canning in the dead of winter.

It is not exactly economical. But it certainly is tasty. Sometimes you just run out of pickled beans in the cold storage and sometimes you just might have a friend that has been scratching up your tree asking you to teach him how to make delicious treats.

I think I purchased roughly enough beans for five jars at superstore and it came out to a measly 4 bucks. Not exactly free and not exactly fresh but when push comes to shove and you live above the forty ninth parallel and its midway through the month without form, you don't really have a good darn to say about the matter.

Jason brought over some more beans, more carrots, hot peppers, banana peppers and even twelve hard boiled eggs. I had spent the day fishing and he the day coyote hunting so it was 9 bells on a sunday before the water started rolling in the big pot. But we eventually got at it, not sparing on the cayenne pepper, certainly not sparing on the garlic and liberally splashing vinegar in every which direction. Ever since i accidental forgot to bring the garlic along on a fortnight canoe adventure I have never let it from my side. I have been lonely before, but those 14 days without my vampire repellent were some of the loneliest days i have ever withered.

After some trial and error(always be sure to keep your jars hot before putting them in the water bath as they will crack furiously) we lay the bounty out on the table. If only we could pry those lids off with that satisfying pop right now, life would be no better, but alas the spices need time to ferment with the veggies and it will be at least two weeks before i celebrate the glory that is pickled beans.

happy canning everyone.

currently listening to billy bragg

cultural differences.

The other weekend me and a couple good chums of mine decided we would drive down to America to catch a Steve Earle show. The plan for the adventure was to wake up early and cross the border before noon in time to get some greasy American small town breakfast. So we did just that. We found the local diner, sat down with eyes glaring upon us and picked up the finest menu Montana had to offer. From the pages of the breakfast menu popped up the local special. Eggs, your choice of dead animal, hash browns, and biscuits and sausage gravy? Biscuits and sausage gravy? What the fuck is that. Biscuits? ya i know what they are. Gravy? ya its pretty good on fries, especially Canada's own invention, the great poutine(by the way, Yankee spell check did not like this word). But sausage gravy? Never one to back down from a good breakfast challenge, the three of us decided to partake in this sausage gravy biscuit business. We were not disappointed. it wasn't the tastiest thing ever, and it certainly was not the healthiest, but hey! it was OK.

So off we went to visit the gun shops and glory holes of American and we hit the road for another four hours while constantly revisiting the idea of biscuits and sausage gravy in our conversations. We arrived at our hotel, did the American thing, went to Hooters and went to Famous Dave's where they serve you the entire barn yard on a garbage can lid. Somehow we once again ended up at a rodeo dance in America and then we hit the sack. The next morning we decided to give the smorg at the hotel restaurant a looksee. Down the aisles of buffet trays we travelled until our eyes feasted on the prize. Once again. Biscuits and sausage gravy. We were sold. All the biscuits our colons could handle. We found out from our helpful waitress that the biscuits are a staple in the northern mid west and that somehow the phenomenon had failed to make a showing in Canada. Perhaps one day I will feast upon this goodness from the confines of my beautiful country, but until then i will keep visiting that country that lies to the south of us.


currently listening to Billy Bragg

Turkey day

I'm not sure why i have still failed on blogging about the most ridiculous adventure of 2010 for me. I think it was just to real for words to explain. But whatever the matter was, I am now going to try to do it justice here.

If there is a god worth worshipping, it is the Sun. The Sun is tangible, it is real, it gives us life, without it we die. Sounds pretty well like a god to me. Sounds worth worshipping to me. So why celebrate Christmas when we can sacrifice a live animal three days before and then proceed to get belligerently drunk on red wine.

I have long wanted to celebrate the solstice, so decidedly this was the year where I would force my annual Christmas party to fall on the day after the solstice, the first day of the year when the sun is beginning to awaken from its lengthening slumber. Also i decided that if I would be celebrating the existence of the sun, I better do it in style. So I placed an add on used Regina, looking for a live turkey. I had only one reply. It was for a fifty pound turkey. Yes I spelt that word correctly.... a FIFTY pound turkey. Not one to be daunted by the task, I graciously accepted the offer and plans were made to pick up the bird on December 22.

