While bow hunters in the southern mountains of Montana were fighting grizzly bears this fall, archers in the Missouri Breaks were battling each other.
Apparently an increase of 66 permits was just too much for the twangers to bear.
According to a recent news release from the Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks, both hunters and law enforcement officers reported more conflicts this year than ever before.
“Several hunters reported verbal threats made against them and assault charges are pending against one individual,” the FWP said.
Wildlife managers blame an increase in hunters and a greater concentration of elk in the river bottom this year.
As the elk population ballooned on the Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge, the waters of Fort Peck Reservoir receded, creating more habitat along the Missouri River bottom.
“Elk sought out those places,” said Matt DeRosier of the CMR.
So did hunters.
But while there’s habitat now where there used to be none, it simply concentrated elk and hunters on the river instead of dispersing them in the Breaks.
A total of 1,715 archery permits were issued for Hunting District 620 in southern Phillips County this year compared to 1,649 in 2006.
Most of those hunters were concentrated along a narrow strip of river bottom running east from the Fred Robinson Bridge to Fourchette Bay.
It’s little wonder there’s no harmony among bowhunters, more than 1,500 nimrods all hoping to stick an arrow in an elk. And until they start walking and talking the camo-clad crowd is invisible to each other.
While rifle hunters are required to wear blaze orange, it’s perfectly legal to dress like a special forces sniper while bow hunting. Unfortunately they’re also starting to act like Rambo.
Hunters tend to shy away from other hunters who wear orange because they spot them at a distance. Archers on the other hand have no such way to avoid confrontation with other archers. They can’t see each other until it’s too late. Somebody is in somebody else’s space. Or face.
Conflict is inevitable.
And we’re going to see it. In this day of camera phones and Youtube someone is sure to capture a couple of bow hunters going at it in an outdoors version of World Extreme Cagefighting.
In the southern mountain ranges bordering Yellowstone National Park this fall four bow hunters tangled with grizzlies.
Along the Missouri river in north-central Montana, a handful of bow hunters exchanged threats and punches.
Too bad they didn’t have grizzly bears to worry about instead of each other.
Parker Heinlein is at pman@mtintouch.net
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Age of two-sport athlete is over
The age of the two-sport athlete is over.
What didn’t work for Michael Jordan shouldn’t work for Montana sportsmen either.
So says Victor Workman, a member of the Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks Commission who wants big game hunters in the state to choose their weapons –- rifle or bow – and no longer be allowed to hunt with both as they can now.
“It’s an effort to curb the amount of wounding that happens by archery hunters who one might describe as part-time hunters,” Workman recently told the Billings Gazette.
The commissioner from District 1 in the northwest part of the state reasons that archers who commit to using only a bow and not switching to a rifle when the general big game season opens will become better shots with a bow. Full-time archers, if you will.
It could be the start of a trend.
In an effort to improve efficiency among outdoor folk of all stripes, perhaps limiting them to one discipline is the ticket.
Fly fishermen, tired of never catching any fish, would no longer be allowed to make the switch to bait.
And vice versa.
Catfish anglers, unable to wash the smell of rancid chicken livers off their hands, couldn’t change into color-coordinated outfits and flail the waters with 9-foot split bamboo rods.
Whitetail hunters who use shotguns and slugs in areas where rifles aren’t allowed would no longer be allowed to hunt elk with their 7–mags. Making the mental switch from short range to long is simply too difficult. Just ask Workman, who claims to have a lot of support for his proposal.
And if weapons-specific laws work, why not species-specific regulations, too?
Turkey hunters would be just that. The law would prevent them from ever taking off their camouflage head nets or face paint – a perfectly acceptable situation for most of them.
Upland bird hunters would have to choose a single species – snipe, for example, or sage grouse. Never firing a shot at anything in the air other than your chosen bird would undoubtedly make you a more efficient hunter.
On the other hand, there’s also the chance Workman’s idea would ruin hunting for a lot of guys who shoot both a rifle and a bow. Fewer opportunities and more rules in a sport some folks say is already dying may not be the direction the FWP Commission wants to go. Especially when even Workman admitted he had no figures on game wounded by either archers or riflemen.
