This Place is for the Birds

My foray into some basic birding began with me getting sick of asking Outdoor Guy "What's that?" or "And that bird would be..." He's never reluctant to answer. In fact, sometimes he'll pop off with the common name AND the scientific name. Show off.

Not that it's hard to show me up when it comes to birds. I spent my youth in dusty arenas learning about flying lead changes and balancing hog rations, not loons and bitterns. If you need a cow or a horse or even a sheep identified, I'm your girl. Birds...not so much.

The final straw came a few weeks ago while visiting in Sheridan. We were outside enjoying the warm spring day and a week-old dairy calf, a Brown Swiss that I was easily able to identify. I pointed out a bird alternating between pecking at a tree and pecking at the suet hanging in the tree. (Suet, by the way, is just a fancy term for animal fat. Learned that one the hard way too.)

"You mean, that bird right there, the one with the red head pecking the wood? Well, dear, that would be a red-headed woodpecker."

In his defense, I don't think he was trying to be condescending. I think I'm just not used to not being the most brilliant one in the room. It was positively irritating.

"Ahhh," I replied with as much pride and indignation as I could muster. Stupid college wildlife majors anyway.

Since then, I've vowed to become a better birder and pay more attention to my avian neighbors.

It's been fun, peering out the window and trying to identify the species at which I'm looking. Just by keeping my eyes open, I've noticed more and different birds in the last three months than I think I have in my three years at the Game and Fish - kingfishers, great gray owls, tanagers, etc. On a recent trip to Jackson, I got to see a pair of sandhill cranes come in for a landing on a pond just adjacent to the road.

The Wyoming Bird Check List, distributed by the Wyoming Game and Fish Department under the Worth the Watching program, lists more than 400 bird species that spend at least some time in the Cowboy State. Fifty-nine of those species are classified as Species of Greatest Conservation Need under the department's 2005 Comprehensive Wildlife Conservation Strategy. Some birds, like the sage grouse, we know a lot about. Others, like the dickcissel or lark bunting, we need more data on to determine population stability - where they live, how many there are, preferred habitats, etc.

Birding is a great way to get more involved in the outdoors and learn more about wildlife and the natural landscape. It's an easy, inexpensive hobby that can be both healthful and fun. I've gotten a number of tips from lifetime bird watchers over the last few weeks to help me better enjoy my newfound hobby. I'll share them with you here, so hopefully when you take to the skies this summer, you're better equipped to enjoy the bird beautification around us.

1. Study, study, study

With so many species calling Wyoming home, it hasn't been hard to start finding birds to watch. The hardest part is identifying them. That's where a comprehensive field guide comes in handy. A good field guide will help you learn the basic bird groups and tell you where you might find them at what times of the year. I bought the National Geographic version, as recommended by Outdoor Guy. Western Birds, one book in the Peterson Field Guide Series, is also very popular. As it so happens, you can purchase Western Birds directly from the Wyoming Game and Fish Department's online gift store by clicking here. Field guides are also available from your local bookstore or online merchants like Amazon.com or BarnesandNoble.com. Take the time to read the introductory pages of the field guide too. They contain additional tips that can help you be more productive.

Hearing is a bird's strongest sense and they communicate through sound signals. Hearing the birds is half of the fun. Purchase or download audio CDs and DVDs that help with bird identification through song. If you are a technology junkie like me, you can download those to an IPOD or other MP3 player and take then into the field with you, making for instant song idenfitication.

2. Invest Wisely
When compared to hunting or fishing, bird-watching is inexpensive. You can get started birding with just a good field guide and pair of binoculars. But don't scrimp too much - buy the best equipment you can afford. A good pair of binoculars or a spotting scope will make a world of difference to you. I went birding with a friend outside of Lander a few weeks ago, and even with a telephoto lens on my digital camera, I still couldn't see what she could with a good spotting scope. The ruddy duck she pointed out might has well have been a duck silhouette at a carnival shooting gallery for all I knew. I missed out on seeing great species because I just didn't have the right equipment.

There are lots of articles and information out there on buying binoculars or spotting scopes, so I won't repeat that information here. It all comes down to what feels good to you and what you are willing to spend. If you still aren't sure where to start, ask other birders you know for advice on optics or visit www.birdwatching.com or www.birdingguide.com and browse their birding optics section for ideas.

Other equipment and items you'll need are comfortable shoes or boots for hiking, a coat to keep you warm and dry, a hat to protect your head and of course, sunscreen and bug repellent. A camera can also help you document your adventures, especially if you have one with a powerful telephoto lens.

3. Habitat is for the Birds
This may sound like common sense, but go to where there are birds! There are only so many species you can see in a single location, so plan some field trips to known birding hotspots. These may be local ponds or wetlands, or a national forest, park or national refuge. If there are certain birds you are interested in watching, learn about their preferred habitats and seek out those areas.

Be sensitive to the time of year as well. Many Wyoming bird species are migratory animals, meaning they only spend part of their time in our state. Know when the migration seasons are, so you can plan accordingly and see new species as they are traveling through.

It might also go without saying, but be respectful of the habitat and the birds. Keep well back from nests, nesting colonies, roosts, display areas and important feeding sites. Take advantage of natural cover or try using a blind to minimize disturbance to the birds. Always be respectful of private property rights and local regulations concerning wildlife watching.

