The Greatest Gift of All

Now this article is going to sound like somebody paid me to write it, but I swear on the Holy Bible they didn't. I just wanted to give credit where credit is due. About 10 years ago, my father bought me a Leatherman for Christmas. I thought it was a great gift because it was something I could use. Every outdoorsman I know owns a Leatherman or two, and if they don't they're missing out. Leathermans are wonderful tools, and I carry mine with me whenever I go fishing, hunting, plinking or make a run to the dump. It's just an excellent all around tool. I keep the one my father gave me, right inside my front door in a special place where I can always find it. Like a trusty friend it waits for my call. In fact while writing this article I looked up to make sure it was still there, and much to my surprise it wasn't. I checked the top of the piano where I lay my wallet and 9mm pistol. I started to go into that panic mode where your mind starts racing and your trying to remember the last place you used that object you're feverishly searching for. Then I laughed. I looked over towards the laptop and the there it sat. The Leatherman was right next to the Toshiba I have been typing on. The reason my Leatherman was sitting next to the computer was simple. It's my birthday and I'm enjoying a few Spaten Optimators. A delicious German dark beer that's been around since 1397. Wow, a beer that's been around for centuries. The Leatherman has assisted me in opening the last couple of Optimators, which in turn, helped me forget that I was using the Leatherman in the first place. Good things stick around. I'm sure the Leatherman, just like the delicious Spaten Optimator, will be around for centuries to come. My leatherman has gutted fish, cut ropes, crimped chains, and pulled nails. My Leatherman has helped me sight in my hunting rifles, cut fishing line and even removed the hooks from many a Northern Pike's mouth. To state the obvious--It really is the perfect compliment to any man's belt. This summer I almost lost my trusty friend. I was shore fishing at Fernan Lake, near Coeur d' Alene Idaho, and I had parked the Jeep at one of my favorite turn outs, on the east side of the lake. I popped the back hatch open so I'd have easy access to my tackle box for quick lure changes, until I figured out what the fish were biting on. Well somewhere during the tackle changes, I left my Leatherman on the bumper of the Jeep. I finished fishing and drove home. Lucky for me the Jeep has a ridged bumper that magically holds things you leave on it. I made a right turn as I approached my house and I heard a weird clanging sound on the pavement. "What was that?" I thought to myself. "Must have run over a piece of metal or something?" I got home, unpacked my fishing gear, and then went to the Jeep to grab my Leatherman. It wasn't there. "Oh crap! I must have left it on the bumper." I was bummed. There's no way it could have survived the ride home on my bumper. Not on that road with it's multiple twists and turns. I couldn't believe it. After all these years my Leatherman was gone."Not my favorite tool. Not the one my Father gave me 1o years ago." Then it hit me. "That sound! That metal clanging sound I heard was probably my Leatherman." That's right, I had left it on the bumper of the Jeep. I drove down the block and there it was. My favorite tool sitting in the middle of the road waiting like an abandoned child for somebody to save it. My heart was relieved. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. "It's just a Leatherman!" Oh but it's not. This tool holds special meaning to me. It's the one my father gave me for Christmas 10 years ago, not to mention it's been a real friend for the past decade. I was relieved to find it, and promised myself to be more careful with my little friend. If you, or anybody you know is looking for the perfect gift to give this coming Christmas remember the Leatherman. Any Leatherman tool is a real joy to own, and there's a reason you don't find them at garage sales or second hand stores. If you do, snatch it up quickly. The Leatherman is simply the perfect tool, and a real asset to any man's arsenal of tools that make life more bearable.

