March 2015 Volume 3 Issue 3

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Ordelheide-Dental/533072000093520

Publishers Notes By Raf Viniard

I love living in Montana and but reading Dan Helterline’s story on page

two and Tony Rebos story on page six brought me back to growing up in

the south all my life. It was a simple life filled with colorful language and

some adventures that can never be shared and that many cannot even

imagine. A dare or creative way of accomplishing something was just a

regular everyday life living in the south.

Squirrel, dove, rabbit , coon, opossum, deer, turkey and hog hunting are as

much a tradition as opening day elk season is here in Montana. To a southern

country boy or girl, opening days for these seasons should be national holidays

and often are treated as such.

Fishing is just a summer time activity to pass the time until squirrel season

opens in August. Speaking from experience, I do believe a plate full of deep

FRIED catfish or crappie fillets is just pure heaven. Throw in some pocket knife

coleslaw, a handful of hushpuppies and a pitcher of ice tea and you have a

meal made for southern royalty. You hand a southern boy a trout on a plate

you might as well get ready for a southern fishing tale or two and a question as

to where are the coleslaw and hush puppies. He is going to need a plate full of

FRIED trout...leave the tail on.

Tony’s story about getting a “lickin” with a belt sure brought back some not so

pleasant memories of dancing around the floor with your arm in the grasp of

your Mom or Dad and you going in a circle trying to out run the swing of the

belt and at the same time being told to stand still...yeah right! Okay, so we

talked a little funny but most southern boys can tell a story or two.

Get out and go make some Montana memories, your grandkids will want to

hear about it...just be safe and have fun this weekend. Keep it legal!

Publisher & Editor: Raf Viniard

406-407-0612

Photographer, Print Manager

Tina Scott

406-830-7500

Field Editor: Mitzi Stonehocker

406-544-1868

Sales & Marketing, Lincoln County

Kori Erickson

406-293-1478

Sales & Marketing, Flathead Valley

Misty Loveless

406-250-4191

Missoula Sales Rep: Vacant

Pro Staff Writers & Photographers:

Angela Gerych Pastor Jim Sinclair

Dan Helterline Zach Butcher

Paul Fielder Montana Mitzi

Toby Bridges Sam Martin

Toby Walrath Jason Badger

Tony Rebo

Editorial Policy: Montana Woods N Water (MWW) reserves the right to refuse to

publish in any form of content that does not include the author’s name, complete mailing

address, and/or valid phone number or e-mail address. Anonymous submissions will

not be addressed or published. MWW reserves the right not to publish anything we

feel is not in good taste or appropriate.

Contact Us

Montana Woods N Water

171 Clark Creek Loop

Plains, Montana 59859

406-08-0576

www.montanawoodsnwater.com

Email:

raf@montanawoodsnwater.com

Front Cover Photo Provided By:

Robert Hosea

www.thebobfactor.com

Location: Kootenai River

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DAN’S TRAVELS

Southern Mississippi in March can be an interesting place, nice weather, good food and burning stuff, what could be better? I've spent the last month and half on the Desoto National Forest helping with their prescribed fire program and responding to wildfires as they occur. It was in the late 90’s that I started coming down to Mississippi on fire assignments, being fortunate to spend time in most of the states considered the Deep South. In my southernly travels I've met and worked with some colorful locals that are an absolute hoot to be around.

Many southerners share the same rural lifestyle that we are fortunate to enjoy in Montana, but with a deep fried Cajun spiced twist. I never tire of listening to hunting stories spun in southern fashion, delivered with a deep southern drawl, southern boys definitely have a way with words, which only adds to the comic state of most stories. One particular evening, while attending a social gathering at the boss's house, we had just finished a fine meal of barbecued wild hog with fried okra and all the fixins. I had moved to the patio to enjoy some cold adult beverages while letting my fine southern meal settle.

While starting a fire in the washing machine drum that had been converted into a fire pit, Buzz proceeded to tell the story of how he had successfully harvested the wild hogs that we had earlier dined upon.