Currency in hand I travelled the forty kilometers to Indian Head at eight pm on the twenty second in my economy sized 1986 Honda Civic. The bird stood waist high. It was a sheer marvel of genetic strength. Beautiful, yet powerful, the bird was wrestled to the trunk of my car in exchange for two twenty dollar bills. Yes, for forty dollars all of my friends would eat a fantastic meal and I would be eating poultry for the next two months.

I then assembled a group of the finest individuals to make the sacrifice. Justin Ludwig, Cam Wenslow and Andrew Love arrived at my door step, red wine in hand, already well on their way to somewhere. The trunk was popped, turkey was bear hugged and walked to my largest wood block in the back yard. Justin played the role of documenter, Cam, the role of supervisor, and Andrew held down the most Heinous role of all, that of the executioner. While hesitant at first, Andrew played out his role fantastically. With one clean swipe of the machete, the wrist sized neck came detached from the body. If you have ever seen what a chicken does when its head is chopped off, simply imagine what a fifty pound turkey does and you will realize the horror that ensued.

The bird was then cleaned up and the four of us got mightily rip roaring drunk to celebrate. Hungover, i awoke to a turkey that overflowed the pan and barely fit into my oven. Eight hours the beast would pass in the oven, and still it would not be fully cooked deep inside. Regardless, the bird was taken out and a feast for the ages was served somewhere on 1400 block Mctavish while half way around the world the sun was smiling down at the earth.

Don't throw them back!

It's well known to the fishermen and women of Southern Saskatchewan that the Tullibee is the unwelcome fish of the sea. For every ten men I talk to, nine feed the fish to the dogs and one unlikely person is brave enough to have eaten this bottom feeding white fish. So after throwing them back for years at the thought of skinning a fish full of worms, I decided to experiment, and find out for myself what sort of table fare these fish made. Rather than just regurgitating the age old hate for the poor boy, I would now have an informed opinion. Now white fish are infamous for being delicious when smoked, the tullibee is a cousin of the white fish. I have a smoker. The answer was clear. So i cut off the head, scooped out the guts, chopped off the fins and plunked er into a brine. I used about a cup of sea salt and a cup of brown sugar and filled the bowl with water until it covered the fish. I subsequently left to go clear my mind at the local Sunday evening karaoke bar and 2 and a half hours later i arrived back home to take the fish out of the brine and let it dry off a touch before taking it out to the smoke house. i believ i kept a small fire of hardwoods going in the old washing machine basin for roughly 4 hours. It was not just finished yet before it was time to get some shut eye so i left it smoke a tad til morning. As night grew into dawn i brought the fish inside and the skin pulled off like a glove, lunch time came and I could not wait. Fucking candy in my mouth. really really really tasty. Just like smoked salmon, only the texture of the meat was a tad different. I will no longer throw away another one of these delectable treats. If there is one thing I can take away from this aside from a non empty stomach, its that it sometimes pays not to go with the flow. EAT A TULIBE!


Currently listening to blue rodeo. The concert this past weekend was amazing.

the end of funemployment.

I have done it! I am one of them. One of the nine to five thirty crowd. having avoided steady day time employment for my entire existence, I have finally broke down and found a way to kill the three most dangerous winter months. From now until mid April I will be sending away parts to the farmers of the world so they can feed the mouths of the hungry. Yup, I will be spending my days driving around a warehouse, the most exciting of professions. While I will enjoy the money, I will miss the freedom of getting up everyday to carry out ridiculous feats, that later could be blogged about. I'm praying to the dark lord that my life does not become as boring as most people I know owing to their whole nine to five unexistence. I will still be able to get out for winter fun i think. There is plenty of snowshoeing, ice fishing and ice skating to be done.

Cook stove

I stumbled into Western Fireplace this weekend looking for a piece of trim for my chimney, instead I saw my future, a future somehow involving a Heartland Sweetheart. If you did not catch on, the Sweetheart is the name of the cook stove in the picture. This bundle of joy can heat your entire house, cook and warm your food, AND can even be fitted to warm a hot water tank. Now this is one piece of technology I give two feets up to. I thought cook stoves were a thing of the past and had no idea that they are still being manufactured. Needless to say I was stoked. For now I can dream, but one day I will have my Sweetheart and put her to work in my kitchen where she belongs. Just kidding girls, if this was in the house I would not let anyone near my kitchen.