Try Our Rub "Backwoods Blend"

Master Chef Mark Freber, owner of the "The Fresh Spice Market," has designed and put together a magnificent blend of herbs and spices especially for us here at Backwoods Views. This "Backwoods Blend" is 100% natural just like the wild game you'll be preparing and is guaranteed to make your taste buds quiver with delight. Give our "Backwoods Blend" a try and you'll be amazed at the flavors you've been missing. Great as a rub or for marinating. You can call Mark or Heather at (208) 704-4596 and they will be glad to fill your order. Make sure you let them know that you learned about our spice on The Backwoods Views Journal for a 20% discount on your order. TRY IT--YOUR FAMILY OR CUSTOMERS WILL THANK YOU!
"The Fresh Spice Market" is open Monday through Saturday 10am until 5pm Pacific Time. If you're passing through Post Falls, Idaho stop by and tell them Chris at Backwoods Views sent you. The store is located at 615 East 6th Street Suite E--right next to Walgreens on Seltice way. (Visa and Mastercard are accepted.)

The Young and The Elderly

Some of the best memories I have, and I do mean memories, are taking my 7 year old nephew fishing, as well as my 82 year old Grandmother. I stress the word memories because, looking back, it's easy to see the beauty and pleasure in such fine day spent with family. However, a day on the water with the young or the elderly isn't always such an easy task, and I do have to admit my patience has been tested on more than one occasion. Don't get me wrong I love my nephew like he was my own, and Granny and I are the best of friends. Make no mistake, it takes a special kind of demeanor (which I often lack) to teach the young and re-teach the elderly. I laugh now thinking about the day my nephew fell into the lake after I'd already warned him multiple times to stay away from the edge. He slipped onto his butt and rolled into the frigid April water. It was shallow, but it sure woke him up. I snatched him from the water as quickly as he'd entered, and then came that primitive sound that breaks the serenity of any spring outing. He cried loud enough to draw in any predators making their residence in the woods for miles around. I quickly got his wet clothes off, and wrapped him in a blanket. Our little adventure was over as soon as it had begun. I assured him he would be alright, shook my head, fired up the old Ford, cranked the heater, and we were homeward bound.

Now Granny, she's a different story. She used to be a fishing fool. I know this because I've heard stories. Lots of them. In fact I think I've heard the same stories at least a dozen times each--possibly more. She still loves to fish, but has a harder time getting around than she did just a few years ago. I usually cast for her, and she reels in the line. I don't get much fishing in but that's okay. I've got plenty of time for that, on my more serious outings. When Granny is with, I spend a significant amount of time baiting her hooks, switching her lures, removing the fish, or untangling the rats nest that seem to form magically on her spool after only a few casts. That's okay though it's the quality time with family that counts. Right? No my friends, fishing with the young or the elderly is not for the faint of heart. The picture above is from a day last spring when I got brave and really wanted to see what I was made of. I brought my nephew and my grandma on the same outing. Let's just say it was an adventure that involved a lot of running back and forth. Yeah, I did cheat a bit by bringing my brother Jesse along as back up. I wasn't quite sure if I was ready to handle it all by myself. Good times were had indeed. If you don't believe me I dare you to try it! Double dog dare you!

Good Intentions Bad Idea!

Here is a picture I took of a guy who had great intentions, but was walking the fine line between helpful and becoming another park statistic. This Bison calf was separated from its mother and this nice gentleman thought he would guide the calf across the road towards its mom on the other side. I watched in disbelief, thinking trouble was just around the corner. He got the calf going the right direction and momma didn't realize what was happening. If she had, I'm thinking this Gent may have been on the next life flight chopper out of there. When visiting a National Park, it's wise to let nature run its course and leave the animals and their survival up to themselves and Mother Nature. A fine example of great intentions and one heck of a BAD IDEA! And no the man is not President Bush Sr.

