Serving Waitsburg, Dayton and the Touchet Valley
Serving Waitsburg, Dayton and the Touchet Valley
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The sun set behind the western slope, giving way to the clammy chill of early spring twilight. Yet, the alpenglow bathed the greening wheatfields across the canyon with a soul-penetrating glow borne only of Mother Nature's splendor. The day had been warm and beautifully sunny, but a light down jacket was welcomed where I stood in the shadows. The clutches of winter were slowly slipping away as I rotated, taking in the 360-degree panorama that was now afforded me by the lengthening day. A...
October 13th, 2024 – "Flat, clear water and high sun are a poor combination for persnickety trout, particularly in desert midge country. Throw in a metric ton of black fly larvae the size of a pencil lead that the fish inspect with excruciating detail, and you've got the makings of a slow day. By noon, the frost had melted off, and I had tired of watching Chas catch fish on a booby fly with a chironomid dropper. Midday, hundreds of large dragonflies began copulating unexpectedly over the shallow...
Some of the best moments of my life have occurred while following the flashing tail of a bird dog through the whipping grouse covers and amber plains. I've found the upland hunting community welcoming, and the tales I've shared have connected me with friends I would never have known otherwise. Pheasants Forever holds a subset of this community - like-minded conservationists passionate about nature, bird dogs, and the beautifully plumed game birds that fascinate us. I've had the good fortune of...
A stiff breeze shoved through the sagebrush, wafting the soft branch tips like a feather duster and scattering the pungent scent with the puffs of dust rising from underfoot. A valley quail breast feather clung to the sage as it whipped in the wind. The soft, downy barbs flailed around the feather shaft while the vane gently fanned. The feather was that of a female, white with a thin black outlining band and dark shaft splitting the vane perfectly centered. The feather was deposited following a...
The stainless carafe made a metallic thud as it slammed onto the pine booth tabletop. The urethane coating had worn away over the years, as has the luster of this and other small Montana towns whose economy has waned and the youth have fled. Her nametag read "Betty," so I assumed that was accurate. Built like Mimi from the Drew Carey Show, she was robust with heavy makeup, voluptuous brunette hair with silver streaks, and an attitude that could make dried paint run. I hoped there was hot coffee...
A cool autumn breeze zipped over the homestead the night of October 7 as I stood by the barn, attacking a tree limb that had fallen upon the fence. The white alders growing along the ditch are as old as time. The diameter of their sprawling limbs would make a California redwood envious. The lichen-stained railroad tie posts and cedar boards were no match. Replacing that corner section of the fence and gate was on my "to-do" list but failed to reach a priority status until that moment. Dusk had...
Blue Mountain ruffed grouse hunting is hard on an old dog. Thick covers and fire-scarred timbers scattered and stacked like match sticks are challenging for me, let alone two elder setters that stand 18 inches high at the chest. Nevertheless, we find ourselves in the mountaintop covers every September, welcoming the upland bird season with the ruffed grouse opener, enjoying camp overlooking the Dayton area, and the remarkable sunsets that boast a palette from peach to lavender. Timbered edges...
September is an incredible time in the Pacific Northwest. Fall is finally upon us, and the heat of the summer fades into brisk, starry nights. Fishing picks up again, and hunting seasons open. While we look forward to fall in our neck of the woods, September on the lower Columbia River also has plenty to offer. When my hometown buddy, Matt, called with a request to fish the Columbia River for fall Chinook, I had no choice but to invite him out for a west coast road trip that would land us in...
A few years back, a social media friend began a wooden dove decoy migration event to raise awareness of the tradition and art of handcrafted wooden decoys for bird hunting. Each year around September 1st, he would send a dozen handmade dove silhouettes from Georgia across the country to be hunted over in various regions. Being a traditionalist, I thrust myself into the migration route, adding Washington to the list of states these well-traveled decoys have landed. Aside from experiencing a new...
"We're missing snakes," Ali said. "It's the apex predator at ground level." "You're right. We've seen one gopher snake on this property in eight years," I replied. Rarely would anyone utter a thought about needing more snakes in their life, but this conversation followed a moment of compromised composure. A pocket gopher eating the entire root system from beneath a beautiful three-year-old sagebrush that had grown from seed provoked red-faced rage and copious obscenities. I'm not one to "throw...
A beautiful early summer morning greeted nearly a dozen youth interested in the outdoors and shooting sports as they arrived at the Walla Walla Gun Club. The day's event, sponsored by Blue Mountain Pheasants Forever in partnership with the gun club, was the opening act for a summer's worth of shotgun skills events for youth aged 18 and under. The BMPF youth "summer series" celebrates the challenge and excitement of target shooting and builds the muscle memory necessary to connect with flying...
Spring in the scablands is purely magical, and that's no exaggeration. I can testify because the striking landscape, the rich cultural and natural history of the area, the diversity of wildlife, basalt bluffs, and grasslands coax me into photography when I should be fishing the many lakes that support healthy rainbow trout populations. This year, I ventured further north to Swanson Lakes, eager to experience early wildflowers. One golden April afternoon, I searched for anything colorful,...
Hunting, fishing, and hiking always seemed vanilla to me when it comes to the potential for injury and death. That could be one reason that a passion for the outdoors hit me when I was a child. My brothers chided me for being a "sissy," and the best escape from the ridicule was avoidance somewhere beneath the trees on the neighboring woodlots. I began tree-stand hunting for white-tailed deer in my late teens and quickly realized the dangers of the activity. I took the proper precautions with...