With a lit cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other, one of the funniest, gut rolling stories I have had the pleasure to hear, Buzz started in.

“It was a night kina like this un, Buzz said, I had just slipped outside to have a smoke an enjoy the evenun. Suddenly I could hear those hogs a sqeelin over thar in the far side of dat field, Buzz pointed into the darkness with the lit cigarette still in his hand. I had a been afta them hogs far some time now but could neva catch em in a good spot. I lisened far a bit and it sounded like thar

were quite a few out thar so I ducked back in the house to grab a few guns. I loaded up my 12 gauge with sum buckshot, put a few bullets in my 270 and head fur my truck. My 300 that I had a been usin fur deer huntin was already loaded and a on da seat. Normally my wife Babs would have a went with me but she was feeln kinda ill so tonight I was a on my own.

I eased down and opened da gate inta the pasture as quietly as I could, then got back into my truck and headed en the direction I thought they might be, petal ta da metal in my Duramax. When my headlites picked em up they were lined out and a headen fur the woods! I quickly got onit and cut right through the middle ofem, this turned em away from headin inta da woods and they scatted back inta da field. I think when I runed em over I must of slowed a few down cuz when I went ta turn around there was a couple still purdy close in the headlites. I grabbed fur my 12 gauge, threw the door open and a went ta shooten. KaBam, KaBam, KaBam, Buzz shouted, still holding his cigarette and beer while colorfully illustrating how he just shot three hogs.

Afta killin them three I threw my shotgun back in the truck and took off to see if I could a catch up ta the rest of em. I caught up ta the last four as they was a headin far the woods and turned em back again. This time they stayed in my headlights so I reached far my 270 and threw open the door.

When my truck slowed down a bit I went ta shootn again, KerPow, KerPow, I saw two hogs roll as the rest of em left the lights. Afta loaden back up I tuk off afta the last couple and got my 300 ready. I over tuk the last couple and tried running em over but they veered ta the right and I missed em with the truck so I turned ta the right an gotem back in the headlights. They wur a waze out so I grabbed up my 300, my pappy always said a 270 is a good squirrel gun but only if the trees ain't too high!

KaBoom, KaBoom, KaBoom, I had ta shoot three times ta get the last two, Buzz animated with one hand still maintaining a grip on his beer while the other one delivered the cigarette to his lips for another drag.

Continued on page 4.

The Land of Cotton By Dan Helterline

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Don’t Forget - March 16th (MONDAY) Deadline

I went ta the house ta get my tractor so I could load em up in the back of my truck, some of em looked ta be pretty heavy and I didn't think I could get em loaded by my self. I thought I had killed six but when I was a tendin da cows da next morning, I could see one layin dead over by the trees. I musta crippled that one when I plowed thru em with the truck and it died before it made ta the woods, so I guess I got seven. When I ran thru em with my Duramax I think I hit a cupel of em, cuz when I went ta butchering on em the next day there was a cupel that were busted up a bit on the inside.”

Now there may have been a time when I have laughed harder but I can't remember when, I have tried retelling Buzz’s story as phonetically accurate as possible but I know I can’t come close to the original version. Now Buzz is only one of many characters I have had the pleasure to cross paths and swap stories with while working in the South. I've also come to realize that you truly can't understand country music until you've spent some time down South because good ole times there won't soon be forgotten so look away to Dixieland, look away.

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DAN’S TRAVELS CONTINUED

It’s A Southern Thing!

Dats a lot of fine eatin layn thar n the

back of dat truck. Southern country

boys don’t need no stinkn meat

market!

Cownum...SIX SIX in one night, taken with Chevrolet

Duramax, 12 gauge, 270 and a 300 all

by Buzz in one outing.

Local legend from Brooklyn,

Mississippi, Buzz Williams, retired

AFMO from the DeSoto National

Forest.

