Rewind over the last 15 years... every time the "W" word is mentioned...

"W" word?  Wolf- Gasp! Scream! Shrieks of anger! Heavy sighs!   Any time this hot word is mentioned or overheard, an hour long outdoorsman rant about Montana elk populations ensues, followed by my eye rolling and sighing.  Followed by continued ranting and more persuasive techniques such as foot stomping, fist chest beating, and declarations of the seriousness of our elk herd depredation and wolf problems. If I continue to not join in the ranting he will resort to trusty old YouTube videos of wolves tearing up baby elk.  Doesn't he know I am just using the age old trick in a life or death situation?  You know, where you play dead so the wild animal doesn't eat you?  So I quietly sit and nod at the angry camo man until my eyes cross and my ears bleed. If you nod yes enough times he will eventually calm himself. 

Trust me; this is worse than Voldemort-"He Who Shall Not Be Named".  This goes in the book of never, ever; ever bring up politics, religion, and wolvvvvvvvessssss (this is said in a whisper) in polite conversation.  For that matter, do not bring it up in anyyyyy conversation polite or not because I can guarantee the outdoorsmen, ranchers, and just about anyone around here will get just plain ugly at the mention of the "W" word.
 

Back to the present...
 

I'm always trying to get the outdoorsman to check out of a work a little early to take me to some chick flick, go to Costco with me, get a pedicure, or some other thing that he deems "un-manly." He never can seem to get his schedule figured out where he is able to come with me. Strange, right?  I figure I do a lotttttt of things that are not really in my comfort zone so
He should have to get a pedicure at least once a year to get those caveman feet under control. Anyways! 
 

Lately there has been a decent sized herd of elk hanging around our house.  Which is awesome but we also have had to have the outdoorsman towed out of the ditch twice due to reckless binocular driving. (See below) They really should have a ticket for this sort of thing, right?  Usually we just have bears and mountain lions hanging around but....This week on Tuesday, I get a frantic phone call from the outdoorsman.  Apparently his buddy just heard on the news and IMMEDIATELY called to let him know that there is a pack of wolves running around, gasp, IN the outdoorsman's neighborhood.  Holy bag of antlers! What do we dooooooooo now??? The outdoorsman is literally shrieking into the phone about how he just can't believe that there are wolvessssssss hanging out on HIS turf. This is simply unacceptable. I repeat, in case you didn't quite get it, UNacceptable!   He informs me that he MUST take care of this.  Was there ever any question? My ears hurt from the rapid fire one-sided politician's speech I just endured. Even I know the outdoorsman cannot resist this juicy temptation.  I hang up the phone... an evening alone…can anyone say sushi and pedicure evening?  Thank you wolves!

I get home and the outdoorsman is waiting, ready to pounce, as soon as I walk in the door. No, he didn't notice my cute new toe polish and think I looked good; he was ready to tell me about the enemy in the back yard.  Of course! He tells me he went scouting after work and that he found the wolves.   He tells me he has never been so exhilarated and freaked out at the same time.  And that the hair on the back of his neck stood up when the pack of 8 were spotted one drainage down from our house. He is pacing, plotting and severely agitated.  The outdoorsman is in heaven.  I don’t think that he slept a wink that night.  He was as giddy as a school girl with new shoes

Miraculously he is off of work two whole hours early the next day.  How did that ever happen?  He says that strangely enough his last 2 appointments of the day cancelled.  I do not believe that for a second!  On my way home I encounter him and his buddy en route to their “spot”.  Camo men unite!! They are blasting music, frothing at the mouth, and kind of looking like a pack of wolves themselves.  The outdoorsman revs his truck up and launches the outdoorsman mobile up on a snow bank.  This must make him feel tough or something?   The camo men unload and they are ready to roll.  Their camo bandanas are tied to their heads, their rifles are slung over their shoulders, and they are off as they imagine they are camo super heroes off to avenge fallen elk.   I roll my eyes and continue home.The outdoorsman arrives home a few hours later, empty handed, but happy as a pig in poop. Weirdo!

A few days later, on our way out of town for the weekend, I notice the back seat has his pack, a gilly suit, a predator call,and his rifle from dream-guides. I laugh and ask what that's all about.  The outdoorsman smirks in some secret pleasure, "You just never know babe, you just never know."     Dear God, does this mean at any given moment the outdoorsmen will suspect a wolf in the general vicinity, turn on the howling box, suit up in some fringy camo suit get-up, slap two black paint lines across his cheeks and started army crawling across the parking lot of the restaurant we are in? Yes, that's exactly what that means!  I will not claim him but will order dessert, order another glass of wine, and wait.  He will come back eventually, he always does when he gets hungry. So if you hear of a wild man howling like a wolf running through the streets on the prowl, don't be concerned, it is just an excited outdoorsman.  Now that the wolves are in town, anything could happen.

Binocular driving: The action of attempting to drive while looking through binoculars at critters, steering with your knee, animal calling and ignoring passenger screams.

Kristen Berube lives a crazy, laugh-filled life with her outdoorsman husband Remi and their three camo-clad children in Missoula, Montana. A graduate of Montana State University and the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology, she loves being a mom and enjoys hiking, fishing, and camping. “Confessions of a Camo Queen: Living with an Outdoorsman” is her first book. 