4. Take Good Notes

Get a notebook to take bird-watching with you and get in the habit of taking notes. Sketching and taking field notes will improve your observation skills. Write notes about what the bird looks like, where you found it and what it was doing. Look at size, shape, color, plumage, etc. Document the type of habitat it was in and sketch out a picture of the bird. You don't have to be the best artist in the world - remember, this is something fun just for you!

Consider picking up a copy of the Wyoming Bird Checklist. The checklist is a free-publication distributed by the Game and Fish that has a listing of bird species found in Wyoming during the year. It offers a small space for you to record notes and can be a fun way to keep track of the species you've seen. The checklist is available for free at all Game and Fish offices across the state. There are also electronic diaries available for purchase for the more sophisticated birder. For once, I'm going the old fashioned way - a spiral notebook with a pocket for my checklist and yellow #2 pencil with a now slighly used eraser (turns out that ibis I saw two weeks ago was actually an American avocet. See why a field guide is essential?)

Don't forget to document the sounds you hear as well. When you hear a bird's song, describe it to yourself in words. To me the yellow-headed blackbird call sounds like an electronic screech or croaking frog so that helps me remember its call. It might help to associate a word or phrase with the song. For example, to me, the western meadowlark sounds like its saying, cheerfully, I might add "Who's There? Who's it Gonna Be?" That phrase helps me remember the cadence and pitch of its song.

5. Bring the Birds to You
You can attract birds to your own yard with just a little work. Birds are like any other wildlife species, and need all four habitat elements to survive - food, water, shelter and space. Flowers, shrubs and trees can all be used for food and shelter. Consider a bird feeder, birdhouse or bird bath to further entice winged wonders to your home.

However, be warned. A few summers ago I found the cutest birdhouse at Hobby Lobby, and hung it up a few fenceposts away from my bird feeder. Not only did the squirrels destroy the feeder, wasps moved into the birdhouse. Not quite the backyard guests I was going for!

There are plenty of resources on backyard bird habitat. Just make sure you set up your yard to protect the birds from predators such as domestic pets, squirrels, insects or snakes.

6. Share the experience

As you start bird-watching, spend some time in the field with an experienced birder. Ask questions, take notes and try to be open to new facets of birding. Consider joining a local bird watching group or bird advocacy group such as Audubon. In Wyoming, there are five local Audubon chapters that host different events, field trips and seminars. (Click here for a listing of Wyoming chapters and contact information)

Also, take friends and family. The best experiences in life are often those shared with others. Bird-watching can be a standalone activity, or fit right in with other outdoor adventures such as floating, hiking, fishing or hunting. So get out there and enjoy the landscape. You'll be amazed at what you'll find just by tuning into the world around you.

Beat a Path (And the Bucket) To Yellowstone

Earlier this year, the movie "The Bucket List," hit theatres in the U.S. The story follows two terminally ill men, Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, on a road trip with a wish list of things to do before they die, or "kick the bucket." The movie met with mixed reviews from critics, and hasn't yet appeared in my mailbox courtesy of Netflix.

While I haven't seen the movie, I can relate, as I have my own bucket list of sorts. I used to call it the "Things to do before I'm 30 List," but as that particular milestone has come and gone, I've had to revise its title. Bucket list seems as adequate as anything else.

Some of my bucket list items are personal - get married, start a family, write a novel, learn to play the guitar. Some items center around my career and new enthusiasm for outdoor pursuits - get my cutt-slam, win an Association for Conservation Information award, deer hunt with a certain cute guy without completely embarassing myself. Then there are the places I'd like to visit sometime before my ultimate demise - New York City, Ireland and yes, even Disney World.

Last month, I got to cross one of those places off my list -- Yellowstone National Park.

Friends and collagues were shocked to learn that as a Wyoming native, I'd never visited our country's first national park. Almost everyone I know took a family vacation to Yellowstone. But raising five kids on a single salary didn't allow my parents the luxury of many family vacations. Logistics and finances dictated that our family adventures be more practical, usually centered around a work conference my dad had to attend or a rodeo he would announce in his spare time. We visited Jackson, Dallas, Laramie and Lander and many places in between, but the Cole family station wagon with its brown wood paneling never made it to Yellowstone.

I was attending a meeting with Wyoming Wildlife magazine editor Chris Madson and associate editor Judith Hosafros in Bozeman, Montana. We were there to meet with other members of the magazine cooperative that helps the Game and Fish deliver Wyoming Wildlife to our 36,000 subscribers each month. When Chris told me he was hoping to drive into Yellowstone and shoot some photographs one afternoon, I invited myself along for the ride.

We entered the park through the north entrance, driving directly under the Roosevelt Arch, a giant stone archway that has greeted visitors to the park for more than 100 years. President Theodore Roosevelt was visiting the park at the time of its construction, and laid the cornerstone for the arch, which then took his name. The arch is inscribed with "For the benefit and enjoyment of the people."

Had the rest of the trip been a bust, I would have been tickled pink just to make it that far. Teddy Roosevelt has always been one of my favorite figures from history, for his contributions to natural resources and his colorful personality. I have a photo of my great, great grandfather, M.P. Keefe, then mayor of Cheyenne and colorful personality in his own right, having dinner in his home with President Roosevelt, who was in Cheyenne for a local celebration. The arch was a neat connection to my own past, and a great reminder of why I work to help conserve wildlife-- for the benefit and enjoyment of all.