Solitary friend

Do you know solitude?
The dictionary defines solitude as the
1. state of being alone: the state of being alone, separated from other people, whether considered as a welcome freedom from disturbance or as an unhappy loneliness
2. remoteness: a quality of quiet remoteness or seclusion in places from which human activity is generally absent
3. lonely place: a remote or uninhabited place
When a person spends time in the great outdoors they get to experience all of these definitions and more. Everybody spends time alone; that is a given. It's the lucky that get to enjoy and suffer the unique solitude that only a mother nature can create. When is the last time you went for a walk in the woods alone? When's the last time you've crept up free flowing mountain stream with only solitude as your company? I cherish these moments alone in the mountains. I've walked miles in that vulnerable state of loneliness, and have come to enjoy both the anxieties and the natural highs that come from those experiences. I remember a day when I was elk hunting alone in a dark secluded forest. I focused on the small things to ease the tension that is sometimes felt when walking the woods alone. I noticed the mushrooms, the flowers, and the unique designs of each shape and shadow that lay before me. I listened with intense devotion to the chirping birds and agitated squirrels as I made my way through the woods towards the bottom of a draw I'd never visited. I broke the silence with my cow call and then quickly discovered I wasn't alone after all. No sooner did I finish the last note of my call, when the feeling of solitude was broken and multiplied at the same time. Branches broke and a grunt came from behind me. It was a bull moose following my "cow in estrous" soaked clothing. ( I know spraying oneself with "cow in heat" is not considered a safe practice, but I'll tell you for a fact that it's definitely effective) He made his way towards me and I then had to decide how to deal with that pesky monster. He stepped into the old logging road about 70 yards away staring directly at me. I decided I didn't want to deal with the curious love sick fellow so I climbed up a steep bank into a thicket and watched. He stood there awhile staring down the road while I waited on his next move. He figured out I wasn't moose or a friend and after a few tension filled moments he pushed his way down into the creek bottom below me disappearing for the day. I enjoyed the rush that his presence created for me, and I soaked up the experience cataloging it right next to the other encounters with the might beasts I've known. Solitude yearns to tests your spirit and your fortitude. Solitude longs to teach you to rely on yourself, and most importantly she reminds you of how insignificant you really are in those vast unforgiving places. Head to the woods alone sometime and experience all the pleasures and anxieties that only the woods can create. Sit on a mountain top and admit to yourself that you are small--nothing but an ant in the yard of life. The sheer size of the mountains and trees should make you feel small. When you feel that, you'll understand how lucky we humans are to have loved ones and a warm dinner waiting for us at home. How lucky we are get to sleep in a comfortable bed, and how lucky we are that God above has created such solitary places for us to come to an understanding about our place in this world. We are part of nature! Not just observers like too many of the tree hugging, anti-hunting urbanites feel we should be. They seek shelter in the cities, with their friends, fashionable trends, and other easy to come by distractions and gadgets. They attempt to run, scrape, and scramble--desperate to escape from the true meaning of life. Go ahead and run. Run till you can run no more--but realize that your attempts are futile. Loneliness always wins. She knows no bounds. I suggest you face her. Get to know her moves, and embrace her like a trusted friend; though she may be your enemy. Solitude is the outdoorsman's teacher. She forces us to accept the things that are out of our hands. She urges us to see that God is in command and to get to know him. Solitude will teach you to appreciate those powerful and memorable days spent with the ones you love. Solitude can't hurt those who know the power of love, family, and faith. When your content with yourself, Solitude quickly becomes a welcome friend. but only after you've learned how to stop running from her. Face her, open your arms, and give her what she wants. A slow dance.

Montana Meatball Stew

Here's a dandy right from the ranch.
The perfect meal on a cold winter's night.

Ingredients:
--1 and 1/2 lbs. freshly harvested venison
--1 cup soft bread crumbs
--1/4 cup finely chopped onions
--1 egg beaten
--1 tsp salt
--1/2 tsp butter
--1/4 tsp thyme
--2 tbsp cooking oil
--1 (10.5 0z) can of tomato soup
--1 (10.5 oz) can of beef broth
--4 medium potatoes peeled and quartered
--4 carrots cut into 1 inch cubes
--8 small onions coarsely chopped
--2 tbsp chopped parsley

Cooking Instructions:

Combine first 7 ingredients shape into 24 meatballs.
Brown meatballs in oil over medium heat making sure not to burn them
Remove from oil as they brown. Combine tomato soup and beef broth in large saucepan
along with potatoes, carrots and onions.
Bring to a boil then cover and simmer about 30 minutes or until vegetables are tender.
stir in parsley and serve.