Finished product.

TADA! Here is the finished product. The first night of fishing consisted of me and Miranda drilling a hole in only six feet of water. We would have moved the shack but the hole in the ice was overly hard to drill because of unsharpened tools. Unsharpened tools are sort of like all my vehicles when winter comes, they just don't want to work.

Abraham Lincoln once said, "Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe."

This is advice I will take to my grave.

Regardless, that first evening I was able to catch a very nice sized dog fish that Miranda wanted to keep as a pet.

The next day would prove far more successful. After spending some time that evening sharpening up the auger i was ready to move out the shack on Tanner's arrival the next morning. That day we caught a good number of dirty old tullibee, I brought up a nice little eating walleye and Tanner lashed onto a nice four and a half pound pickerel that fed four of us for lunch.

Hopefully the rest of the season is this promising.

Ice Fishing Part One

Me and my new found friend Tanner Morrison decided to build a hard water fishing enclosure. This is not the first ice shack I have owned. My virgin attempt at construction way back in the years of high school consisted of me thinking that I would be able to use my mighty brawn and brain power to fashion a suitable ice hut. However, like most virgin attempts, the outcome left me very unsatisfied. In recent years I have retired the old shack to the back wall of my gazebo that I built this summer. Here it sits, patiently housing my bicycles in the summer time. The old boy was simply not practical for the hard water sport. It was so heavy that six men with large chests were needed every time it was to be loaded or unloaded onto a vehicle. With this in mind Tanner and I headed strictly toward building a light and simple shack that could be easily set up every year when the geese fly South. The materials cost roughly 180 dollars in total and in the end that shack was so light that I could tie a rope to it and actually run it along the ice while my girlfriend sat inside wishing I was a reindeer.... and the shack was St. Nicks sleigh.

The shack is built into parts and then assembled. The building of the shack took about an hour from start to finish with two people and then I was able, with some difficulty, to assemble it by myself in about an hour once I got it out to the lake.

Here is what the disassembled parts look like. In the background on the right you can seen the cabin my parents purchased on echo earlier this summer.
If you want to know more about the plans of the shack, send me a line.

My dream home

This picture was taken in some National Forest land on the Eastern part of Wyoming. The scene you see is captured from one side of the canyon and down below where you see the house is where the main highway is located alongside the river. There is an excellent walking path that slowly makes its way up the canyon and up onto the plateau. unfortunately i did not have the ambition to make it all the way to the plateau but we came pretty close.

Wyoming!

well well well. Wyoming was infinitely better than Montana. Right now I am sitting in the library of the town of Deadwood South Dakota. So while Wyoming has left me for the time being, it is still in my heart. Wyoming yielded me two of the best camping spots I have ever been to, all for the low price of FREE! We also went to the world's largest mineral hot springs, all for the low price of FREE! Currently, Josh and I are into listening to old Fred Penner tapes and going to museums, so we have been on a bit of a learning curve. Apparently Fred Penner is only uncool from age 10 to 20. As we drove the windy mountain roads his old tunes flowed from the cassette deck into the back of my deepest memory drawer and I was delighted to discover that I remembered all of those silly lyrics of his. The Cat Came Back, Ghost Riders in the Sky, Sandwiches are Beautiful. Maybe i have cabin fever, but these songs slay.
Anywho. Back on topic. We are now in the Black hills of the Southern most Dakota state. Here we will witness the grace of the almighty Crazy Horse and those other four lads who got themselves blasted into the shape of a mountain. Apparently there is also a very large series of caves here, so I think we may go spelunking. Hopefully we can run into an underground lake with a pirate ship only to have the whole mountain come crashing down on us.
Oh! One more thing. If you are ever in Cody Wyoming check out the Buffalo Bill Historical Center. Here we were once again greeted with Wyoming hospitality and treated to half off admission by the nice man at the desk. This building of knowledge contained not one museum.. But FOUR! A Buffalo Bill section, A Plains Indians section, A Western Art section and last but most importantly, A Fire Arms museum. The last section may have been my favorite, the coolest gut buster being a Chinese hand canon from the fourteenth century. This little treat was basically a stick with four metal tubes on the end. all of which, at the touch of a spark could inflict serious business. pretty cool stuff.
Ah! I keep forgetting things. Our new friend Mitch. Mitch is from Virginia but lives in Wyoming now after escaping a debilitating coke habit. Mitch runs a salvage yard and for some reason calls everyone Bubba. Mitch's trailer is a refuge for the left behinds of the world, and his pals? I'm not sure if you call them that. Anyway, his Refugees, Duffy and ummmmmm..... Bubba, live with Mitch, trying to help him fix cars. Mitch has a very large truck, with even larger flames. Mitch's wife, has an even bigger truck, with even larger flames. Mitch keeps horses in exchange for auto parts. Mitch trades Mexican migrants truck cabs in exchange for auto body detailing. Mitch trades farmers old mufflers for feeding hay. Mitch may or may not have a criminal record. Mitch was the most helpful man i have met on this journey. Mitch was a Godsend. Mitch fixed our truck for free. But we gave him money anyway. So heres to Mitch. My most favorite Redneck.