The rest of the trip, however, didn't disappoint. Once in the park, we followed the road to Mammoth and then east on to Cooke City. Immediately, I could see why millions of visitors have been drawn to the area over the last century. Even under a few feet of snow, the landscape was beautiful. The day was overcast and gray, not exactly conducive light for taking photos, but the wildlife didn't know that and were out in full force. Deer, elk and pronghorn greeted us in Mammoth. A few miles up the road, I spotted two bighorn sheep ewes placidly enjoying a late lunch. We saw red-tailed hawks, mallards, goldeneyes, osprey, mountain bluebirds and even a kingfisher.

Had their been more than about five cars on the road, we would have gotten caught in a bison jam. A few bulls meandered across our path, not much caring about us one way or the other.

Bison are the largest mammals in Yellowstone National Park, with mature bulls weighing upward of 2,000 pounds. Despite their massive size, bison are quick and agile. They can run at speeds of up to 40 miles per hour and sport curved, sharp horns that can grow to two feet long.

I've been around enough domestic bison to know I don't want to tangle with one. They are big, powerful and demand respect. But each year, more people are hurt by bison than by bears in Yellowstone, despite park regulations requiring visitors to stay at least 25 yards away from the animals.

I've seen photos of visitors just feet from a mature bison and wondered what in the blazes was going through their minds. These are wild animals, folks, not a donkey at a petting zoo. But as we tooled along the roadway, I began to understand how uneducated tourists could be duped into getting too close. The bisons' big shaggy coats and lumbering gait give them a deceptively friendly appearance. I guess if I didn't know better, I might be tempted to reach my hand out the car window and try to pet one. God bless the park rangers who work to try to keep all us idiot visitors safe...

I eagerly lapped up Chris's knowledge of the area, making mental notes of places he suggested for camping, fishing or hiking. I spotted a hillside covered with blackened trees and asked Chris where the 1988 fires had occurred. He explained the origination of fire that caused the aftermath we were looking at, and gave me a brief review of that memorable summer.

In the 1940s, scientists recognized that fire can aid ecosystems, including the arid mountainous western United States. By the 1970s, Yellowstone and other parks had instituted a natural fire management plan to allow the process of lightning-caused fire to continue influencing wildland succession.

The summer of 1988 turned out to be the driest in the park's recorded history. By the end of July, fires within the park alone encompassed nearly 99,000 acres, and by the end of the month, dry fuels and high winds combined to make the larger fires virtually uncontrollable. News reporters and firefighters from around the country poured into the park. Throughout August and early September, some park roads and facilities were closed to the public. Nearby towns feared for their property. Yellowstone's fire management policy was the topic of heated debate, no pun intended, across the country.

I could remember standing on the playground at my elementary school in Cheyenne, staring at the weird orange hue of the sun. My dad explained that I was seeing the smoke from the Yellowstone fires. Even 8 hours from the blazes, the acrid smell was distinct to my seven-year old nose. I asked my dad if the animals would be okay. He assured me that most of the animals had plenty of time to escape the fire, explaining that it wasn't quite like I'd seen in the Disney movie Bambi.

The fires were eventually dampened by early winter snows and extinguished completely in November. The fires affected 793,880 acres, or 36 percent of the park. Turns out, my dad was a pretty good layman wildlife biologist. According to the Yellowstone National Park Web site, surveys found about 408 animals that died as a direct result of the fires, a very small portion of the total number of wild animals that called the park home. Total costs to fight the fires exceeded $120 million.

The burned trees that still stood were a stark contrast to the pristine snow. It made the hillside look sad and forlorn. But after the initial destruction came new life. The fires created a mosaic of burned and unburned areas that provided new habitats for plants and animals and has given scientists a living classroom where they can study the effects of fire. They've learned that grasslands returned to pre-fire-appearance within a few years, with some grasses providing more nutrients than before. Aspen reproduction increased by fire stimulating the growth of suckers from the underground root system. And when I looked beyond the burned sentinels, I could see younger trees re-colonizing in most of the burned areas.

We turned around in Cooke City, content with all that we had seen and experienced. But this place still had a few treats in store for us. On our way out of the park, we saw a lone black wolf in the Lamar Valley, a great gray owl perched in a tree and a coyote trotting down the side of the road just as oblivious to our car as the bison had been. I snapped the obligatory photo from the car window as he passed to document my travels.

Yellowstone was definitely a special place. Even in winter, in poor light, on a whirlwind trip on just one road of the park, I had a blast seeing all the wildlife and experiencing the natural world. The diversity of life and nature was astounding. From the world's largest collection of geyers to an abundance of wildlife, Yellowstone is packed to the boundaries with adventures waiting to be had. Early explorers called it "Wonderland" for good reason.

Actually, Yellowstone will stay on my list. I plan to return to cast a fly for native cutthroat trout, witness Old Faithful gush its thermal treasure and explore the many trails and water falls. Maybe someday, I'll take my own family through Roosevelt Arch, building lists of birds and wildlife we were able to see and goofing on the tourists who cause bear and bison jams.

