Category Archives: Backcountry Considerations

Bears Can Definitely be A Consideration – Among Other Dangers

Bear Attacks and Wilderness Survival

Now That You Have My Attention…! – Rattlesnakes Ahead

 

A Prairie Rattlesnake (Crotalus viridis) Coiled and Ready To Strike In Northwestern Colorado. Photograph By Michael Patrick McCartyLocked And Loaded. Photograph By Michael Patrick McCarty

 

Very few sounds heard in the wildlands of North America can completely capture your full and unmitigated attention like that unmistakable vibration of a rattlesnake in waiting. I located that sound recently while on a scouting trip for Pronghorn in Northwestern Colorado, emanating steadily from a clump of low hanging sage not very far from my feet. And to be honest, I can still hear it today, bouncing between my ears among the technicolor memories of my mind.

In this case the source of that infamous buzz was about two feet of Crotalus viridis, commonly known as the Prairie Rattlesnake. Yet no matter the name, or the size, of one thing there was no doubt. This snake meant business from the business end, and I wanted no part of that transaction. My guess is that it would have really preferred to skip the encounter too, though perfectly willing to do as it must. He is but a snake, after all.

Prairie Rattlesnakes are the most common Rattlesnake in Colorado, and they seem to be particularly prevalent in the areas that I frequent. This was the second live close encounter (others being found dead in the road) that I have had in as many years; the first I would have surely stepped on had it not been good enough to slither off of the trail when it sensed me coming. Before these interactions you could say that I had never worried too much about snakebite.

I do now!

The available literature seems to indicate that maximum length for a Prairie Rattlesnake in Colorado is about 3 1/2 feet, although there are mentions of much bigger snakes in the historical record. I did listen to a first hand account of a five foot or better snake killed in my hunting area just this summer, and I have no reason to doubt the source. Nobody really knows their population parameters and distributions. Fact is, there are a lot of rattlesnakes about the land, and apparently they can be…big.

Enough said!

Antelope hunters, and bowhunters in particular, should be well enough aware of that stark reality. Blinds on waterholes are often the preferred method of hunting with short range weapons. These locations are also preferred by the wildlife of the area, both large, and small. And snakes…

Temperatures, particularly at night, are warm; the little creatures, and the rattlesnakes that prey upon them, are active. Put it all together and it can easily spell some trouble of the bad kind for the bowhunter hurrying to the ambush point in the low light of early morning.

Still, snakebites are uncommon, and fatalities are rarer. “Out of the millions of people who live in Colorado and the millions more who visit the state for outdoor activities, only 79 were bitten by snakes last year (2017), said Shireen Banerji, a Rocky Mountain Poison & Drug Center clinical manager. The number of bites has been increasing slightly. There were 77 in 2016, 76 in 2015 and 65 in 2014. Only one person is known to have died of a snakebite since 2014”.

So, in summary, a quick tap of fangs may not kill you and dry bites are possible, but you can be fairly certain of one thing. It will be a more than unpleasant experience, and most likely a medically significant and tissue altering event. Antivenom and emergency treatment can be very expensive, resulting in what may be a financially devastating hospital bill at the end of the day, or week.

Best to avoid that possibility as much as you can. Be aware, snake aware, and ready.

You might also want to invest in a good pair of snake boots, or snake chaps, and a much brighter headlamp. Or perhaps even better, always let someone else go first, like your long time hunting partner.

Just kidding!

Good Hunting!

By Michael Patrick McCarty

 

You Can Read More About The Prairie Rattlesnake Here And Here

 

*Update September 28, 2019

It happened again, another rattlesnake close encounter, that is, and I can breathlessly report that it was no less attention grabbing than the first. For some reason which entirely escapes me, I am this year a first class rattlesnake attractor of the third kind. It is a badge of honor that I would much rather do without.

Early afternoon found me trudging down an abandoned two-track river road under an all-seeing, withering sun, en route to a promising looking catfish hole down in a deep, wild canyon.

Intent on my catfishing mission, a small whisper in the back of my mind alerted me to danger ahead as I approached a particularly tall patch of thick weeds covering the road. Call it a sixth sense, or perhaps my last encounter was still too fresh upon my mind, but everything about the place cried “snake!”.

