Bob Meinecke

You’d think the bears would be starting to den up by now, and you’d be right, but what happens when a grizzly decides to den up mere yards from your front door?

I guess I would have made a p-poor biologist. You know, the certified, credentialed, super-educated, graduate type who works for the various state and federal wildlife programs. In a word, not one of those uptown folks making six-figure salaries every year who want to see a grizzly bear in every garbage can for reasons of job security and would probably try to clone dinosaurs or even interbreed Mojave rattlesnakes with scorpions because tourists will pay to see them.

I’m here to tell you that the .44 magnum is one heck of a cartridge, whether chambered in a handgun or a long gun. And yes, I know I have

If I had but one wish for Christmas, it would be simple and self serving. None of this magnanimous hopes for the peace and posterity of this world we live

The number of good folks who hunt with a handgun these days never fails to amaze me. Probably because the world I grew up in looked askance at such shenanigans. There are a lot of us these days practicing the discipline, since it’s no longer generally regarded as a stunt. But then again, my younger world was peopled mostly with truck drivers, shopkeepers and farmers. Mentalities mostly devoid of variances from the socially acceptable themes of life.

Funny thing about the beginning of a new year in our society, popular wisdom and, yes, long-established custom too are that the event of a new year is a chance

Monday last, just for something to do (being old is boring), Sandi and I gassed up the blue truck and headed to Montana via Red lodge, had lunch, then headed out towards Nye. Montana was still brown with fairly little traffic, since the pilgrims aren’t here in numbers yet. Not many critters around though, at noon o’clock, but we had spotted a small herd, about 15 animals, of pronghorns before we even left our home state. Score one for Wyoming!

I have to confess that I don’t understand the mentality of bureaucrats, especially the federal variation. (You did know they come in various genres and subcategories, didn’t you?) Dealing with actual state bureaucrats and their various departments is confusing enough, but by the time these strange creatures mature at the federal level, they are approaching total incomprehensibility. Politicians are bad enough to deal with, but at least if one understands that they operate, in the main, from a self-serving standpoint, one can occasionally garner satisfaction from contact and services provided. Not so with federal bureaucrats.

Saw a peregrine falcon the other day! Or maybe it was just a prairie falcon? But I’m pretty certain it was a peregrine since we’ve seen so many on TV lately. And yes, they are supposed to be fairly rare, like melanistic raccoons. Or fox.

Opening my latest issue of “Smithsonian Magazine” (yes, I actually do read other literature besides gun magazines, from the above to “Range” magazine, having rather catholic tastes), I was stopped in mid-page-flip by a beautiful picture layout, and an additional several pages of pictures of what I was taught as a callow youth to identify as “Cross Foxes”. Although, granted, one of those critters appeared to be more of a mere melanistic phase than a true cross fox.