QU Comments.....

Following are comments from the original short-story after it was posted on Upland Journal Magazine...

Briarscratch

I think I need a drink after reading that! No wait, make it a double.
Hell of story MB.

L.Gallagher

You might have had a hand in it, but something tells me there were many, many hands in it, and that the problems started a LONG time ago. I've been hearing about problems with QU for more than a decade.

TooDogs

You know, if you'd of just smacked that yuppie in the beginning, things would have gone OK after that; so much for constraint
DowntownBang
My guess is they orchestrated their own demise. But still a good story.

HazelNut

Moe -- That is a helluva story. Don't know if smacking the yuppie would've helped save QU, but knocking the pi$$ out of Rocky Evans would have.

KDVollmer

A good story indeed, though had you just knocked him out back then, you would have felt lots better then, and you would still be feeling pretty good about it as you look back with a smile!

BearKat

Gives me a hang over just reading that. I agree with HazelNut. Should have found Rocky to knock around.

FrugalPointer

You post a story and I'll read it. Real life is always more interesting than fiction. FP

Dave Gowdey

Moe,

While it seems that you had more than your share of alcoholic folly - such follies don't bring down major organizations. As Linda noted, what brought down QU was that a couple of guys who founded the organization seem to have done so more as a way to make themselves a lot of money and to hobknob with celebrities than to help Quail.

I can guarantee you that had there been any indication that QU was really helping turn quail numbers around - it would be a healthy and thriving organization. Unfortunately, despite all of the hard work and money raised by members and volunteers for decades. QU has made little if any difference at all to quail numbers. Mismanagement, unprofessionalism, and a lack of financial integrity are what finally did QU in.

Your stories just provide some comic relief to what is otherwise a great conservation tragedy.

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Madison, Midges, and a Moron…

As a fitting reminder to how stupid it was to go fishing in 50 mph winds last week, when I’d opened my trucks door the wind caught and hyper-extended it buckling the front quarter panel; with an audible “pop”!? Followed immediately with an audible:

“Mother #x&@….” from yours truly

…Now, as I make short trips to and from the local market I’m reminded of the fruitless day when we ventured after bloody catch-and-release trout during a phenomenal midge hatch, where I couldn’t even get the line to land in the water; by the deafening wind sounds entering my truck’s cab and drowning out the radio because of a permanently ruined seal of my driver’s side door?!

“Mother #x&@….”

When the cursing at myself becomes too much, Suzie will sit-up in the passenger seat, cock her little head, and reach over and lay her paw on my forearm; which always has a calming effect on me and I apologize to both her and Mocha - assuring them: “it’s not you who I’m cursing at, but myself?”

This seems to work and they lay back down and I’ll tune in a better song and crank it up louder than the wind and that damned cold draft hitting the left side of my stupid assed head which is empty because I went to try and catch a mother #x&@……

Then Suzie will sit up again and we’ll go thru this scenario a half-dozen times until we get home.

Her gesture is about the kindest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s a mixture of an old trick of “high-five” I taught her as a puppy and whatever else goes on in that cute little head of hers when she wants me to calm down while I’m driving her around doing 70 miles per-hour and cursing at myself.

…Because of this I have refused to go fishing until the wind dies down a bit, the bite picks up considerably, …and am making far fewer trips locally just the same.


Moe

OCD and shed hunting...

It appears 'hunting in general' and OCD are afflictions of the same; or at least those who pursue the sport are more inclined to catch it.
Whether its deer, elk, bird, hog, or coon,..somewhere there's a fella who its all he ever thinks about day or night; and drives everyone around him insane till he gets his 'fix'...?!

'Fly fishermen' aren't immune either, as I saw some serious cases of it come into the shop last year; and in fact it could be said the entire populous of Fort Smith has it.

Add booze to the mix and your in trouble. Subtract booze from the equation and its solely dependent on whether you have any friends or a job; before you go off the deep end once again. Thus brings me to the subject of finding bloody shed antlers (or not finding them); and driving all over creation certain they're all over the Montana landscape - and if I don't go 100 mph to get to wherever I'm going; someone else will pick them up before I do..?!