I remember thinking that I was simply overreacting, for the chance of finding a rattlesnake camped out in this one small patch of forlorn vegetation in the middle of a vast, desolate landscape had to be very, very slim. It also suddenly hit me that in my haste to find a fish I had left a perfectly fine pair of snake chaps (for fang protection when it’s already too late) in the back of my truck, along with my camera (to document chance wildlife encounters so someone may believe me), and oh yes, my mostly unreliable but somewhat comforting cell phone in case I was ever bitten by a venomous creature in a land far, far from help (so you can throw it at the thing that bit you after it does not work).

 

A Large Black Widow Spider Walks Hurriedly Through The Gravel In Western Colorado. Photograph By Michael Patrick McCartyA Black Widow Spider On the Move. As if Rattlesnakes Are Not Enough To Worry About! Photo By Michael Patrick McCarty

 

Yikes!

So, as you might guess, I was particularly watchful of where I placed my feet along the trail, as I occasionally slapped the undergrowth  ahead with the tip of my fishing rod.

And of course, you have probably surmised by now what was about to happen next. Staring down across the tops of my boots not very far from the end of my nose, I soon saw the plump, round body of a rather large snake stretched out at the base of the weed stalks, and then, at the end of the rainbow, so to speak, those infamous and unmistakable Prairie rattles.

Backing away slowly, quietly, I completed my retreat as he disappeared like a slithering apparition, and we will never know who was more happy about that. Human-Snake interactions can end rather badly for the snake too, after all. Where he went next only a rattler knows; where I was headed suddenly looked more distant and treacherous than I had pictured. But go I did, albeit ever more mindfully.

Most importantly, I had catfish to catch.

And thank God for guardian angels, and that I had enough sense, snake sense, to listen, and to follow just a little bit of my own advice. I shutter to think what would have happened, had I taken, just one more step.

Be Careful Out There!

By Michael Patrick McCarty

 

A Desolate Canyon On The Yampa River In Northwestern Colorado. Photograph By Michael Patrick McCartyThe Indescribable Beauty of Adventure, And Danger. Photo By Michael Patrick McCarty

 

Legal Status

Hunting Season Dates For The Prairie Rattlesnake in Colorado is June 15 thru August 15 annually; a small game license is required. The daily bag limit is 3 snakes, with a possession limit of 6.

It is my understanding that it is legal to kill rattlesnakes when necessary to protect life or property (if they pose a real threat).

Translation: You can’t kill them just because you don’t like them – or something to that effect.

*Statute 33-6-107(9) and Wildlife Commission Regulations (WCR) 312(C), WCR 323, WCR 1000(A)(6), WCR 17122(C),
WCR 17123(A) & WCR 17141(A)

**This statute does appear to apply to personal property.

 

A Small Lizard Suns Itself On A Brightly Colored Rock On The Gunnison River in Western Colorado. Photograph By Michael Patrick McCartyAnd Through It All, The Lizard Watches…Photograph By Michael Patrick McCarty

Live Action Game Cameras – A Slippery Slope?

The Browning Dark Ops Pro XD Game Trail Camera, With Camera Security Box, Master Lock Padlock, and Master Lock Python Trail Camera Adjustable Camouflage Cable Lock. Photograph By Michael Patrick McCarty

Ready To Record, And Report. Photo By Michael Patrick McCarty

 

Post by  | July 18, 2018

On an October morning a decade or so ago, I was hunting woodcock in an abandoned orchard. A flight had come in and, in less than an hour, I collected my three-bird limit. That evening I got a call from an acquaintance, a deer hunter, who hunts the same orchard. He asked how I did and if I’d seen evidence of deer. How, I asked, had he known I had been hunting there that morning? He said he saw me on the trail camera he’d placed in cover. I was amused.

It’s now common to see cameras in the woods I hunt, and it’s interesting to hear from friends who share the pictures of animals their cameras record. I’m primarily a bird hunter so field cameras are of no use, though I have thought it would be neat to position a camera near a grouse drumming log to get some pictures of the showoff. It’s clear that a deer hunter can make good use of a game camera or two. It’s also clear that the technology is a useful tool for wildlife researchers. More broadly, I know public school and college teachers who have their students use remote cameras to record animal activities in their backyards and neighborhoods. Anything that gets young people outdoors and engaged in appreciating wildlife is a good thing.