Podcasts, photos, books and documentaries are great, but even modern technology is no substitute for visiting Wyoming's wild places like Yellowstone Park. You can bet I'll beat a path, and the bucket, back to that corner of the state before long.

The Great Outdoors - Accept No Substitutes

I think I have tennis elbow. My right arm is sore and achy and it when fully extended. It's embarrassing, considering I don't play tennis - at least not the kind the kind that requires an actual court and racquet. You know you are out of shape when you hurt yourself playing a video game.

I spent the weekend playing video tennis, among other games, on the Nintendo Wii. It's a pretty amazing gaming system. It consists of a console and wireless controllers that are sort of like pointing devices, and can translate the motion of your hand into movement on the game. For instance you swing the controller like you would an actual racquet, baseball bat or ping-pong paddle, and your character on the game responds in like fashion. The controller is so sensitive that when I let go of the button too soon on my bowling backswing, the ball flew behind me like it would in real life. The little Wii characters watching the game from the snack bar even pointed and laughed at me!

There are dozens of different games you can get for this machine, including sports, action, fantasy and kids games. You can fish or hunt ducks or wildlife, courtesy of games like Cabela's Big Game Hunter. We competed in about twenty different Olympic Events, including archery and skeet shooting. My favorite is though cow racing - a game where you race cows over a course, jumping hurdles and running into scarecrows for extra points. I think I just like it because it's one of the few games I can win. I pretty much got thumped in everything else.

The Wii has been in the news a lot lately. For one, they are hard to find. They are so popular, stores can't keep them in stock. But the consoles are also crossing generational boundaries. Video games are generally thought of as something for the younger audience. But Wiis have become popular among the elderly, including at senior centers and nursing homes. Most of the games are pretty simple to play and get you up and get you moving in some fashion. I found news articles about senior citizen center Wii bowling, golfing and fishing tournaments.

Finally, a video game that isn't completely sedentary. I have to admit, I was a little winded after boxing. In fact, a study by the Mayo Clinic released this year showed that playing physical games was beneficial in fighting obesity, at least in children. I also read testimonials from Wii owners who had lost between five and thirty pounds just from playing their Wii. Its being touted by some parents as the a way to get kids active and exercising.

As I made the long trip home from my weekend of fun and frivolity, I contemplated the many wonders, and shortcomings of the Wii. The technology is pretty cool, and it was a heck of a lot of fun. But as amazing as it is, and even if it can give you tennis elbow, it's certainly no substitute for real activity. No video game is.

It's scary to me to think that there is a generation out there who will only experience the great outdoors, including hunting and fishing, through a television screen and a gaming console.

Never mind the fact that ethics, sportsmanship and conservation play no real role in these virtual adventures. No matter how sensitive the controller, no matter how realistic the graphics, no matter how exciting the action, in no way can a game compare to the real experience.

Technology can never truly replicate the sound of bull elk bugling across the canyon or turkeys gobbling just yards away from your hiding place. A controller will never feel better in your hand than a well-loved rifle stock. You can't smell the sage or taste fresh pan-fried brookie through a television.

The experiences of getting outdoors and hunting, fishing, hiking, boating, camping or otherwise exploring the countryside are ones a lot of us take for granted. But the percentage of the population that actively hunt or fish grows smaller and smaller each year. That's a concern for the Wyoming Game and Fish Department, not only because license dollars represent the bulk of our operating budget, but also because healthy fish and wildlife populations depend on an active public. Hunters and anglers are the driving force behind fish and wildlife management, habitat protection and resource conservation. But as modern society is becoming more urbanized, we become more disconnected from our outdoor heritage and consequently, our stewardship ethic.

The Wyoming Game and Fish Department has identified hunter and angler recruitment as one our top outreach priorities in the coming years. True, the Game and Fish needs the financial base of hunters and anglers. But we also need active and vocal sportsmen and women who care about wildlife to speak up in the political arena as well. Wildlife needs a strong constituent base, and it starts with hunters and anglers. I suspect the challenges we've seen on a landscape level will pale in comparison to what the next generation will face. Are we doing our part to make sure there is a next generation of hunters and anglers?

As the miles ticked by and my muscles twitched as I held the car steady on the nasty roads, I decided I needed to put down the controller and put on my hiking boots. The weather is getting warmer, the days are getting longer. Soon the skies will be clear and the fish will be biting. I need to get off the couch and go see these beautiful spots in the Bighorns I've been hearing about for the last six months. I need to quit bemoaning my holiday weight gain and focus on gaining muscle and endurance for the fall hunting season. My arms should ache from casting practice, not a goofy video game. I needed to feel the sun on my face, the wind in my hair and the burn in my lungs from a challenging hike.

Better yet, I need to practice what I preach and get the next generation off the couch and in the wild. I vowed to take my nieces and nephews fishing this summer, a promise I made but didn't follow through on last July. Heck, maybe I'd even go for Coolest Aunt on the Planet and take them camping overnight while I was at it. Just me, a campfire, some marshmallows and eight kids between the ages of six and fifteen in the open country.

On second thought, just fishing is probably fine. The kids probably won't return from a trip to Pole Mountain ready to chuck their Gameboys for a fishing pole, but at least they'll have the chance to decide for themselves which is cooler - putting a worm on a hook, catching a fish and physically holding it in their hands or watching some animated character do it on a TV screen. The next generation will never know how great the great outdoors can be unless we give them the chance to experience it firsthand.