Serve up with bread sticks and your favorite brew. Curl up by the fire
and dream of tomorrow's hunt.

Simple Backwoods Jerky

Grab 2 lbs. of ground Venison from your meat cache
Place the venison in large glass bowl
1 tsp of Liquid Smoke--or as much as you see fit.
Add enough Worcestershire Sauce to make the meat moist but don't over do it.
2 to 3 tbsp of Soy Sauce.
cover with garlic powder or fresh minced garlic (not garlic salt!!!)
cover with onion powder
sprinkle liberally with favorite season salt--I like Johnny's All purpose or Alpine Touch.
sprinkle with lemon pepper
sprinkle well with black pepper
I like to add a little jalapeno salt for a little kick.
MIX WELL by Hand then cover bowl with plastic wrap.
Let mixture sit overnight.
REMIX before placing in jerky gun or patting out strips--important
Get out your dehydrator and place meat in strips on the racks.
I like rotate the racks after the first couple of hours and flip the jerky strips
I let mine cook overnight but the cooking time will vary and depends on your dehydrator and your preferences.
Note* Use your oven at a lower heat for a few hours if you don't have a dehydrator
This recipe is delicious and virtually impossible to mess up.
You can add other ingredients to the recipe if you like but don't get carried away the salts.
Sit back and enjoy one of life's simple pleasures--fresh homemade jerky.

The Black Ghost

In the fall of 2002, I decided it was time to start hunting Black Bears. I'm not sure why, but I became pretty obsessed with the idea of harvesting such an incredible beast. I began my subscription to Bear Hunting Magazine (which I stil proudly receive today) and began to research and study the mighty Ursus Americanus. It was in September that my brother Jesse and I decided we'd give it a try. We headed east of Coeur d' Alene, Idaho to Fourth of July Pass. There is a never ending supply of National Forest lands to hunt, and we thought we might walk some old logging roads and stir something up. We drove about 5 or 6 miles north of I-90 and found what looked to be a suitable location for a walk. We left the vehicle around 3 pm and slowly made our way down the dark and lonely logging road. There were thimbleberries growing thick on the sides, and down to our left was a dark cedar forest. I had a strange feeling about that place. I could almost sense something in our presence. As we rounded a corner, not more than 500 yards from our starting point my brother and I thought we heard a whining noise. It was similar to the tones of the nasal voiced Bob Dylan mixed with a lamb. Whaaa, Whaaaa. Hmmmm? "There's something here!" I said to my brother. I looked up the hill and said "This spot is dark and looks like perfect bear territory." "There's got to be a bear around here somewhere." Just then it happened. There was a huge crash and thump as a creature came out of tree. It sounded like somebody dropping large rocks to the forest floor. My brother shouted "Bear, Mountain Lion something!" We listened as an animal tore through the woods away from us breaking branches and covering ground. We were then surprised to hear a tremendous woof, chomp, and growl. We knew now that it was a bear, and that it had probably just sent its cub or cubs away and was ready to destroy what ever had interrupted its relaxing evening in the tree. It continued to chomp its teeth, growl and moan from less than 35 yards away. We quickly retreated down the road about 4o yards just in case the bear decided to come at us. I aimed my gun down the old logging road and waited. It was silent. My heart was pumping so hard I thought it was going to pump right out of my chest. Like an idiot I began to imitate a bear cub bawling---whaaa, baugggghh, bauuughh. The bear was silent. We crept up to our original position, picked up some sticks, and tossed them over the thick brush into the dark woods where we'd last heard the animal. Crash! The sticks hit the ground, and the bear erupted into a tantrum of busting brush and growling. It was definitely agitated. I could hear the faint sounds of foot steps as the bear began to move to our left. My brother and I paralleled the bear at 30 yards separated only by a thick line of thimbleberries and impenetrable brush. I found an opening in the trees and raised my 7mm. Right then it happened, my first sighting of a black bear. I was in shock. She was like a big black silent ghost as she passed through my cross-hairs at 30 yards. I didn't pull the trigger. You can't shoot a sow with cubs, and due to the commotion that came from initial encounter we knew there were other bears with her--most likely cubs. Like only an adrenaline fueled rookie bear hunter would do, I wanted to get closer. We crept slowly into the tangled underbrush, guns raised, hearts beating, and eyes scanning. Waiting, at any moment, for the monster to show herself. The woods were silent and getting dark fast. My nerves were rattled and I could no longer handle the tension. We knew the bear was close, but how close? We would soon find out. I shot into the ground a few feet in front of me to scare her off. The brush exploded less than 20 ft away and we heard her rip up the hill heading for safety. What a rush. She was waiting for us. I was charged with adrenaline, and I loved it. As we walked back to the Jeep, my brother and I laughed and talked about the fine adventure we just had. You can't get that from a movie, or a book. You have to live it. It was glorious. After the adrenaline wore off, I thought about how nutty it was that I was bawling like a cub, or that we went into the brush after her. The fact is, we did, which made the outing that much more memorable. That's the best part about bear hunting. They're smart and unpredictable. Though a bear is generally timid and quick to retreat, one just never knows what's going to happen when they enter the domain of the Great Black Ghost--Ursus Americanus. Happy Hunting!