It is available for purchase at:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/1560376287/ref=tsm_1_fb_lk

In Montana, where I live, we have more hoofed ungulates than we have people. Deer, pronghorn and elk roam freely among the 94 million acres that make up the Treasure State.  Frequently we see them in our back yards, or on hikes, where we have run into other free-ranging critters like bear and the very furtive mountain lion.  With one million people in the fourth largest state by ground area, Montana has room to roam and room to exhale.

We moved here from Chicago in 1998, and while I do love my old hometown for a visit (can't beat the culture and restaurants!), I am always glad to return to our recently expanded airport in Bozeman (8 gates!) and walk to my car, just steps away. The two cities are a study in contrasts in many ways, but the driving force for our relocation was most definitely the press of humanity.

Life is simply easier when there is ample space for work and everyday tasks; and the big plus of millions of acres of prairie, forest and mountains free for hiking, viewing and driving make this state a most special exception among the lower 48.  Most noticeable for me is the lack of any serious traffic.  When we travel from point A to point B, we measure it in a time which is 100% reliable...one could never say that about most cities and suburbs across the country.

Montana is likely to grow, and our hometown Bozeman is in the midst of a major building boom right now.  It's amazing how quickly the landscape around town is changing since our move here.  I suspect it is only the winter weather, which often lingers until June,  that keeps a massive relocation swarm at bay. 

In my lifetime I will probably notice manageable in-migration, though I do wonder if constant, relentless population growth will, in the end, win out; and Montana will look--and feel-- like anywhere else.

Please remember. It's cold and snowy here. No rush to move.

Bill Muhlenfeld is owner and publisher of Distinctly Montana magazine and other publications. He lives in Bozeman with his partner, Anthea, and always finds time to enjoy the great outdoors, when he is not writing about it.... 

I have always considered myself a cat person. Growing up I only have vague memories of our family dog when I was young but could name all 8 of the various cats we had as well as exactly what they were like and which ones I liked the most. It didn’t take long of living outside of my parents house to quickly add a kitten to the place I rented with my best friend. And shortly after that adding another. It wasn’t until years later, after getting married, moving around and finally settling back into Bozeman that I even considered getting a dog. Knowing it was something my husband wanted very much. He never had so much as a gold fish as a child. I still wasn’t convinced I did, but knew how happy it would make him. I also knew that if I ever had a dog it would have to be a golden retriever, which was the one dog I always thought the cutest thanks to their numerous appearances in romantic comedies, my favorite genre of that time. The moment I picked our golden out, tied a bow around her neck and brought her into our home as a birthday surprise I became a dog person.
 

Over the next twelve years, Sadi became a part of our family. At first, I wasn’t quite sure what we had gotten our selves into, the early puppy years of getting up in the middle of the night, watching her chew down a brand new tree in the backyard and dig herself out of our fence a couple of times. Getting frustrated but then softening immediately when she looked at you with her big brown eyes. Taking her on her first hikes up the M and having to carry her part way up because her short little legs couldn’t quite make the climb. Later on, trying to keep up with her on a trail as she ran off ahead. Bringing home our first baby, unsure of how Sadi would react. We should have known it would only be with love as that is all she was ever capable of. Those early days of being home alone with a newborn she became the one I talked to throughout the day, the one who came by my side when I was losing it because the baby wouldn’t stop crying. It was Sadi who made the baby giggle for the first time by licking her hands. When the second baby came home, we were greeted at the door with her wagging tail, Sadi eager to meet the completion of our family.
 

This dog was love and unwavering patience with two young girls. They could climb on her, hug her so tight, dress her up in their doll clothes, put ribbons in her fur. The week before we lost her they had her hooked up to an imaginary Santa sleigh and she was the reindeer. There were times I would look into her eyes and see the annoyance, but also the happiness. She was their protector, taking on the habit of barking if strangers walked past the house and keeping a close eye wherever they were. Spending her nights half in one room and half in the other. She never choose favorites, only made each of us feel like we were the one. To be loved by her was to be in the presence of unconditional adoration.
 

You never imagine you won’t have them in your life. Of course you see the slow down. I remember when bringing her along on my morning runs began to get too difficult and simply letting that go. As the girls became stronger hikers, she became weaker. Rather than running ahead on the trail to peaks of mountains, we began to settle for easier ones with her and reluctantly left her home for big ones. The water was the one place she never slowed down. Always eager to swim after a stick or ball, but never ever bringing it back to you. Sooner than any of us wanted, the walks became just a stroll around the block and then sadly realizing even that was too much.
 

To say goodbye to Sadi was one of the greatest heartbreaks in all our lives. While grateful for the full beautiful life she had with us, I still can’t fully process that she is gone. The emptiness that fills our home, the quiet that greets you when you walk in the door. Trying to comfort my children as they cope with this loss, while feeling my own heart breaking. Seeing my husband lose his first pet, his best friend. Finding comfort in his words when he says we can all learn from Sadi. She lived her life full of happiness with just the simplest things...being around people she loved. She was the kindest, gentlest soul and if we could all just be a little more like her, the world would be a better place.
 

I still consider myself a cat person, in fact the cat mentioned above still sleeps next to me each night...19 years later. However, because of Sadi I am also completely a dog person. Or perhaps it was just her. She will be forever missed and always remembered in our hearts.

Angela Jamison is a native Montanan and she grew up in beautiful Bozeman. I'm the mother of two girls and write a blog about our life here and taking in the simple pleasures of family and food.

http://www.rdeliciouslife.blogspot.com/