So spring has sprung and summer is right around the corner. It's time to turn off the Wiis and tune into the great landscape and outdoor opportunities around us. Just let me whoop this boy at one more cow race.

Puppy Love

My quest for the world's best second dog ended last fall. For several months, I'd gone back and forth on adding another canine member to my little family, debating among no dog, a companion dog or some sort of hunting dog.

In the end, the companion won out. I realized that hunting dogs, like a pointer or a springer, are dogs meant to have a job. They are bred for action in the field, not lazy spring days sleeping in until 10 a.m. So with neither the time, nor the expertise to turn an energy-laden pup into a lean, mean, hunting-machine, I settled on finding a four-legged friend for me and Hoops, my Golden Retriever-German Shepherd mix.

So off to the local animal shelters and rescue centers I went. After a few weeks of searching, I found him - a six-week old red heeler mix named Helton. I think it was the name that suckered me. After all, what normal Front Range resident didn't get swept up in baseball fever as the Colorado Rockies, and first baseman Todd Helton, marched on to the World Series? On the very day I just missed getting Series tickets, up pops a little e-mail from the local shelter. "Love the Rockies? Come meet Helton!" it said. It was an omen. It was fate. The Rockies would win the Series and I had found my perfect puppy.

Um, no, not so much. My beloved Rox ended up losing to the Boston Red Sox in an abysmal 4-game sweep, and I ended taking home a squirmy yellow dog that looks like a bat. Funny how fate can send you on a detour.

To get to the puppies, I had to walk right past the adult dogs waiting to be adopted. I barely glanced at the older puppies as I pressed on to meet Helton. But one glance had me laughing out loud. There sat Chrissy, a four-month old lab mix. She had yellow fur and giant-bat like ears. She looked like a cross between Old Yeller and Piglet from the Winnie-the-Pooh cartoons. The dog was positively ridiculous-looking. When she heard me giggle, she cocked her head, first to one side, then the other. I was about to move on to the puppy room when I swear, that darn dog put her paw on the gate and smiled at me. Yes, she saw me turn to leave and she smiled at me.

Well, it was kind of smile. More like a half-snarl, half-toothy grin. Then she wagged her tail and pressed her nose to the gate. I held out my hand and received just one soft-wet nose kiss before she wandered back to the back of her kennel and flopped on the floor.

So on to the puppies and home with Helton the wonder pup. But somehow, after Little-Miss-Sunshine in the other room, the sleepy blob of heeler puppy just didn't have any appeal. Uh-oh, I thought, I just fell in love. Puppy love.

The next night, Hoops had a new sister and the yellow puppy had a new home and new name. The smiling wonder was named Roxy, fittingly named after my beloved, if beleaguered, Colorado Rockies.

Life has since been a whirlwind. Roxy has certainly brightened my life with her silly smiles and puppy antics. I've learned that labs have incredible intestinal fortitude -- she''s eaten reading glasses, a paperback novel, a calculator, a CD and three pages of scrapbook stickers. She might have gotten away without me knowing about the stickers, except for the wayward R, K and B stuck to the top of her head. I'm convinced she was trying to spell the word BARK.

I've also learned to be careful what you wish for. For two months, Roxy refused to go up and down stairs, choosing instead to sit at the top and howl until her humans returned from the basement. My niece and nephew taught Roxy that stairs aren't so scary after all. In fact, stairs were so much fun she couldn't wait until morning to run up and down them. Did you know that a 30-pound dog running up and down 15 stairs at 2:30 in the morning sounds roughly like a herd of bison stampeding through your camp site?

And I learned that while the verdict is still out on old dogs learning new tricks, old dogs can indeed teach old tricks to new puppies. Hoops has systematically taught all of his bad habits to Roxy. She's learned how to beg for yogurt cups, hog the bed and last, but certainly not least, how to leave her rawhide in the middle of the hallway where I'm sure to step on it in the middle of the night. Together, they've invented a game I like to call "Make the Mistress Yell," where they will slowly stalk one another around the coffee table until the cue is given. Then they race to the bedroom, leap across the bed, tear down the stairs, circle the recliner and haul back up the stairs to the living room, giving nary a thought to whatever, or whomever, might be in their path. The first dog to bleed or get nabbed by me and thrown outside is considered the loser.

I do however have high hopes for her future hunting potential. She accompanied me one day while I worked the Springer check station last fall. The dog definitely has some hunting heritage in her, she managed to flush and retrieve every last pheasant part on the place. She'd pounce on a wing that had blown free of the trash can, then triumphantly return to me, dropping her bounty at my feet in delight.

Actually, she has caught on rather quickly to basic obedience, and listens well when we are out of the house and working outdoors. I'm crate-training Roxy, and I've decided that's the only way to go. I shudder to think of what my house would look like if she were left to her own devices during the day. The words tornado and total destruction come to mind.

Maybe next fall we can move on to live birds, if she doesn't eat my shotgun first. Even if I don't have a new hunting weapon, I have another source of unconditional love and a three-ring circus in my living room that is better entertainment than any show I'll ever get on cable.