But there is a downside that hunters in particular must face, and it’s gotten more acute with the development of so-called “live action game cameras,” units that record and transmit images in real time to a smart phone or other hand-held device. Does this technology tilt the playing field too far in favor of the hunter? Are you really hunting if your phone notifies you when a buck has stepped into the food plot?

This is not a new problem. Philosophers in ancient Greece worried about our ability to take unfair advantage over animals. Jose Ortega y Gassett praised hunters who deliberately handicapped themselves to make the contest between hunter and hunted a challenge. Aldo Leopold worried that “gadgets” would corrupt hunting: Even if the gadgets didn’t improve hunters’ chances of making a kill, they placed too much emphasis on the kill at the expense of the challenge of the chase. Theodore Roosevelt was characteristically blunt on the same subject: “The rich people, who are content to buy what they have not the skill to get by their own exertions – these are the men who are the real enemies of game.”

TR was familiar with both riches and exertion, but today, technology does not require inherited wealth. We have to ask ourselves if we want to make hunting easier, and perhaps more importantly, do we want to make success, defined as a kill, more certain? In any given year, no more than 20 percent of all deer and elk hunters harvest their animals. That they keep hunting, year in and year out, suggests that they are hunting for complex reasons that go far beyond the desire to kill: Failing to do so in any given year only heightens the expectations for next year.

Available technology now makes it possible for hunters to reduce the time they otherwise would have to invest in preseason scouting, even time afield during the season. Game cameras have become inexpensive, enabling hunters to check the movement of game in areas they intend to hunt without investing precious hours with boots on the ground. It’s easy to see how substituting technology for the laborious process of acquiring intimate knowledge of game is tempting, especially given the fact that for most hunters, there are many claims on “free” time.

At this writing (February 2018) only three states have banned live action cameras in season (Montana requires that all cameras be removed during the hunting season.) A few more are considering regulations. This is an issue that will become more pressing as cameras get more sophisticated. And then there are camera-equipped drones that raise even knottier ethical questions. Sixteen states have banned drones in season, thanks in part to advocacy by BHA.

We are facing the wicked problem of the “slippery slope”: Where do we draw the line between the acceptable and the unacceptable? Is the line purely a personal preference or ought there be regulations that say cameras are OK for preseason scouting but not during the hunting season? Ought we draw a line between conventional and live action cameras? And drones?

At bottom, the question is one of fair chase. Do live action cameras unacceptably tilt the playing field? There’s room for debate, but one thing is certain: The price of technology will go down and the ethical costs associated with accepting increasingly sophisticated electronic mediation between hunter and hunted will go up.

You Can Read The Original Article Here

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Reposted By Michael Patrick McCarty

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A Bad Day To Be a Grizzly Bear, Or A Grizzly Bear Hunter

 

“The roar of a wounded grizzly bear is nicely designed to try the courage of a man. It’s half snarl and half bellow, and it’s full of blood and fangs and murderous rage.”Ben East, Brown Fury of the Mountains, 1940

 

October 28, 1864

 

A Grave Marker For Benjamin Harrison Baird, Killed By a Grizzly Bear On Grave Creek NEar the Rouge River in 1864, and Found In Croxton Memorial Park In Grants Pass, Oregon. Posted By Michael Patrick McCarty
Photograph By James Dolmage

 

“Located in Croxton Memorial Park (in Grants Pass, Oregon) is a large, concrete circle with a number of headstones imbedded in concrete. There are also two plaques that note the names of 90 individuals interred here. This park was once a cemetery for many years but neglect and vandalism forced the city to convert this lot into a city park in 1975. The headstones of the surviving graves were imbedded in concrete to prevent further vandalism and damage.

One of the graves imbedded in concrete is of Benjamin Harrison Baird who was unfortunately killed by a grizzly bear.”