Most of my winter trips to the Wallowa River are characterized by slippery travel across the Tollgate Crossing during an active snow or ice storm. The five-foot walls of packed snow confining the highway are intimidating yet comforting, considering that I might bounce off the wall rather than ditch my rig in the creek draining the Elgin side of the mountain. Most days are frigid, snowy, or rainy, so a bluebird sky means instant victory upon arrival at Minam State Park. Flow conditions were...
The end of the upland bird and waterfowl seasons in the early part of the calendar year comes with bittersweet closure, but as time ticks further beyond that last hunt, the urge to venture afield pulls harder, like an increasing magnetic force. Fortunately, small game seasons often run into March, bridging that early spring gap before the wild turkey opener. Early March can be a fine time to venture afield, with bluebird days forecasting imminent spring weather, which is precisely why I seek...
Chief Joseph Dam came online in 1961, producing power through the first 16 of its 27 hydro turbines. Behind the dam is Lake Rufus Woods. Over 8,000 surface acres of the upper Columbia River stretch 51 miles behind Chief Joeseph's massive monoliths until pushing into the tailwater of Grand Coulee Dam. Each year, the Colville Tribal fish hatchery releases thousands of "triploid" rainbow trout into Rufus Woods. "Triploid" fish are genetically engineered with three chromosomes rather than the usual...
In late October, the Walla Walla County Conservation District (WWCD), Blue Mountain Pheasants Forever (BMPF), and the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife (WDFW) hosted Dixie Elementary for a conservation field day. Alison Crowley, Project Manager with the WWCD, leads the WWCD "Conservation Connections" program, which promotes conservation-related outreach and education. As a part of Conservation Connections, Alison led Dixie Elementary School students through completing a riparian...
It's an utter fact, proven time and again, particularly in a state like Washington: wild birds in the vest are won with "boot leather," so to speak. Even in a spectacular wild bird year, by December, pheasants are scarce in the public covers of the Palouse. Private lands with the right mix of food and cover harbor dozens of pheasants as they congregate during cold weather. But rest assured, the remainder of the roosters are seasoned escape artists, skittish as hell and alive, thanks to their...
As I lay in bed flipping through the latest edition of a well-respected gun dog magazine, an article titled "What Happened to Simple" grabbed my attention. The author is a long-time columnist for the magazine who shares healthy perspectives and insights on various bird-hunting topics. In this article, he lamented technology as the ruination of upland hunting. The author said, "We have become so dependent on gadgetry, you might say we've lost our way...to discovery, to independence, to self-relia...
The raspy "cuh coo co" calls of Eurasian collared doves could be heard in every direction. It was 5:30 a.m. It's an absurd hour to be afield chasing doves, but August heat makes the birds lazy. The first couple of hours of dawn are the most productive. Being surrounded by birds prompted me to hole up beneath a pine aand rose bush on the edge of an opening where I could wait for doves to fly through. Pass-shooting is a standard technique for mourning doves where the hunter finds a water source,...
A satisfying aroma rode the heat waves from the grill where six smallmouth bass filets dredged in flour, egg, and panko sizzled in a quarter-inch of shimmering olive oil. The cast-iron pan rested on the grill's side burner where oil pops could fly freely without a belabored subsequent cleaning. Bass is an underrated food fish, in my humble opinion, which I formed at about eight years old. Grandpa Roy and I had walked through the cow pasture behind his house to Good's Pond on a warm, cloudy...
Aldo Leopold (1887-1948) is known as the visionary behind modern wildlife and habitat management. He understood the connection between ecosystem integrity and wildlife abundance and diversity. Perhaps more importantly, Leopold understood where and how humans fit into the balance and how to communicate and connect people and the landscape. Leopold's theories on wildlife management needed proving, and in 1931, he found the perfect scenario. While living in Madison, Wisconsin, Leopold met a farmer...
Whether you realize it or not, most outdoor enthusiasts are phenological scientists. You may never have published in a peer-reviewed scientific journal or even considered proper phenology as practical in everyday life. Maybe you've never even heard of phenology. But if you appreciate the outdoors or even just vegetable gardening, chances are, you're a seasoned phenologist. Simply put, phenology is a branch of science dealing with the correlation between climate and environmental cues, and...
Seventy degrees with a cool breeze was welcomed, given the snow had barely left the northern shadows of the barn at home. I was surrounded by waterfowl and songbirds warbling, cackling, bickering, and flapping to attract mates. An all-around beautiful day to be on the water, yet I was well beyond bored as I bobbed on my pontoon watching my fishing buddy, Sean, yard in rainbow trout. Most days, I catch about ten percent of Sean's count, but this day, absolutely nothing would entertain my many...
My predawn exhaustion caused me to miss the freeway exit and my goal of being at the Teal Lakes at dawn, thanks to a detour through Connell. My tardiness was irrelevant, however. The vibrant sunrise I had hoped for never transpired, but a brief period of blood-orange horizon presented over the rim of South Teal Lake. It was colder in the scablands than anywhere else that morning. Steam rose and drifted over the lake's surface while waterfowl silhouettes floated delicately along the shoreline...