Man, I should have gotten a Springer.

A Race Against Time

As I hiked the half mile through crusted snow toward the exclosure to inspect a big Wyoming sage plant, three things came to mind…First, I'm out of shape. It was only about half a mile, and I was huffing and puffing like the wolf in the three little pigs story. If I don't hit the gym soon, there's no way I'll be able to keep up with the cute boy deer hunting this fall.

Second, I need better cold weather socks. My fleece-lined socks are okay for keeping my feet warm in the office and shoveling snow, but they weren't really up to par for hiking across the frozen tundra. Besides, if any of my co-workers would have seen that my socks had Tweety Bird on them, I might not have lived it down.

And finally, if I were a pronghorn or a mule deer that had to make a living out on the Wyoming landscape, I would perish. Frankly, I'm just not quite tough enough.

I was touring southeast Wyoming courtesy of Bob Lanka, the Regional Information and Education Specialist in the Laramie region. He had organized this tour for media in the area to see first hand what wildlife have to endure in the winter, and to demonstrate how crucial quality habitat is to their survival.

Habitat is the food, water, shelter and space an animal needs to survive. Not only do animals need all four of these elements, animals need them in the right amounts and at the right time. Here at Game and Fish, we spend a great deal of time talking about how healthy habitats are the key to healthy wildlife populations. Bob hoped to hammer that point home with some in-your-face visual aids.

So two reporters from the Laramie Boomerang, two reporters from the Wyoming Tribune Eagle and a few Game and Fish staff members, including myself, piled into our Expedition and set off to experience a day in the life of a Wyoming pronghorn.

One of the Tribune-Eagle reporters asked me what Game and Fish hoped to gain from offering tours like this.

"We want to show how habitat is the foundation for wildlife, and how and why habitat drives wildlife management. Its all inter-dependent. Habitat drives carrying capacity, or how many animals can survive in a certain area. That in turn affects how Game and Fish manages wildlife. We use habitat as one of the factors affecting how many hunting licenses we issue," I told her.

Our first stop - a school section just north of Highway 34. "It's a race against time," explained Bob. "These animals spend all summer eating, hoping to put on enough fat reserves to help them last through the winter, usually until spring green-up in April. If they don't get enough nutrition through the winter and go through their reserves too quickly, there's only one ending - they die."

Bob picked off a small bit of sagebrush and held it out for our inspection. "Pronghorn need 2.5 pounds of food a day to make it through the winter. This is what one bite would be for a pronghorn. Imagine how hard it is to eat 2.5 pounds when this is the biggest bite you can find."

When pronghorn or other wildlife can't get enough to eat they draw on their energy bank account, the body fat they stored up during the summer.

The "bite" he held in his hand was tiny, probably about half an inch in length and weighing next to nothing. Several years of drought, combined with constant browsing by pronghorn herds in the area have taken their toll on much of the sagebrush and other big game food-source plants in our state.

Rick Straw, a Game and Fish habitat biologist, went on to point out that much of the food the pronghorn needed was crusted in snow, meaning the animals had to spend time and energy pawing at the ground to find suitable forage.

How in the world could an animal possibly get 2.5 pounds of food a day out of this? That would be like me needing to eat 2.5 pounds of food a day, half a peanut at a time, and having to sort through a sandbox to find those peanut halves. It seemed a daunting task.

After some more discussion, we turned to head back to the vehicles. I trudged through the snow, careful to step in the footsteps of the person in front of me so I didn't have to break new ground. A few times I stumbled, barely catching my balance before I toppled over. Occasionally the crusted snow would give out on me and I'd sink into the white stuff up to my knees. By the time we reached the vehicle, I was winded and my hiking boots felt like they were lined with lead. How in the heck did pronghorn do this day in and day out?

Our tour had to be amended when the road to Medicine Bow was closed due to blowing and drifting snow. Ahhh, life in Wyoming in the winter. Unphased, Rick and Bob regrouped and we headed back toward Laramie and the Snowy Range to learn more about mule-deer habitat. Along the way, Rick and Bob explained that plants like sagebrush did more than just provide food for antelope. It provided another important element of habitat, cover, to a whole other host of critters-- sagegrouse, pygmy rabbits and songbirds, just to name a few.

I decided to replenish my own fat reserves by breaking open my bag of Fritos I brought along for lunch. Mmmmm, carbs! Much better than sagebrush, in my humble opinion.

Our last stop of the day was an improptu lesson at a public access point to Sheep Mountain. We had just driven across some pretty nasty roads, the blowing snow making it impossible to see the road in front of us. Grateful for a break in the weather and ready to stretch our legs, the nine of us poured out of the vehicle and hiked a short distance up the hill to look at some mountain mahogany shrubs.

The wind was positively howling. It cut through my clothing layers like one of those TV knives cutting a tin can. My cheeks stung from its bite and my eyes burned behind sunglasses. Snow swirled around us, limiting the visibility. We hadn't been out of the vehicle more than a few minutes and I was freezing. I tried to get out of the wind, if just for a moment, so I could concentrate on what Rick and Bob were saying. But there was little relief.