You Can Find More Information Here

California Alta Daily
December 26, 1864
p.1, c. 4

KILLED BY A GRIZZLY — Mr. B. H. Baird, of Jackson county, Oregon, was killed by a grizzly bear while out deer hunting on Grave creek. The following particulars are from the Sentinel: —On the morning of the 28th, about sunrise, Mr. Baird started in pursuit of game, taking his faithful dog, Rover, with him. He proceeded about one mile and a half, when his dog bayed three grizzly bears in their bed. Mr. Baird got within fifteen yards of them, and shot the largest one, only wounding it. The bear pitched at Mr. Baird, who ran about two hundred yards, when the bear caught him and knocked his gun about sixteen feet from him. Getting loose from the bear, he sprang to the limb of a tree, the bear passing under and hitting his feet, went a short distance down the hill, when he stopped to fight the dog. Mr. B. got his gun, re-loaded it, and shot the bear the second time. The bear now came at him more furiously than before, and knocked the gun out of his hand the second time. Mr. B. swung around a bush to keep out of the bear’s reach, drew one of his butcher knives and stabbed the bear in the belly. The bear struck him several severe blows, knocking his knife out of his hand. Mr. B. then drew his second knife, when the bear seized his hand in which he held the knife, causing him to drop it. The bear now got the better of Mr. B., getting him down, biting him in the face, cutting several severe gashes on the left side, tearing out his right eye, and also tearing off all the right side of his face. It bit several large holes in his right side; in fact, bit him nearly all over his body, down to his boots. The bear now turned to fight the dog, that had saved Mr. B. from having been killed on the spot. The bear and the dog then rolled down the hill some distance, still fighting, when Mr. B. gathered up his gun, two knives, the rope with which he had been leading his dog, and started for Mr. Michael’s cabin, distance about one mile and a half, where he arrived, much exhausted, about 10 A.M., and was assisted into the house, when he related the melancholy event to Mr. McDonough. Being conscious that he could not long survive, he spoke of his family, and his desire to see them before he died. He was reconciled to meet his death, and spoke of a future happiness. He died about 8 P.M. of the same day. Mrs. Baird was sent for, and hastened with all possible speed the distance of eighteen miles, over a very rough, hilly road, but arrived about five minutes too late to see her husband alive. He was brought home and buried near the farm, some four miles north of Rogue river, near the stage road. He leaves a wife and sixteen children, eight of whom are but young, and live at home.

 

“…the last officially documented grizzly bear in Oregon was killed along Chesnimnus Creek by a federal trapper on September 14, 1931. According to Jerry Gildemeister’s Bull Trout, Walking Grouse and Buffalo Bones: Oral Histories of Northeast Oregon Fish and Wildlife, however, sheepherders knew of a pair of grizzlies in the Minam drainage on the far western side of the Wallowa Mountains in 1937 and 1938; one of these bears was shot.

Of course, the very last grizzly of Oregon probably escaped the notice of humankind altogether. Whether he or she died in the remote plateau forests flanking the Northeast Oregon canyonlands or the brushy breaks of the Siskiyous—or someplace else entirely—we can only offer a vague, if heartfelt, toast.

Meanwhile, Hells Canyon country has continued to cough up the occasional grizzly rumor over the decades, although it should be noted that many of the black bears here are cinnamon-phase and thus easily confused with their heftier cousins. In Oregon Desert Guide, Andy Kerr reports an alleged sighting from 1979 along Steep Creek a few miles from Homestead, and Gildemeister’s oral histories mention possible grizzly sign noted by a wildlife biologist in 1989 near Smooth Hollow, right along the Snake River below Hat Point.”

From  Oregon Wild, The Last Grizzlies of Oregon By Ethan Shaw

 

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Some Basic Mountain Mulemanship

 

To The Mountain Horse

 

“His sire was Spain; His dam, the Nez-perce. Legs forged on granite anvils; Heart forged by the mountains.

Kin to the bighorn With clever hoof and infinite eye. Drinker of the wind, the dawn-singer, Kin to the elk.

Enduring, gaunt, rock-worn, Lacking titled rank or registry, His labors win the noble heights And the consort of eagles.” – John Madson, From The Elk, 1966

 

A Pack Mule Poses in Front of the Colorado Snow-Covered Peaks, While on an Elk Hunting Trip On Red Table Mountain, Near Basalt.
Mule Over Mountain – A Stunning View From Red Table Mountain Near Basalt, Colorado. Photo by David Massender

 

There is no better way to hunt elk or mule deer in the high Rocky Mountains than by horseback or mule, yet working with pack animals is fast becoming a lost art. Still, there are still some diehards out there, so hats off to all of you pack-in hunters.