Pictures supplied by: Montana Dan

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TONY REBO

Snipe Hunting…& Gophers? By Tony Rebo

Every spring I dig into the gun cabinet and I dust off

my varmint rifles anticipating a day of shooting

ground squirrels. When I was a kid we called those

four-legged field rats, gophers. A gopher could take a

perfect alfalfa field and turn it into a hole-infested war

zone within one year. These dirt digging, fur-bearing

critters gave way to many enjoyable afternoons of

flinging lead in their direction. I remember as a kid

one of the best jobs I ever had was to eliminate

gophers from the neighbor’s field. Mr. Stout kept an

old horse named Thunder in the field, and it was

apparent that Thunder had gotten into some

fermented oats, or he was just the clumbest old sway back in his time. Either way it didn’t matter to me. Mr. Stout was paying

us a nickel per gopher and would provide all the 22 shells we could shoot.

It was a typical spring day when I headed out to the neighbor’s field to make a buck or two. In order to get the nickel per

gopher we had to bring back proof by providing Mr. Stout with a gopher tail. After each successful shot I would stack the

gophers into a pile and remove all the tails at once. Then I would place the tails into my front pocket and head home. This

particular day started off ok. I shot a few gophers and had my front pocket full of tails. Hunting became quite slow, and so as

kids do, I started to look for others things to shoot. The river was close by and I thought for sure that I would be able to find

easy prey on the river banks.

It just so happened that there were a lot of things to shoot. I made my way up and down the river’s bank, set up different

targets and shot up the rest of my shells. Afterwards, I headed home for lunch and to collect my well earned $1.15.

When I arrived at home my mom was waiting for me with “the look”. Now “the look” was a sign to all children that something

was not right. The severity of what happens next was all based on what I was willing to say. My mom’s look was about a seven

on the scale of one to ten. One meaning I was going to be scolded for bad behavior and ten meaning I may lose my life. I could

tell that my mom was concerned with something I had done because she had the crazy one eye look, was tapping her foot and

most importantly, had her hand on the middle drawer of the kitchen cupboards. Inside this draw were her weapons of choice.

I will get back to this later.

My first reaction is to apologize. It didn’t matter if I did something wrong or not. The best way to reduce a beat down is to beg

for forgiveness right from the start. I barely got out the words, “I am sorry, Mom” before she stopped me mid-sentence and

asked if I was shooting my gun down by the river.

Here is a lesson to young people. When asked a question about something you were doing, don’t respond first by asking,

“Why?” “It doesn’t matter “why”, you were or were not shooting by the river,” whispered my mom.

Do you remember those old batman movies where Batman and Robin would be fighting the bad guys, and when Batman

would punch a villain you would see on the big letters “POW” on the screen? Well, I knew that another wrong answer could

end my day with something similar.

“Well… yes, Mommy Dearest. I was shooting down by the river. I promise I was being very safe and always shot my gun at a

safe target.”

The neighbor across the river was watching me that morning and had called to inform my mom that what I was doing looked

unsafe and I could shoot something or someone by mistake. Continued on page 8

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TONY REBO CONTINUED

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I assured my mom that I was being completely safe and her look dropped to a level two.

My mom made me call the neighbor and apologize for acting like I could possibly have caused an accident. To this day, I still

call bull crap. My punishment for the day was no more hunting. I relinquished my firearm to the warden aka “Mom” and left

feeling somewhat lucky that things didn’t end up all that bad.

Later in the day the neighborhood kids and I gathered for an adventure, and discussed what would be the afternoon plan of

attack. Back in the day I lived down on mill row. This was a housing development in Libby for the lumber mill workers and their

families. Each house was filled with at least four kids. I came from a family of seven. It was nothing to put together a gang of

ten to twelve kids for any activity. With it being Spring and all, the thought went right to, “Let’s go shoot gophers.”. I then was

compelled to tell my story and admit that I had no weapon for the remainder of the day. The gang had turned on me and they

all began to laugh and point out that I sucked and should stay back and hang out with the girls and play Barbie’s or something.