"Think you could stay the night out here? Think you could make it to dawn if you had to?" Bob asked. "These are the conditions these animals live in, each and every day. Sure, they have fur to help keep them warm, but the point is, they aren't comfortable - they're cold, they're hungry and they are tired. They're racing time, trying to make it until spring. And if they don't have the habitat to support them, they lose the race and we lose lots of animals. That's the reality of life for wildlife in Wyoming."

There's no way. I couldn't make it to dawn. The cold was seeping into my body, numbing my brain and making me a big, whiny baby. I would definitely be the first pronghorn or mule deer to perish-- I'd get picked off by predators because I couldn't keep up with the group, starve to death or just flat-out give up and fall over dead. That's the reality of life for wildlife in Wyoming.

As we concluded the tour and headed back to Cheyenne, I couldn't help but have a new-found respect for our wildlife and what they have to endure. I also contemplated how we as humans, can affect that race against time. Just about everything we do on the landscape has an impact to the habitat these animals depend on.

Are we making the right choices? That's something we'll all need to decide together. But I would ask you this - the next time you're speeding along through this great big, beautiful state of ours, realize that's not just an endless vista out there. It's important, critical habitat: food, water, shelter and space. And habitat means home to Wyoming's 800 species of fish and wildlife. Let's make sure the place we all call home will always have those animals in it.

Lessons from a Life

I've never been one to have heroes, outside of my dad and my ag teacher, Mr. Berry. Growing up, there were certainly people I admired and tried to emulate, but no one else I would consider a true personal hero. That is, until I took a position with the Wyoming Association of Conservation Districts in 2001 and began working with then WACD president, Olin Sims.

Immediately, I was drawn to him. Charisma just oozed from his big frame. Even while Olin was peppering me with questions on the Endangered Species Act and animal feeding operations in my interview, his natural presence was evident.

For the next four years, I worked for Olin as a program specialist for WACD. My initial awe at the man quickly turned to respect at the very deepest level for his passion and integrity. He became one of my heroes, and someone I missed greatly in my new position here at the Game and Fish.

My heart has been heavy the last few weeks, after learning that Olin was killed in an accident on his family ranch in mid-December. I still can't believe it – only days before the accident, I hung out with Olin at the Natural Resource Conference in Casper. There he was, on stage, working the crowd as an auctioneer, ice raising an obscene amount of money for natural resource organizations in Wyoming.

After the auction, we stayed to visit and dance. We talked farm bill, I told him about shooting an antelope and of course, we talked UW sports. He told me about his work as the president of the Natural Association of Conservation Districts and spending a week in Guam with his wife, Tammy. I hadn't seen Olin in almost two years, but it was as if I'd never left WACD.

"I'm so proud of you, T," he told me, using my WACD nickname. 'I'm so glad things are going well for you, but I have to tell you, we miss you."

"Well I miss you guys too, Governor," I replied, using my own nickname for him. I really did miss Olin, because his sheer love of all the things that are good about Wyoming was positively infectious. You couldn't have a conversation with Olin on something he cared about and not come out fired up and ready to take on the world. Heck, I might have even missed dealing with his numerous cell phone issues (What? You're breaking up. I hate when you call when you are moving cows, make those calves stop bawling, I can't hear you! Uh, no Olin, the Verizon warranty doesn't cover phones dropped in an irrigation ditch...)

Three days after we danced and talked and laughed, he was gone. His death was felt by the entire agriculture and conservation community in Wyoming, from folks in the conservation districts to Senator Barasso in Washington, D.C. We were all in a state of shock - Olin was larger than life, there was simply no way he could be gone.

I couldn't bring myself to go to his funeral. I was afraid it would just be too sad, that my grief at losing someone I so admired and respected would overwhelm me. And there were certainly many people mourning a loss much greater than mine for me to make such a spectacle of myself. The magnitude of what we had all lost would just be too much for me to bear, my emotions too raw and deep to come to terms with it so quickly. How could I process losing someone I'd considered a second father figure?

To quote his good friend, Johnny, here was a man who lived his whole life for others, giving his everything for his family, his land and his country. He not only talked the talk of integrity and values, he walked the walk, following through on promises and commitments. He was the kind of man you want your son to grow up to be and your daughter to grow up to marry. Olin wasn't content to just sit around and gripe about what he thought was wrong - he got involved and tried to change things. His desire to make things better took him all the way to the National Association of Conservation Districts presidency, where he was able to, among other things, weigh in and lend a voice to Wyoming farmers and ranchers on the conservation title of the upcoming farm bill.

He was also a man that lived by example. Olin and his family used their ranch to demonstrate best management practices, to show how wildlife, agriculture and environmental stewardship could work together for the benefit of all. He literally practiced what he preached, enrolling the family ranch as an animal feeding operation Clean Water Act demonstration project to get the cows out of the creek, or using his cattle to graze lands in conjunction with elk migration patterns to improve forage for resident elk herds. Awards for Olin and the Sims family ranch in Rock Creek Valley included the Excellence in Grazing Management Award, the National Endowment for Soil and Water Conservation, and the Land Manager of the Year. In 2004, they received the Wyoming Stock Growers Environmental Stewardship Award and were named the Wyoming Game and Fish Landowners of the Year. In 2005, they received the Environmental Stewardship Award from the National Cattlemens Beef Association, acknowledging their tremendous efforts to protect and conserve our nation's rural resources. Olin was also inducted into the Wyoming Agriculture Hall of Fame in 2006.