Make Mine a Double

Two years ago on September 21, 2007 I shot my first Turkey. It was a hen. I was heading out to go bear hunting when they happened to cross the road. I'm not one to pass on opportunity so I parked my jeep walked down the hill and killed my first turkey. I was happy but not as happy as I would have been if I had been out hunting them purposely. She was delicious nonetheless. Well this spring like many before I headed into the field with high expectations. I love the spring woods. The green grass, the smell of life, and the feeling of the whole new season laid out before you. What will this year bring? During the second week of the 2009 spring season, April 30th to be exact, a friend and I made our way to one of my favorite hunting spots south of Coeur d' Alene Idaho. We slowly made our way down to some clearings where the potential for a turkey encounter was very possible. I called on my slate call and was pleased to hear the response of an eager tom. We made our way down a logged out area and set up. I called and the birds answered. As the sounds of their gobbles became louder the anticipation grew. My friend gave a few strokes on his call and the birds were going wild. My eyes strained looking for a big ole tom to appear. Then it happened "Gobble, Gobble, Gobble" not 2o yards behind us in the thicket. The tension was almost too much to handle. Then nothing. They gave us the slip and left us pondering what went wrong. That's hunting. They must have spotted us or heard something they didn't like. Well that was the beginning of the day. Still time for a lot more hunting. My buddy and I both had to leave the woods around 10am and head for home due to prior engagements. I picked up my Grandma and took her to her doctors appointment and then gave her an offer she couldn't refuse. "Granny do you want to go hunting?" "Of course!" was her reply. I took her for a drive and though we did come across a bird it quickly disappeared into the creek bottom never to be seen again. After our afternoon drive, I dropped her off at home and decided I hadn't had enough. I went back to the spot where my friend and I had hunted earlier that day and made my way down to the same place where I'd started the day. I walked and called and nothing. I sat by an old apple tree, and called some more. Nothing. Then it happened. After calling for about 20 minutes, I heard that sweet symphonic sound. It was music to a turkey hunters ears. I called again and I got a quick response. The hunt was on. I grabbed my trusty Remington 870 and headed in the direction of the gobbles. I called for 20 more minutes and the birds kept responding but wouldn't budge. I decided I would cut the distance and slowly worked my way to them. As I approached a logged out clearing they gobbled again. "They're close now!" I sat up on the corner where the old skid trail met the clearing. I knew I'd have shot if they kept coming. I called and they went ballistic. The sound echoed through the timber. I called again, they were on their way. I couldn't see the birds yet, but new they would appear at any moment. Then I saw them. Two red heads coming right at me. My gun was ready, my adrenaline pumping. "I can't believe this is about to happen" I thought to myself as I raised my gun and waited. The birds walked right down the old skid trail searching for what they thought was a hen. They had no idea that a predator was waiting. One bird walked past my shooting lane and into the open where he locked eyes on me. I was frozen and couldn't move fearing they would flush. As luck would have it the other bird stopped directly where my gun was pointed through the trees. I held the front sight on his head and squeezed the trigger. The bird dropped dead and I let out my uncontrollable primal scream. My first successful turkey hunt. It was a jake with a 2" beard but I couldn't have been prouder. I field dressed my prize and headed back to the jeep. I went to Granny's house and she took pictures. It was a day to remember especially after so many years of no success. Oh but wait, it's not over yet. A week later I headed back to the same spot. It was a rainy day in May and I relished the idea of getting a second bird. It wasn't long before I was into birds again, I spotted one on the closed road about a mile into my walk. I set up and began to call but the birds were not impressed and skirted my position by 60 yards. I tried to cut them off and they pulled a fast one on me strutting and laughing at me as they headed for the hills. I headed back to the Jeep excited that I at least saw the birds. Then I had an Idea. Maybe they're heading back to the same spot I killed the jake last week. I made my way back to the same spot and set up. The birds were going crazy and were only 20 yards away, below a small shelf that I couldn't see over. I strained and strained and finally I saw a patch of white. It was like a flower had appeared in the grass. But in the center of the flower was that thing a predator learns to notice. It was an eye. A turkey's eye staring right at me. I slid down a little lower for a better view and the bird lifted his head. I squeezed the trigger and the birds went flying. One to my left and one to my right. I jacked another shell and headed towards the bird I shot at. He ran away and then turned to my left at less than 20 yards, visibly stunned from the first shot. I followed it up with a quick head shot and my second bird was dead. I couldn't believe it. Two birds exactly a week apart in the same location. Amazing. The second bird was a bit bigger than the first and sported a nice 8 and 1/2 inch beard. I was pleased beyond belief. I took the birds to Tim's Custom Meats in Coeur d' Alene and had them smoked--delicious. My perseverance paid off and I ended my spring season with a mile wide grin. Any guesses where I'll be hunting next spring?