Problem being of course, for the most part, there still on their heads?!

Idiot.

I'd actually found one Saturday evening, a small five-point left beam; its ivory tips glistening in the setting sun, and then raced up the steep mountains' face the 400 yards to retrieve it 'double-time' as I was pretty certain it wasn't on public land..? My suspicions were confirmed when the old lady walking her dog past my truck, gave me the 'landowner stink eye'; and I mumbled something about "there's a bunch of pretty deer up there"! Holding up my camera, as if I was a greenhorn winter tourist who'd never seen one before..?

Once I was back in the truck and began admiring the large antler up close, while the girls gave it a few curious sniffs,..it was then my OCD really kicked in?! I was dizzy from the overexertion itself, but this was something else entirely. I hadn't felt it in a long time, not since elk-season itself; so I didn't recognize it as such. Instead I simply went home, dropped an email to my buddy Mooch telling him so, then spent the rest of the night ogling this beautiful antler and 'wanting to find more'...

I didn't sleep a wink and first thing Sunday morning I was up before dawn and putting my boots on. I decided I'd be a better hunter if I left the girls at home, so I fed them quick and shooed them out the backdoor then hopped in the truck and put the hammer down. As I was cruising through Four-Corners on my way headed toward the Madison Range, I was surprised to see the antler fella standing outside his chandelier shop on a Sunday; so I pulled in to bend his ear on good spots to look?

Turned out, he informed me, that aside form the young ones; spikes and whatnot; the older bulls still likely had there's on. "Hmm, so I'm not behind after all?" I asked figuring I was late to the game.

"Nope, should be happening right about now" he said.

This did little to persuade me to reconsider hauling the mail westward, and I was passing folks like they were sitting still fore long; just about shaking with excitement at finding another. Its then I spotted the tell tail signs of tourist mischief on the roadside and slowed to investigate. At least half a dozen cars and trucks had pulled over and something off in the distance had their occupants' attention?

I quickly determined what...as I spied well over 500 elk on the mountainside and another large band in the valleys' interior. Way too far off for any good pics, but I spent the next 20 minutes scanning the areas between each of their ears until I got a headache and determined the majority lacked any antlers as far as I could tell; so I floored it toward nowhere fast and once I got there I spied another truck and about rear-ended it out of anger!

"Shit!"

That was one spot I'd fantasized about all night, a slow and even climb that wouldn't wind-me too quickly, and likely a good place to start as I recalled seeing a group of bulls there a few weeks back; but now some dog walker shooting ground squirrels with his new .22 and his Lab were gonna find them first?

He said he wasn't even looking, but him being an obvious hunter, it didn't take me a minute to figure he'd grab one if he saw it. We stood and chatted a bit and it seemed he didn't mind the company, but I fell behind quickly once I figured it a waste of time and headed back to my rig to look elsewhere.

He'd mentioned "a herd of 4,000 down past the airport below Ennis", and since I'd yet to see one of these massive groups yet; I headed that way as it were only another 16 miles. Of course knowing where Ennis is and not knowing where the airport is, nor willing to stop and ask; I simply took the road I thought it'd be on "just outside town" as the fella had said, and spent the next two hours on the wrong side of the Madison River seeing plenty of trophy homes, but zero trophy elk?

Idiot.

Then I saw them and yes there were over two-thousand at least, but "4", I don't think so? Still, it was the largest I'd seen yet, but again these wise animals in mass had taken up a spot in the middle of a gigantic ranchers' pasture and the closest one could get was half-a-mile at best to them, even after circling them for fifty miles and the trucks' gas gauges heading toward 'E', as is common with me. So I simply cruised slowly scanning every blade of grass in the setting sun, now having spent the entire day behind the wheel, and looked for those telltale horns sticking out, but saw none.

Figuring I was 'well over an hour from home' and it growing dark, I decided it was time to find a paved road and head out. On the way down my last stretch of dirt I spied a small band of elk staring at me intently; so slowed to take a shot (pic posted). After zooming in it became apparent; even the young bulls in this group were still sporting their junk; so after all this it appears I'm still 'very early' and will continue next week in search of more.

The affliction still strong...

Moe