Well I can tell you right now, I did what any 12-year-old boy would do, and I plotted my revenge.

In a heartbeat I schemed up a plan and called out to the gang as they were riding off, “Hey, come

back! Do you want to go snipe hunting?”

The boys turned around and came back. They were intrigued by this new game we were going to

hunt. On my birthday my Grandpa had told me a story about snipe hunting and I remember how

he got back at some boys who were teasing him. I explained to the young men who were now

listening intently to every word. I first explained to them what a snipe was. They were a very rare

bird with keen eyesight and senses like a cat. To catch one of these birds would make you the

hunter of all hunters.

The boys were in and in no time they were talking about getting the first shot and shooting one on

the fly. They do fly right? It was like twenty women talking all at once about the cereal sale at

Rosauers grocery store. “Hold on guys,” I said.

To go snipe hunting all we need is some empty potato sacks and I will bring a flashlight. I sent them

all home to get the gear, and told them to meet me back at my house after supper. I would explain

everything on the way. At approximately 6:30 PM, six neighborhood kids and I were headed up to the

flats for some late night snipe hunting.

We traveled down Fifth Street on our bikes, and when we got to the edge of the clay banks we parked our bikes and traveled

through the woods to the apple orchard. The orchard was about 30 acres in size with a number of apple trees at one end. An

old dirt road made its way through the center of the field of tall grass. “Ok boys, here is the plan,” I said.

I positioned the group on the far end of the field by the trees. I explained to them that they were the catchers. They would use

their empty bags to catch the snipe as they ran by. I would go to the other end of the field and I would chase the snipe through

the grass towards the catchers.

Of course all of this couldn’t be done until it was dark, hence the flashlight. The group sounded excited and ready for the

challenge. I on the other hand headed to the far side of the field and sneaked away. I walked back to my bike in stealth mode

so as not to have the group aware that I was no longer in the field.

Little did that group of nitwits know that as soon as I reached my bike, I broke out into a non-stop fit of laughter. As the

evening wore on and I was at home watching TV with the family, a couple of the neighborhood moms knocked on the screen

door. They whispered something to my mom who then turned to me with “the look”. OK, this was one of the rare times when I

didn’t start by apologizing. I immediately shot back the “dumb look” and “I don’t have a clue what you are talking about”

response. You had to play this response off without a flaw, because if you were caught it meant sure death.

Continued on page 16

CAMPFIRE TALK

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Lakeside Motel & Resort Happenings Trout Creek, Montana

March Tuesday the 17th, and Friday the 13th of March Lakeside will

celebrate St. Patrick’s Day! Party with the crew at the Lakeside Resort

March 13th --7:00PM KARAOKE- DRINK SPECIALS - DINNER Features -

Prime Rib, Fish Fry Friday, & Corn Beef & Cabbage --- Saturday Seafood

Platter, Surf and Turf ------ PARTY LIKE AN IRISHMAN at the Lakeside

Motel and Resort!

Wilderness Survival We have many years teaching, working, and living in the outdoors. Backcountry skills are a way of life in the beautiful Rockies we call home. Let us pass our knowledge on to you in our comprehensive training programs designed to teach you the skills needed to fully embrace the outdoors. Our hands on learning experience is enhanced by using the training learned in class and applying it in the field, where you will walk away with confidence and understanding of necessary skills and be able to utilize them when needed. Learn a multitude of primitive and modern survival techniques. Our easy to understand instruction will get you ready to take on the great outdoors. Our

courses are great for anyone from outdoor professionals working in the field, to wildlife photographers capturing the beauty of nature.

Learn these Skills and more! Fire Making

Shelter Construction Food and Water

Wilderness First Aid Signaling

Orienteering

http://www.rockymountainresponse.com/wilderness-survival.html

Redneck Ball, 28 March 2015, 5:00PM

Live Auction - Kevin Hill Auctioneer, 7:00PM Music by Dave & Deb Oliver

This is a one of a kind show will not be seen anywhere else!