Why I Hunt

Hunting is natural. When I'm hunting or fishing is when I feel most connected to this world. I honestly feel a deep sorrow for those who have never experienced the sights and sounds that only mother nature can provide. It definitely isn't the kill that makes a day in the woods a success, but rather the things one sees while pursuing his or her quarry. Have you ever been surrounded by wolves while they howl? Have you ever heard the chomping teeth of a Black Bear that isn't pleased you've entered its domain? What about the sound of a Bull elk bugling in response to your cow call? I have, and I can honestly tell you that there's nothing that gives you a better high than those simple things out in the woods. I recently took my first Black Bear. It was a bitter sweet moment knowing I just killed such a magnificent creature, but also a moment filled with elation after all of the hard work I put into accomplishing such a feat. I take pride in not disrespecting the animals I pursue. Hunting has been a part of the world since man first walked the land. Without hunting people could not have survived. Hunting is one of the main ingredients to our survival, and being part of that tradition is vital to my well being. A person can't feel that sense fullness picking up a steak at the grocery store. Only when you do all of the dirty work--the walking, glassing, shooting, field dressing, skinning, and processing do you understand the respect that should be given to the food you eat. To hunt is as natural as breathing, and anybody who disagrees with that statement is living on another planet and is out of touch with reality. That's a fact. I hunt because I should and because I can. Some say hunting is a blood sport. Other say it is only to boost a man's ego. The truth is that hunting is beautiful and dirty and bloody. To put it simply--it's real life in its rawest form. It's part of nature, and a part of me that I'll never give up whether you agree with it or not. I will hunt until the day I die. You can count on that.