But he’d like you to consider his proposal anyway.
It turned out Michael Jordan couldn’t hit a minor league curve ball. Think what a basketball player he could have been had he never picked up a baseball bat.
Parker Heinlein is at pman@mtintouch.net
What didn’t work for Michael Jordan shouldn’t work for Montana sportsmen either.
So says Victor Workman, a member of the Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks Commission who wants big game hunters in the state to choose their weapons –- rifle or bow – and no longer be allowed to hunt with both as they can now.
“It’s an effort to curb the amount of wounding that happens by archery hunters who one might describe as part-time hunters,” Workman recently told the Billings Gazette.
The commissioner from District 1 in the northwest part of the state reasons that archers who commit to using only a bow and not switching to a rifle when the general big game season opens will become better shots with a bow. Full-time archers, if you will.
It could be the start of a trend.
In an effort to improve efficiency among outdoor folk of all stripes, perhaps limiting them to one discipline is the ticket.
Fly fishermen, tired of never catching any fish, would no longer be allowed to make the switch to bait.
And vice versa.
Catfish anglers, unable to wash the smell of rancid chicken livers off their hands, couldn’t change into color-coordinated outfits and flail the waters with 9-foot split bamboo rods.
Whitetail hunters who use shotguns and slugs in areas where rifles aren’t allowed would no longer be allowed to hunt elk with their 7–mags. Making the mental switch from short range to long is simply too difficult. Just ask Workman, who claims to have a lot of support for his proposal.
And if weapons-specific laws work, why not species-specific regulations, too?
Turkey hunters would be just that. The law would prevent them from ever taking off their camouflage head nets or face paint – a perfectly acceptable situation for most of them.
Upland bird hunters would have to choose a single species – snipe, for example, or sage grouse. Never firing a shot at anything in the air other than your chosen bird would undoubtedly make you a more efficient hunter.
On the other hand, there’s also the chance Workman’s idea would ruin hunting for a lot of guys who shoot both a rifle and a bow. Fewer opportunities and more rules in a sport some folks say is already dying may not be the direction the FWP Commission wants to go. Especially when even Workman admitted he had no figures on game wounded by either archers or riflemen.
But he’d like you to consider his proposal anyway.
It turned out Michael Jordan couldn’t hit a minor league curve ball. Think what a basketball player he could have been had he never picked up a baseball bat.
Parker Heinlein is at pman@mtintouch.net
Sunday, October 14, 2007
A story about a guy from Butte, America
It probably matters more where you’re from this time of year than any other.
Permission to hunt private property is usually granted more readily if the plates on your pickup sport the number of one of Montana’s lesser populated counties.
It may take a bit more time to convince the landowner you’ll shut the gates and not shoot his cows if you’re from out of state or happen to reside in Yellowstone, Gallatin or Flathead counties.
Worse yet, is getting permission to hunt when your rig bears plates with the number 1. Folks who live in Montana’s hinterland remain a bit leery of residents of Butte.
A rough and tumble mining town in its long past prime, Butte isn’t so different from most other Montana cities anymore, unless of course you happen to be from there and think referring to it as “Butte, America,” makes perfect sense.
Luckily, for residents of the Big Sky state’s larger cities, a plethora of new license plates celebrating everything from pets to unborn babies are available to disguise the fact they hail from Billings or Kalispell.
My friend Dallas has special license plates on his pickup. But like any good Butte native, although he has lived in the Gallatin Valley for years, the plates trumpet his heritage. “Butte, the Mining City,” they read.
Folks from Butte, America tend to be proud of it no matter what anyone else thinks.
So here’s a story about a guy from Butte.
Dallas and his 15-year-old son came up to stay with me last weekend for the opener of antelope season.
Fans of the Colorado Rockies, they stayed up until nearly midnight Saturday to watch the Rox beat the Phillies and win the National League Division Series, then woke at 4:30 a.m. to get ready for their hunt.