Get your tickets early at one of the following locations: D & D Liquor, Thompson Falls, MT

Lakeside Motel & Resort—Trout Creek, MT Trout Creek Community Improvement Association

This is expected to be a sell out event! Proceeds benefit Trout Creek Community Improvement Association!

Dress like you are marrying your cousin!

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·

MARCH 20th @ 1200 - Western States Fur Auction - Park County Fairgrounds, Livingston, MT

· MARCH 21st - 23rd - Missoula Great Rockies Sport Show - Adams Center - U of M - Missoula, MT

· MARCH 27th - 29th - Bozeman Great Rockies Sport Show

Brick Breeden Fieldhouse - Bozeman, MT

· MARCH 29th @ 1230 - District 6 Spring Membership Meeting - Havre, MT

· APRIL 18th @ 0900 - District 2 Spring Membership Meeting - FWP, Spurgin Rd, Missoula, MT

· APRIL 18th @ 1000 - District 2 Spring Membership Meeting - FWP, Kalispell, MT

· MAY 3rd @ 0900 - MTA Board Meeting - Yogo Inn, Lewistown, MT

See You There!

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LOCAL CELEBRITY

Opossum, Sweet Taters & Onions

By Raf Viniard

In Montana we just don’t see these little

beady eyed vermin. They will eat things

that you cannot imagine. However, during

the Great Depression Opossums fed many

a family. You have to admit the picture

above looks like some pretty good eaten.

If you ever have to eat one, it is best to

catch it alive. They are docile animals and

if threatened will most likely play dead.

Pick it up by its tail as you see Dan doing.

Yes, they will bite you if given the

chance...I have a scar to prove it.

Put them in a cage and feed them for

about two weeks nothing but buttermilk

and corn to purge them of any bad things

they ate. They love to eat dead things and

we will just leave it at that.

Kill it and skin it out being sure to remove

its scent glands, just like a coon,

groundhog, muskrat or beaver before

cooking.

Makes you wonder how I know these

things huh? Recipe is below Dan’s Picture

It’s A Southern Thang!

Dan Helterline of Plains, MT

Dan is supposed to be down in Mississippi working but looks like

he had time to share with us some of his southern adventures.

Baked Opossum

1 Opossum, cleaned and washed

3-5 Sweet Taters, peeled

One Onion Quartered

1/2 lb Cleaned Collard Greens, cook w/ smoked ham hocks

Salt and Pepper to taste

6-8 Cups of Water

Roll Opossum in flour, place sweet taters and onions inside

Opossum and sew up to keep veggies from falling out. Cook until

tender. Serve with Collard Greens , Sweet Taters and Onions!

It’s Not If But When!

When it’s time to go...go in style!

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Tuesday – Friday 9:00 - 5:30; Saturday 8:00 – 4:00

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Place your ad

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Camo Sweetheart Ball Sponsors Please thank these sponsors by shopping with them for making

the Camo Sweetheart Ball such a success! Thank you!

Thank You!

Big Bull Sports

Bob Hosea—The Bob Factor

Bruce Hunn

Cabela's (Missoula)

Dale Fricke Holsters

Desta's Nails

D&D Liquor

Ed’s Outdoors

Gambles

Harvest Foods

Healthy Massage—Daphine Boles

Lakeside Resort & Motel

Levi Thrift Store

Mangy Moose

Minnie's

Montana Mitzi

Montana Outdoor Radio Show

Montana Trapping Association

Montana Woods N Water

Nailed It

Natural Edge Rustic Furnishings

Paradise Mountain Crafts

Plains Garden, Gift & Floral

Plains Trap Club

Peregrine Embroidery

Robert Viergutz

RTK Photography

Sanders County Search & Rescue Members

Scuz Busters & Diversified Services Judy Woolley

Shear Attitude

Sportsman's Warehouse

The Printery

Tires Plus

Tom & Shelly Rummel

Trout Creek Community Improvement Association

Whistle Creek Pottery Ellen Childress

TONY REBO CONTINUED

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When asked if I had seen the boys in the past hour or so, I did not lie. “No,” I said. It had been at least three hours ago when I

spoke to those nitwits. My mom looked at me once more, changed “the look” to level five, and asked me again, “Have you seen

the boys, or do you know where they are?”