Top 5 Skillets of 09

I decided that i needed to make a post completely dedicated to breakfast. So here it is.

The number one skillet award of 09 goes to: The 24 Egg skillet served on a cymbal in Butt Fuck no where Manitoba. Not so much the skillet here as the setting that is important. Here we met one of the most interesting people of the summer. Campsite Dave? road site 24? My dates and names may be off but that really does not matter. We (Our band Failed States and friends Things Change) had found a little parcel of crown land aside the lake on our way up to Dauphin Manitoba. We decided it would be an excellent place to camp with our friends in Invasion on the way back to Regina. All went well and we went to bed with vision of skillets dancing in our heads. Campfire started in the morning, Campsite Dave showed up just as the skillet was getting underway. Out of his white pick up truck he jumped out ecstatically with fishing gear in hand to greet us good morning. After hastily setting up his fishing gear he went back to the pick up for the grand finale. Out of the cab he grabbed two giant home theatre speakers and hooked them up to his homemade rig. So there we sat, at six in the morning, dining on skillets and listening to AC/DC at 1500 watts.

Number two skillet award goes to-Any skillet i made for Miranda early this year. I tricked her into falling in love with me making her delicious skillets every morning for breakfast.

Then i got lazy.

Number three skillet award goes to- The skillet we made on the side of the Qu'Appelle one morning while canoeing after being barked at relentlessly during the night by some rabid Coyote\Wolf\rabid creature. Scary night. Good morning. This was probably wins the tastiest skillet award as it was made with my fresh tomatoes and other garden vegetables, but it still comes down at number three. Better luck next year WolfDOG.

Number four skillet award goes to- Rocky mountain high skillet. Made in the high altitudes near Hunter's Peak just east of Yellowstone. Pristine river water to quench down those delicious eggs wins this skillet the number 4 spot on the charts.

Number five skillet award goes to any accent roofing skillet break with particular attention on the 2009 skillet challenge. Won by yours truly with the help of Aly Brennan. When you don't want to work, there is no better treatment than a skillet. No matter how much restaurant skillets pale in comparison to the homemade kind, they are still 500 times more enjoyable than starting work on time.

Exploring the American Midwest.

At least i think that is what it is referred to. Anyway, Montana and Wyoming is where we are at, me and my pal Josh that is. So, I will begin by stating that Montana is a shit whole where nothing exists except cowboys and ummmm. Nope, that is it. This state, at least where we have been is very sparsely populated. We hit a stretch of highway where for over 100 km there was not a single town. Not even a one horse town, let alone a three or a four horse town. Heck I could have been up for a no horse town even. I woulda been so fucking lucky, but nope, every town has horses. So far on our trip we have explored the Grasslands National Park in Saskatchewan which was very excellent. I have never seen so many mule deer in my life as i had on our hike through those badlands. The next exciting stop was Yellow Stone National Park which was a slight let down. American National Parks have nothing on Canadian Parks. Practically the entire park was shut down aside from the hot spring terraces, which while being very interesting, were no old faithful, which was what i had my sights set on. Back on the road we went were we camped beside the beautiful Clark's Fork River and woke up to make an excellent camp fire skillet. So far today we have made it to Cody Wyoming and from here we are headed to the world's largest hot spring in Thermopolis Wyoming. Wish us luck, because Fuck is it cold down here.

