The Eagle Outdoors

Despite an earlier explanatory column, I sometimes have to be reminded just why I hunt. I have to be reminded - taken back, if you will - of what it was like in 1976 when I was 12 and the troubles of everyday life existed only far into the future. So it was on Saturday, Nov. 29, when I took my 12-year-old grandson, Wyatt, on his first hunting trip. A bright, articulate sixth-grader, Wyatt excels at many things, especially the building of moving and working objects and making art from ordinary cardboard. Wyatt joined me that morning merely as an observer, as he has not taken his mandatory Hunter Education Course as of yet, and possessed neither the paperwork nor the knowledge by which to arm himself and participate fully. "You know, you're just going to watch," I told him. "That's fine," he shot back. "I just want to get out and see what this is all about."

With that, we were off. Friday night, it was packing and preparation; me with firearms, plastic geese, ammunition, calls, and blinds, and Wyatt with a carefully selected goulash/beef MRE (Meal, Ready-to-Eat), wafer cookies, chocolate, a thermos of hot cocoa, and more chocolate. On Saturday morning, we were off before daylight. At the farm, Wyatt was packing decoy bags, setting blinds, moving this, rearranging that, and waiting for instruction. "Here," I told him, handing the boy my Gerber folding saw. "Cut clumps of that spike grass and we'll use it to hide the blinds, and don't cut yourself."

For the sake of brevity, allow me to switch to the "Reader's Digest condensed version" of the morning. At 8:40 a.m., Wyatt opens his first snack. By 9:00 a.m., most of his food, including the beef goulash, is gone. As a solo hunter, I enjoy my peace and quiet. Wyatt, on the other hand, spends the morning thrashing around in a 2 foot by 6 foot prone position blind reminiscent of a man accidentally urinating on an electric fence in the dark. My words, not his. Actually, I was channeling my father once more. At 11:30 a.m., we packed our mountain of gear and I loaded the truck, while Wyatt policed the area for 'Beverage Powder, Raspberry' wrappers, finding none. All in all, we had seen precisely one goose, four mallard ducks, half a dozen hooded mergansers, and never fired our fowling piece. However, Wyatt had pointed out several bald eagles, sea gulls, a 'big white long-legged thing' (a Great Egret), pondered a kingfisher, and watched a Mama kestrel hunting field voles. "She's a better hunter than you, Poppy," I was informed upon seeing her stoop and catch her breakfast. To be honest (at least that morning), she was.

Now it's Sunday and we're taking the boy into Longview to meet his Mom. Hand-off complete, Julie and I are sitting at Nipp's Burgers. Julie stops, gets a little verklempt, and tells me, "I asked Wyatt what the highlight of his visit was. You know what he told me? Hunting with Poppy." Julie had countered to Wyatt, "You didn't get anything." In response, Wyatt told his grandma, "Didn't matter. It was just fun being out with him."

Ladies and Gentlemen, that is why I do what I do. Hunting, to me, isn't about bringing game home. It's about what happens in the field and, until Ashley Tawater and Lauren Roberts come to the house as I've outlived my usefulness, I'll always have those days. It's a good thing.

Speed round

A huge thank you to the Wahkiakum Chamber of Commerce for organizing Saturday night's Christmas tree lighting and lighted parade. Great event. Great weather. Great to see so many little ones out and enjoying the evening. It's always nice to spend time with the citizenry of Wahkiakum County.

Thanks, too, to the many folks who stopped and said how much they enjoy The Eagle Outdoors. Again, this is a cooperative effort and wouldn't be possible without Ian and Kirk and Jenn giving me the flexibility to more or less write what I wish. It's a nice departure from my normal literary routine and very much appreciated.

The WDFW has confirmed more razor clam digs for early December. Clam tides confirmed are Dec. 4-8, 2025, evening tides, including an impressive -2.1 low on Friday, Dec. 5, at 6:34 p.m., meaning one can begin at dusk (4 p.m.) and, with luck, have their 15 shellfish before it's fully dark. If you go, be safe, don't get turned around, and never ever turn your back on the Pacific.

Finally, congratulations to all the local deer and elk hunters who notched tags this year. From everything I've heard, it's been an exceptional 2025 big game season, with at least nine bulls and more than a dozen blacktails hitting the lockers between Sept. 1 and the close of late buck on Nov. 16, all taken not too far from the little red house here. Good job, folks.