Mountain hunting holds a certain romance and allure all its own, and a large part of the experience depends on how you get there. Some prefer horses, others say that mules may be better. But then again, I think I will stay out of that argument.

Still, from what little I know about mules, they always seem to be playing chess when everyone else is playing checkers. They are definitely smart, and so sure-footed too! As many of you know, that can be particularly comforting when your life literally depends on the careful placement of hooves on stone.

Check out this short video for some basic tips.

 

– Video courtesy of Dave Massender. See Dave’s Youtube Channel Here.

 

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Posted by Michael Patrick McCarty

 

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Careless For Just A Second Can Get You Killed

July 18, 2015

karpartenhund / Pixabay

 

I took a seriously bad fall yesterday while scouting for mountain goats, and boy, oh boy…Did That Hurt! I might also add that it still does.

It is generally best to stalk a goat from a position directly above them, and my goal had been to locate a new approach route to the goats I had been scouting this summer. The climb to the peaks above them seemed almost impossible from any direction, but I had to try. Bowhunting almost always has a way to add extra dimensions and complications to the affair.

My approach this day was stopped cold by what appeared to be an almost impassable boulder field of jagged and unstable rock, and you might say that I had probably pushed it harder than my conditioning up to this point would allow. It also became obvious that my balance and confidence in such matters is not what it once was either.

There were some other facts on my mind too. Just two years ago a goat hunter died in the Maroon Bells not far from where I was standing, and that tragic information was never too far removed from the landscape around me. He had been successful too, but then fell from a cliff while packing out his goat.

Still, I wish I could blame what was about to happen on muscle fatigue from the long hike to get there.  Or I could blame it on the loose rock and the steep downhill grade of my return trip.  But the fact is, I was simply moving to fast for trail conditions and I got careless.

Careless in this kind of country can get you hurt. Careless for just a second can get you killed. In this case I was very, very lucky. I simply got hurt.

It happened so fast that I was part way down the hill before I had a chance to worry about my future prospects. I remember the sound my boot made as it scraped the gravel and my feet flew out from under me. I remember feeling my back leave the trail as I began my roll down the slope and through the boulders. I remember the sickening feeling that comes when you know that you are in for a hard landing and there is nothing to be done for it except to accept and absorb the pain and punishment of your bad mistake.

https://www.flickr.com/people/53986933@N00

 

Maroon Lake at peak fall color in late September on the White River National Forest in Colorado.Nestled in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, the 2.3 million-acre White River National Forest is the top recreation forest in the nation. Home to world-renowned ski resorts and the birthplace of Wilderness, the White River has something to offer every outdoor enthusiast. It is located in game management unit 12, and home to a huntable population of rocky mountain goats,, with limited hunting permits.
Maroon Lake at peak fall color in late September on the White River National Forest in Colorado.Nestled in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, the 2.3 million-acre White River National Forest is the top recreation forest in the nation. Home to world-renowned ski resorts and the birthplace of Wilderness, the White River has something to offer every outdoor enthusiast.

 

I wish I could say that I somehow escaped all of that in the end, and I did for the most part. It was over in just a few seconds, and when I landed in the trail under the sharp switch back above I could have shouted for joy that the terrible rolling had ended. That is, if, and only if, had not the wind been partially jarred from my lungs.

I didn’t stay on the ground long though, and I was on my feet and moving down the trail before the dust settled. I couldn’t tell you why I jumped up so fast – perhaps it was my way of pretending that what had just happened could not possibly be true, and if I walked fast enough I could leave the consequences behind.

geralt / Pixabay

 

It didn’t take long to discover the blood trickling from my left elbow, nor the sharp twinge that gradually appeared in my right knee. I did my best to shake it off and ignore such minor inconveniences, for after all, it could have been far, far worse.  And I still had 2 1/2 miles to hike to reach the parking lot and the aspirin bottle I so craved.

That was yesterday, and today I remain battered and rock bruised with a knee that screams for ice and elevation. The knee is my biggest concern, although I think, and pray, that it is just a moderate MCL sprain and nothing worse. The aches and pains and other wounds will heal, but I would not be honest if I did not say that I am more than a little concerned. With luck I will fully recover before it is time to do it all for real.