What to do?

So now that i have shot a deer. What do i do? I had never skinned a mammal before, nor have I butchered one. After we loaded the deer into the truck and did a little bit more hunting we took him back to town where I strung it up from the rafters only to realize that i really did not know what i was doing. So i went at it anyway. skinning the deer was actually very easy and i convinced my younger brother to give me a hand. Once we had his shirt off we went right into the deboneing, which was also very straight forward. Cut the meat off the bone. Not rocket science. Now what? I had seen a couple times what the elders would use to smoke their moose meat up north. I highly respected these people i had met on a couple of my adventures. People living off the land and respecting their Earth, with tales that would interest even the most worldly of folk. I figured they certainly must be doing something right. The smokers i had seen consisted of a bathtub type arrangement where the fire would go and then a three sided triangle like structure to funnel the smoke. Now i did not have an entire moose to smoke so i simplified the design a little bit and used a washing machine hub instead of the bath tub. Peanut butter jerky time! I figured i could design a recipe for myself. So i did.

3kg venison, 1 cup teriyaki sauce, quarter cup Worcestershire sauce and balsamic vinegar. two tablespoons pepper, 3 table spoons meat tenderizer, splash of lemon juice, 6 cloves garlic and one whole white onion. Let the meat sit in that for a day then smoke the shit out of it, being careful not to get it to close to the flame.

Life is good when you are eating jerky all the time.

Dream envisioned- Goal achieved.

On saturday i shot my very first deer. Not the largest animal in the forest but it was still a nice three by three buck.

I went out hunting in Weyburn with my friend Kalen, his father and his father's friend. Up at the sixth chime and off for some good old breakfast. Did I mention how much i love breakfast? Well anyway, I love it, I think i may even dedicate my next tattoo to the traditional bacon, eggs, toast and hash. As soon as I punctured the egg yoke with my hashbrowns I knew it was going to be a swell day. So off in the direction of Kalens farm we went. We did a little push in a creek bed before giving up to find somewhere else to try our luck. We were motoring down a prairie trail when off on the horizon we spotted a buck chasing around a doe in the field. The rut is often over by this time of the year but i think with the cold weather those four legged animals might have pushed it back aways. Anyway. this fellow paid zero attention to us. He had only one thing on his mind...sort of like us men i guesse, except if deer had guns we would all be dead.

First we tried to take a shot at him from the road but he up and decided the middle of the section was a better place to hang out. After that we sent Doug to try and spook him over to us on the North side. That didn't pan out either. If that doe wasn't going anywhere neither was he. So finally we went to the south side where the wind was in our favour and walked to within a hundred and fifty yards from him. He could not hear nor see us because of the breeze. I got down on my belly and touched off some rounds from the .243 Savage and hit him in the front shoulder. Not quite in the Engine block but pretty darned close.

Next thing you knew we had him field dressed when another buck popped up on the horizon a hundred yards away. It looked just like the boy i had shot so Kalen grabbed his .303 and took a standing shot at him when the deer did not even notice. The deer kept coming right at Kalen! so he touched off another shot from 30 yards away and down it went. BUT. this was not to be our lucky day. On close examination, Kalen had accidentally shot a mule deer, for which he did not have tags. A very honest mistake, the Muley had smaller ears than normal and the antler configuration screamed white tail. The deer had not been running either which could have been a clear giveaway. So we did the only honest thing we could. We phoned up the local conservation officer to tell our tale. Respecting our honesty, the officer did not charge Kalen and only took the deer away to give to a needy family. Turns out honesty is actually the best policy.

Invaders from the North

Usually the word Invaders is surrounded by negative connotations. For this blog though, that is not the case. If you read the Leaderpost at all you may have noticed a story on this a couple of months back, if not, I have great news for you. When I was a child, I believed the Elk and Moose species to be almost mythical creatures of great treasure. They were animals of the uninhabited North country or of the great Rocky mountains. Historically though, this was not the case. Moose and Elk once roamed all of Saskatchewan, but during a time when rural inhabitants shot much of their own meat, their numbers dwindled. In 1930 Elk hunting had to actually be closed in Saskatchewan so that they would not become extirpated. It seems now however that Moose and Elk are not the mythical creatures I once imagined them to be. They are now making a comeback in southern Saskatchewan.