But perhaps the greatest thing about Olin was you could strip away the titles, the accolades and the cowboy hat and he was still just Olin. Just a Wyoming rancher and all around good guy. He was true to his roots, never too big or too important to recognize small contributions, do the little thing that needed to be done or laugh at himself. My favorite memories of Olin won't be standing up delivering a farm bill presentation or testifying on legislative issues, even though that was what he did best. It's the more candid moments that I'll hold near and dear to my heart. Olin in flaming yellow shorts and white legs playing volleyball in Thermopolis; Olin bent over a broken wagon axle, using that good Scandinavian engineering (and possibly duct tape) to get the wagon righted and our tour of Owl Creek back on track; Olin, leaning back in an office chair, Bud Light close at hand as his huge hands fumbled to put little sticky tabs on board packets; Olin, wrapping me up in a bear hug my last few days at WACD, telling me "You'll do good things for wildlife, T, just like you've done for ag. But we'll sure miss ya, so don't be gone too long, okay?"

To be honest, I was just plain angry. Where was the justice in his dying? The world needs more men, more leaders like Olin Sims, not fewer. We need the real deal to look up to. Whether they agreed with his politics or not, Olin's sincerity and desire to really do good things was recognized by those around him. We need Olin's brand of honesty, collaboration and kindness. Agriculture needs that, natural resource conservation needs that...I need that. He was my superhero...and superheroes don't just die, dang it.

But bitterness and anger are not my style, and soon I recognized that I needed to say goodbye, in my own way. So there, in the Wyoming open country with the Wind Rivers in the background and nothing but miles and miles of snow covered sage as far as the eye could see, I whispered my own heartfelt tribute to my friend. And just as soon as I said my thanks to him for his guidance and leadership, my words were gone, picked up by a soft Wyoming breeze somewhere along Sand Mesa, my grief carried on the wind to the earth and the sky and the very land and that we both loved so much.

My friend, my hero is gone. But his legacy will live on, through me, through all the folks at the local conservation districts, through the game wardens and habitat biologists and all his other friends across this state and country. Because his passion for the land, for doing right, for conserving what we believe to be special and sacred, is infectious. It's a passion I try to do right by every day I come to work, and one I'll instill in my own kids. Whether you are a wildlife advocate, a rancher, an environmentalist, a hunter or just someone who loves this great big state with all your heart, may that be the legacy we all leave behind - doing right for your family, doing right for others, doing right for Wyoming, simply because it's the right thing to do.

Making a List and Checking it Twice

Some years ago, my family started drawing names at Christmas. Between my parents, five kids and four spouses, finding and buying meaningful gifts for everyone just got too cumbersome. I opposed this idea at first, because I just really liked getting presents.

Now that I am older and wiser, it's a tradition I've come to embrace. My resources are now focused on buying one family member what they really want. I’ve always considered myself a top selection in the annual drawing of names. The last few years, my wish list included mainly items for my house - a ladder, a magazine rack, a Bissell Little Green Machine. All relatively straightforward, readily available, one size fits all gifts.

That is, until this year. My brother-in-law, Kyle, drew my name, which means that my second oldest sister will be shopping for me. When she asked for a few hints in post-Thanksgiving e-mail, I sat down to consider what I really wanted.

I had nothing. There was really nothing pressing I needed, nor anything of great importance that I truly coveted. Sure, if a 37 inch LCD HD television showed up under my Christmas tree, I'd be okay with that. And I'd like a digital camera, a Browning shotgun and there is a pink fly-fishing vest I've had my eye on. But those are all items I'm perfectly capable of buying myself, and well beyond our Christmas spending limit.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my Christmas wish list was so short not because I lacked creativity, but because my life is truly blessed. I've got more than a girl really needs, and more than this girl certainly deserves.

To start with, I'm blessed with a supportive and loving family. True, they don't quite understand my new obsession with all things outdoors, but that aside, they are pretty amazing. Last year about this time, my father suffered a stroke and we spent the holidays in a hospital in Denver. Having always been a bit of a daddy's girl, the whole ordeal sent my world into a tailspin. But we pulled together and pulled through it, and now Dad is back on his feet, cracking bad jokes, playing dominos and attempting to navigate his way through cyberspace.

I also have one of the coolest jobs on the planet. I get paid assist with projects like the antelope capture and bighorn sheep transplant, and what's more, I get to force my captive e-newsletter audience to read my stories about such adventures. And I'm surrounded by talented and dedicated coworkers who are more than willing to share their passion for wildlife and wild spaces with me.

I get to live in, work for and explore the state of Wyoming, where the mountains are almost never out of sight, pronghorn darn near outnumber people and it is still possible to find a quiet place in the wilderness to escape to.

But when I'm tired of being alone in the woods, I also have a great cast of friends to come home to. They are the best kind of friends - friends to shoot with, hunt with, fish with, gamble with, yell at the refs at a UW football game with, laugh with and cry with.

I have pictures of my first hunt, a freezer full of meat and a self-confidence I never really knew I had.

And finally, I have a new puppy to laugh at, a grown dog who loves me unconditionally and a cute boy that calls occasionally.

So Santa can skip my house this year - I've already got the most precious gifts I'll ever receive.

Merry Christmas.