he strutted by just out of range and fed up over the hill. We quietly slipped out and set up in this draw again the next time out.


Masters of the mountain

Masters of the mountain

I am still amazed at the acrobatic nature of mountain goats. You can see them jumping from rock to rock, climbing up the slick, steep cliffs without a problem. It’s of little wonder that predators don’t target them very often.


The hunt of his dreams

The hunt of his dreams

As the alarm went off, I remember thinking just five more minutes! But, I could hear the commotion of the hunting party layering on the camouflage. I honestly don’t think Dakota slept that night.


The familiar tug of a hooked fish

The familiar tug of a hooked fish

I felt the solid hit and pull of a fish after setting the hook. I played him with my reel and he was large enough to take some line as he made his runs in his effort to escape. Within a few minutes, I had him to the boat. After a quick photo op, I released him. I felt great — I’d just landed my first fish of the season.


Keeping the family hunting tradition alive

Keeping the family hunting tradition alive

Joshua put his hands over his ears and motioned to Isaiah to do the same as I set the hair trigger on my 50-caliber muzzleloader. Within seconds after the smoke cleared, the animal stopped running and it was over. The boys were beside themselves. The look on their faces was one of excitement and sheer joy.


Like father, like son

Like father, like son

I, meanwhile, popped away at the birds with my little single shot Savage. Miss after miss followed. “Man,” I said to myself, “these ducks are hard to hit!” Finally, a big drake mallard flew straight at me. I shot, and it fell. What a thrill!


“Can you help me? There’s a bear on my boat.”

“Can you help me? There’s a bear on my boat.”

The dogs were leashed, the tranquilizer gun loaded and the bear was injected with anesthetic. Just before passing out, the cub decided to make one more rush for freedom. He plunged off the boat into Lake Powell, swam a few yards and then went limp.


Bring on the bats!

Bring on the bats!

Everyone was eager to not only see these mysterious creatures up close, but to touch and even smell the furry little flyers. Seeing everyone in the dark was difficult, but characterizing the mood of this group was easy: Bring on the bats!