My friend Brett was hunting south of Moose Jaw this Saturday right near the border when he saw 12 Elk! Then Sunday me and Brett went hunting just a half hour or so East of Regina where we were greeted with the presence of a large cow Moose. The large female was a magical sight in the frosty early morning. Standing by a scattered hay pile, everytime she breathed a cloud of moisture engulfed her head. She stood broadside to us about a hundred and fifty yards away for a couple minutes before she continued on with her journey. Hopefully her belly is just getting started on some baby moose for next spring.

This is excellent news to hunters. Because of the Ministry of Environment's conservation efforts to increase the Moose and Elk populations throughout Saskatchewan, us Reginians may one day be able to hunt Moose right out our back door. Wouldn't that be something.

For the full LeaderPost article- http://www.leaderpost.com/technology/Moose+making+move/2080289/story.html

punked on the morning hunt.

So I went out for a little morning hunt for deer today around the city of Regina. No farther from the city then about ten minutes. I drive around for about 20 minutes without seeing anything and then head down a prairie trail we had found on Sunday where someone had set up a little makeshift tree stand in the bush. I got out of my truck to take a poop when i hear some Hungarian Partridges. Having seen nothing the rest of the morning, i go and open up my gun case to change the barrels on my shotgun and try my hand and convincing some poultry onto the dinner plate. I have a Mossberg five hundred that came with a riffled slug barrel for deer and a smooth bore barrel for shot. So i put in my chicken barrel and walk thirty yards away from the truck where i cross the fence where it sounds like the chickens are hanging around. No sooner do i hop over the fence when i turn to my right and not thirty fucking yards away comes a nice four by four whitetail deer trotting broad side to me. I could have screamed! Easiest shot in the world. I would not have even had to haul the deer back to the vehicle, it was right on the trail! I gave a try at getting back to the Ford for my other barrel before the deer noticed me but i had no such luck. Him and his other two friends who had now joined him quickly jumped the barbed wire and slowly walked just out of range of my peace maker. Such is Murphy's law though as not only could i not get the deer but it turned out the Huns were a good 600 yards away and sound just apparently travels like wildfire in the fall morning.

I suppose it was at least not a total loss. Now i know where the deer are at and i have a tree stand to use. So wish me luck tomorrow morning as i get up bright and early to try to rattle in a buck for the supper table.

Wood smoke

What is it about the smell of wood smoke? Why does it provoke all my fondest memories? Why does the aroma instantly make me happy? Why is it around whenever i am truly enjoying my life? Why does it function as a cloud of comfort for me? Is it some sort of misunderstood mood enhancer? Does it trigger some sort of primordial human emotion? An emotion felt when times were happier long ago. Does it put us more in touch with our ancestors? Or the creator? Some people believe smoke sends our prayers and thoughts to the mysterious over sear in the clouds. The questions are endless, but for me, i am able to narrow it down to one definite answer.

For me, it is but a reminder. A recollection of those moments in time that are truly significant. Sitting around the camp stove with good pals after a long day of moose hunting. Perched on a log at the side of a mountain lake after taking the plunge off the granite cliffs all afternoon. Hanging around the fireplace with my family on Christmas morning. Lighting the stove in the cabin after hammering walleye all day. Not to mention the always common but never inappreciable moments late at night in the backyard with your best friends. Simply stated, All my favorite days culminate in night time campfires With the sweet fragrance of wood smoke always nearby.

