An Investment in Future Hunts Story and Photos by Marc Fryt My English setter works a craggy gully in the southwestern Idaho part of the Owyhee Mountains, weaving easily among the rocks, his tail wagging in enjoyment of
This Is What You Get By Gary Oberbillig They say first impressions are the most powerful, and my cousin, Dave Oberbillig, reached the pinnacle of them in the late 1960s, during Salmon River elk-hunting season. Dave happened to
When Game Birds Were Plentiful By David E. Metcalf The colorful bird flew fast and low, directly toward me. “This will be an easy shot,” I thought. In a situation like this, sometimes I was right and sometimes
A Normal Thing Back Then By Gary Oberbillig When I was a high school kid in rural Idaho in the 1950s, several times each week during the pheasant hunting season I would take up my twelve-gauge shotgun from
A Tradition of Decades Compiled by Pat Drain From the late-1930s into the early-1960s, three Gooding families made regular hunting excursions, often together, into the mountains around the Selway River. In 1964, this region became part of the
Maybe You Don’t Belong in These Mountains Anymore Story and Photos by Mike Cothern The elk that were scattered across the top of the snow-covered ridge came as no surprise. The hoofed animals had appeared there in the
A Hole in the Boat and Ice in the Water By Kitty Widner In 1962, four years before I married Edward L. Widner, we were both living in McCall when he was involved in an amazing event that
Boy Retrievers By Joe Davis We departed that cold winter morning at zero-dark-thirty. At the time, I didn’t know what zero-dark-thirty meant, and I don’t think my dad did, either—he just called it getting up early. Years later,
Among the Playful Hunters By Carolyn White Photos courtesy of Carolyn White Hunting season was finally over at the isolated ranch where I worked in the Nez Perce National Forest. I’d been up by four o’clock nearly every
I’m almost forty. I feel much younger, but realize I am not. I love the hunt, chasing whitetails with my dad in the steep, green mountains of northern Idaho. I respect the game, and to me harvesting a deer is personal. Continue reading