Dallas had to be back at work the next morning and his kid couldn’t miss school so this was their only day to chase speed goats.
They walked deep into a block management hunting area before first light only to discover every other yahoo with an antelope tag for the area was also hunting there.
But like Buttians do, they persevered. Dallas’s son shot a nice buck and by early afternoon they were back at the house. An hour later they had showered and packed their gear. We said our goodbyes and they climbed into the truck for the five-hour trip back to Manhattan.
A short while later there was a knock on the door. It was Dallas.
Twenty miles south of town, near the area they had been hunting, Dallas and his son spotted two rifles lying by the side of the road.
He said he had been tempted to keep on driving. Let someone else stop. It was already going to be a long trip home.
But the guy from Butte did stop, pick up the rifles and turn the truck around. He’d sure hate to lose his rifle that way, he told me. And the next guy that stopped might just keep them.
Dallas was still at the Phillips County Sheriff’s Office when a young couple walked through the door and announced they’d lost their rifles.
They tried to give Dallas a reward, but he wouldn’t take one, so they stuffed 50 bucks in his kid’s shirt pocket.
His son is going to use the money to take his dad out for a steak dinner.
He’s proud of his old man.
And he should be.
After all, he’s from Butte.
Parker Heinlein is at pman@mtintouch.net
Permission to hunt private property is usually granted more readily if the plates on your pickup sport the number of one of Montana’s lesser populated counties.
It may take a bit more time to convince the landowner you’ll shut the gates and not shoot his cows if you’re from out of state or happen to reside in Yellowstone, Gallatin or Flathead counties.
Worse yet, is getting permission to hunt when your rig bears plates with the number 1. Folks who live in Montana’s hinterland remain a bit leery of residents of Butte.
A rough and tumble mining town in its long past prime, Butte isn’t so different from most other Montana cities anymore, unless of course you happen to be from there and think referring to it as “Butte, America,” makes perfect sense.
Luckily, for residents of the Big Sky state’s larger cities, a plethora of new license plates celebrating everything from pets to unborn babies are available to disguise the fact they hail from Billings or Kalispell.
My friend Dallas has special license plates on his pickup. But like any good Butte native, although he has lived in the Gallatin Valley for years, the plates trumpet his heritage. “Butte, the Mining City,” they read.
Folks from Butte, America tend to be proud of it no matter what anyone else thinks.
So here’s a story about a guy from Butte.
Dallas and his 15-year-old son came up to stay with me last weekend for the opener of antelope season.
Fans of the Colorado Rockies, they stayed up until nearly midnight Saturday to watch the Rox beat the Phillies and win the National League Division Series, then woke at 4:30 a.m. to get ready for their hunt.
Dallas had to be back at work the next morning and his kid couldn’t miss school so this was their only day to chase speed goats.
They walked deep into a block management hunting area before first light only to discover every other yahoo with an antelope tag for the area was also hunting there.
But like Buttians do, they persevered. Dallas’s son shot a nice buck and by early afternoon they were back at the house. An hour later they had showered and packed their gear. We said our goodbyes and they climbed into the truck for the five-hour trip back to Manhattan.
A short while later there was a knock on the door. It was Dallas.
Twenty miles south of town, near the area they had been hunting, Dallas and his son spotted two rifles lying by the side of the road.
He said he had been tempted to keep on driving. Let someone else stop. It was already going to be a long trip home.
But the guy from Butte did stop, pick up the rifles and turn the truck around. He’d sure hate to lose his rifle that way, he told me. And the next guy that stopped might just keep them.
Dallas was still at the Phillips County Sheriff’s Office when a young couple walked through the door and announced they’d lost their rifles.
They tried to give Dallas a reward, but he wouldn’t take one, so they stuffed 50 bucks in his kid’s shirt pocket.
His son is going to use the money to take his dad out for a steak dinner.
He’s proud of his old man.
And he should be.
After all, he’s from Butte.
Parker Heinlein is at pman@mtintouch.net
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