Flickr/Rob Lee

A few things I know. A hunter’s fate is determined by his relationship with, and actions upon, the mountain. It probably would not be a goat hunt without a fall of some kind somewhere in the mix, and hopefully I have now had mine. A man’s knee will lose a battle with a rock each and every time, and I am probably not the first person that these goats have observed bashing themselves upon the boundaries of their bedroom.

Perhaps that tired old euphemism is true, sometimes, and what did not kill me will make me stronger. I have been initiated upon the altar of stone, and may now have some protection against further mishaps. My boots will be set down more precisely from now on.

No matter what happens, blame cannot be placed at the feet of the goats. They are just being goats, and what becomes of this insignificant, two-legged animal is not their concern. They know as well as any creature on earth the perils of miscalculation, and the mortal ramifications of a misstep. They live with those truths for practically every breath of their life.

So,…please,…be careful out there. There are limits to our abilities, and realities within our desires, and sometimes one step is one step too far.

Careless in this kind of country can get you hurt. Careless for just a second can get you killed.

I will be sure to remember that, as soon as I can bend my knee…

A photograph of mountain peaks taken high in the maroon bells-snomass wilderness in colorado, home to rocky mountain goats and other wildlife and open to limited permit mountain goat hunting
It’s Beautiful, But Oh So Treacherous…

By Michael Patrick McCarty

*It took over a month to begin to start some light walking on my knee, and another two weeks before I could begin to hike in the mountains again. A little too close to opening day before I was able, but I did heal, and I did hunt.

You way wish to take a look at the end results HERE

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Update: July, 2015

We have some very sad news to pass along, for as you may have heard by now a man and his young son  were killed by lightning this week near West Maroon Pass in the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness.

My heart goes out to the family of the victims, and it leaves an ache in my belly that I can’t fully quantify.  Lord knows, I have been in fear for my life many, many times as the sky blew up and the lighting cracked all around me. Death can visit the most experienced of mountaineer’s in an unexpected and blinding flash.

You are truly oblivious to reality if you don’t have one eye on the heavens when hiking at high altitude in the Colorado mountains. It is a stark reminder of just how precious, and fleeting, our time on this great blue ball can be.

God be with them…

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* There are now reports that carbon monoxide poisoning  may be the true cause of death in this case. It may be several weeks before the test results are released.

**It has now been confirmed that they were killed by carbon monoxide poisoning from using their camp stove in an enclosed space (July 28, 2015)

 

Forget Your Aspirin? – No Problem, There’s Always Willow

Hunting, fishing, and other kinds of outdoor fun may have little in common with a bottle of aspirin, but not from my somewhat jaded point of view. A rugged outdoor lifestyle can leave some marks, and at this point in my sporting life I can barely imagine one without the other. It is a small price to pay for a lifetime of wild rewards.

Perhaps I have more nagging and bothersome pains than most, but then again, perhaps not. I just know that I have some issues and several points of contention with my otherwise healthy body, like a little toe that likes to remind me at every step that it is not so happy on a steep uphill grade. Or a neck and lower back that tend to tighten, burn, and throb after a short hike with any kind of weight in my pack.

We all have them, those little nicks and troubles. We nurse them along and suffer through the pain and inconvenience of it all. Making the best of it is the outdoor way, but what  do you do when diet and exercise or body treatments haven’t helped?

Call me trite or unimaginative, but I choose painkillers. Nothing too strong of course, just a couple of  small white pills…the breakfast of champions… a little marine candy…, and more coffee, always coffee, if I can get it.

The problem is I tend to forget it more often than not, a sure sign that many of my springs’ have already sprung which is one of the reasons that I needed the aspirin in the first place.  I usually realize that I forgot it when I am far enough from the truck for my body to finally remind me that I can’t be without it, while at the same time being too far from it to endure the pain to go back and get it. Or something like that.

This can lead to a long, uncomfortable day in the field, wincing at every step while promising my burning brain to never ever ever forget such a small but crucial little item again…until next time that is.

Some things in life are simply not fair, and rarely do they change.

So, if you are like me, take heart. The remedy may be right under your nose, where is exactly where you will want to put it…and it’s called “Willow”.

 

Nature's Pain Killer
Nature’s Pain Killer
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Smething to Chew On