Bounty Hunting

The ministry of agriculture announced this week that they will be placing a bounty on Coyotes. Twenty dollars a head is what the government has deemed this predator worth. Although i am not sure how i feel about the idea of putting a bounty on an animal, I don't think i am going to pass up the opportunity to do some coyote hunting. If the government keeps things in check, hopefully the bounty does its job and thins out the population of deer thieves without fulling eradicating them and fucking up the entire ecosystem. However, twenty dollars from the government, A nice pair of mittens and some coyote meat, justifies it enough for me. The idea of eating a coyote probably grosses most people out that live in the westernized world, but there is a huge percentage of the world that would love to stick their nose in a roasted hind leg.... and who are we to say that is wrong.
So on Friday me and some friends went out to the arm river valley to once again try our hand at some hunting. This time around the grouse were not so spooked and i was able to get a few shots off, but apparently i need to work on my aim. We also tried out the predator call that i bought. It makes the sound of a distressed rabbit. I huffed and i puffed and i blew into the reed call and soon enough magpies began to circle overhead, and a crow took a slight dive into the area before realizing that it was inhabited by humans. Some say patience is a virtue though, and i don't have that virtue. After a few minutes i got up, took out the buck shot and put back in the bird shot only to see a coyote russle out from the bushes fifteen feet away. Shucks!

better luck next time i suppose.

press release- http://www.gov.sk.ca/news?newsId=c533b51a-71ad-4e88-a940-370a0670e9d0

Three against the wilderness.

I just finished reading this classic British Columbia wilderness tale today. "Three Against the Wilderness" was an excelent read. A story about Eric Collier and his family, who as pioneers in the late 1920's went deep into the mountanous terrain of B.C. to scrape out a living for themselves. Not just a story of adventure and survival, it is also a story of conservation. Colliers realization that the lack of beavers in the area contributed to the lack of habitat for other wildlife was one of great insight. Whiteman and Indian had long ago trapped out all the beavers before Eric's family entered the scene. With hardwork and vision Eric vowed to bring them back to the area. With his bare hands he rebuilt their dams so that water could once again replenesh the marshes and feed the potential animals. A conservation officer, hearing about the work Eric had done, brought two pair of beavers down from the North country so that with the help of Collier, beavers could once again protect the wetlands. 14 years later beaver populations in the area where high enough that Eric and his son could harvest a hundred beavers ever trapping season. Collier has an excellent story telling ability and is able to conjur the wildness of the mountains and hills for all to share. This story reminded a lot about Saskatchewans own famous conservationist, the famous Grey Owl. If you are interested in the outdoors and love to read then i highly recomend this book for you.

www.ericcollier.org.uk

Regina Beach hunting.

So last weekend me and some pals went out looking for some birds to shoot. Sharp tailed grouse in particular, Saskatchewan's official bird. These birds are pretty prevalent throughout the province but they tend to populate the prairie lands the most. Limits on these birds are 3 a day and 6 in your possession, which would certainly fill more than my freezer. Unfortunately for us though there would be no birds flying into my freezer on this warm November day. The chickens were all very spooked. While we saw maybe six birds during our walk we were unable to get even remotely close to the grouse which are actually known for sometimes flushing out right below your feet before you even realiz they are there.

To hunt these deceiving creatures we made the trek out to the Regina Beach community pasture. The pasture takes up a very significant amount of land(more land than you could hunt in one day) and much of the land is located along the arm river valley. The arm river valley is famously known for sheltering Louis Riel on his way up from America to Batoche to take part in the North West Rebellion. This is a very Beautiful valley with an ever flowing creek, not big enough to paddle down but big enough to present a challenge in crossing it. You can hunt all day in a place such as this, not harvest a single animal and still have one of your most enjoyable days of the fall. The highlight this time was Jenna stumbling upon the sleeping porcupine. Fearing the thought of getting to close, we yelled at the creature to awaken it from it's slumber but it was useless. A dozy [orcupine sleeps sounder than a hungover highschooler. Not easily dismayed, we tossed a stick in its direction and sure enough it took flight. These are pretty slow creatures so its pretty humorous to watch them gallop away from you. It looks more like the slow waddle of an aligator.

All in all a solid day was had. We still managed to put some lead in the air, firing off a couple rounds at the old beer bottle on the fence post, and even a giant four litre jug of piss we found on the side of the road (which was pretty gross, but i must say it looked fantastic when it exploded). Oh and one more thing worth mentioning, the brunch at Regina Beach was able to combine my two favorite foods into one awesome flavour explosion. This was my first experience with breakfast pizza, and if i have any say in it, it certainly will not be my last.

here are a few photos from the excursion. Photo credits go to my friend Jenna Slade.