Dang, she changed the question. I had to think fast, but it would only prolong the inevitable. I told the waiting moms that the

boys were talking about going snipe hunting and that they probably just hadn’t gotten back yet. “Snipe hunting?” the moms

asked in unison.

A string of questions followed. Why would they do that? Where would they get that idea? I knew I had to fess up to where

those nitwits were, but I was not about to go down alone. So I said, “I have no idea who brought it up, but I didn’t want to go,

as I got into trouble this morning and didn’t want to cause my dear sweet mother any more trouble for the day.”

My mom barked at my dad to get in the truck and to take me to find and bring home the neighbor boys. On the trip up to the

orchard my dad asked if Grandpa had told me the snipe story. I explained to him the day’s events and how the boys had it

coming for teasing me about losing my gun. Dad smiled and said, ”You know when we get back home your mom is going to

beat you’re a$$?”

I politely nodded as we entered the field. All six boys raced to our headlights. The dried tears were still stuck to their faces.

Each was acting like they had just survived a night in a bear cave. None of the boys had been in the woods that late after dark

and with all the sounds and crazy noises they were never so glad to see an adult. Even though my life was over, I was still able

to crack a smile.

When we arrived back at the house, the now mob of moms was standing out in the front yard. Each was puffing on a cigarette

and holding their weapon of choice. Apparently one of the other dads had heard the boys were snipe hunting and he clued in

this angry mob. When I got out of the truck the mob moved on me. There were four moms total, counting my own. When I was

a kid the rule was simple. If you were caught doing something wrong any mother in the neighborhood was allowed to set you

straight. Two of the boys’ mom’s were screamers but wasn’t carrying a weapon. One liked to grab you by the back of the neck

and yell. Another mom took off her shoe and started swinging it like she was trying to kill a spider. The other mom was part

ninja and had a pair of nun chucks. Really they were two branches from a willow tree, but when she started wailing on you it

felt like nun chucks. My mom, well my mom went to the drawer I mentioned earlier

and retrieved the belt, a four-foot strap of leather that could bring down a grizzly

bear.

My mom would start to swing this weapon in the air and shrill at the same time.

Most kids would just pass out from the site of this crazed warrior on the loose. I, on

the other hand, chose to run. The site of these crazy women was just too much for

me to handle.

By the time I returned several weeks later, the women in the neighborhood had

calmed down and were actually laughing about the whole joke I had pulled on their

kids. My dad helped my mom to understand why I had done what I had done and it

was all in fun. I have to say she was happy to see me and admitted that she missed

me. She patted me on the head and told me to go to my room and to put my clothes

away as she had started to pack them all up for the Goodwill in the event I never

returned. I was smiling and feeling pretty good when I felt her presence at my

bedroom door. Except, she had “the look”.

I wasn’t sure why, but I apologized and waited for her to speak. “I was washing your

clothes from the day you disappeared, and I found about 20 gopher tails in your

front pocket. Do you know how they got in there?” Dang gophers!!!!!!!

The “look” that I use on my children. Not that it works. ~Tony Rebo~

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Baldy Mountain Outfitters

Outfitter License # 23173

Phone: 406-291-7656

Welcome to Baldy Mountain Outfitter

Located in Plains, Montana

We offer high quality hunts that fit the clients ability and needs.

Our guides give 100% to make sure that the clients have the best possible hunt.

We are out in the hunting areas before daylight and stay till the last shooting light

to get the best chance of finding the big one.

We have access to large areas of public and private land to hunt.

WWW.BALDYMTNOUTFITTER.COM

Deer ● Elk ● Bear ● Mountain Lion

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