_game Warden Scramble Recipes

_SOMETHING SOFT FOR DINNER

Steps:

• If you like to eat, taking off on a back country trip with someone you don't know well who says he will do the cooking, presents the same chance for success as going on a blind date arranged by your sister. But...as an old boss of mine used to say, "Life is nothing but a series of missed opportunities!" You have to take the chance, but it's unwise to let your expectations get too high. Anyway...In late August, 1983, my boss passed some information on to me about two fellas who had drawn permits to hunt bighorn sheep along Idaho's Middle Fork of Salmon River and were allowing two other guys to go hunting in their place. Such a transfer is, of course, contrary to Idaho Code. Al told me to put together an operation which if successful might educate these guys and generate a little income for the state judicial system at the same time. I enlisted Russ Kozacek and Paul Valcarce to help with the operation. The plan went something like this. Paul and I would fly a float boat into Indian Creek and float down to the mouth of Loon Creek and meet Russ with his pack string. Russ and Paul would head up toward Norton Ridge where our informant said these guys planned to hunt. I would set up surveillance on a trail junction should they miss the guys up on the mountain. Russ and I split picking up the camp groceries and cooking duties. I would take care of everything along the river, and Russ would provide for Paul and him while on horseback. No problem!?!?!Russ readily admits that he and I come from different camp cooking schools. Russ graduated with honors from the school that teaches folks to fix the simplest, quickest recipes that result in the fewest dirty dishes. The ability to boil water is high on the list of criteria required to graduate from this particular school that shall remain un-named here! The grub in his camp isn't fancy but there is always enough. That is, until this trip.At the appointed time we met at the US Forest Service tent frame located about a half mile below the confluence of the Big Loon Creek with Middle Fork.Let me digress here and tell you a little more about where we met. At this time the USFS stationed a person at the tent frame during the summer float season. The fireguard had pulled out just a week before we arrived. Among other duties, this person kept the one-hole outhouses located at float camps supplied with toilet paper. More than once I'd stopped to re-supply when my own stocks of this vital commodity ran low.While Paul and I sorted his stuff, Russ started putting things in two different piles. One pile they would take with them on the trail, and another pile to leave with me at our base camp. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Russ pick up some of the "Woodsy Owl" drawstring garbage bags to stow stuff in out of the tent frame. Coincidentally, the fireguard kept his extra TP in the same bags hung on a nail next to the door. With all three of us working, it didn't take long to get the pack stock loaded. After agreeing on radio codes and check-in times, Russ and Paul pulled out.I squared my gear around after they left, then pulled a paperback book out of my duffel and began the surveillance. I fixed a chicken and pasta dish in my 10" aluminum DO and sat on the porch maintaining surveillance as long as I had reading light. Then it came time to light a lantern and move inside. I reached into the "Woodsy Owl" bag for a roll of TP prior to taking a stroll up the hill to the privy. Only when we compared notes several days later did we determine that we'd made simultaneous discoveries! I reached in expecting to grab a soft round roll, not a foil wrapped package containing freeze-dried beef stroganoff! Meanwhile, up on Norton Ridge, Russ ended up being the one to grasp what I was looking for! Later, there was considerable confusion over WHO was responsible for the switch! In my case I substituted a copy of the previous year's fishing regulations for what I needed, while Russ and Paul split a can of kipper snacks and a couple of granola bars found at the bottom of a saddle bag.If there is a moral to this story it's this. Even if you're not the cook, at least check to make sure the cook packs the grub!Spiced with More Tall Tales - Meats

_HOW TO COOK A COOT

Steps:

• If you're not a duck hunter or married to a duck hunter, just skip this recipe. Personally, I've never tried to cook a coot, primarily because I've never even shot at an "Ivory Billed Mallard". Remember, this is the guy who will eat every thing except grits and green lima beans. In this modern age, it seems to me, too many people blame events in their childhood for the mistakes or failures they make as adults. Some rightly so, but I can't help but feel a lot of it is over done!So where is all this leading, you ask yourself? Yup! you guessed it, my childhood. Since my dad first took me duck hunting at age three, the list of things I've done in life longer than I've duck hunted is fairly short. Memories of those first duck hunts are still vivid. Back in that distant past, I learned that the preferred duck of those who wait at home while others duck hunt, to be mallards. Those of the green headed variety! My dad, being a pretty fair hand with a shotgun, seldom got skunked in those days. He'd been there before, but it was a new experience for me, just four years old. About the only thing flying in the marsh that day were coots, which Dad had several different adjectives to describe. I didn't understand why dad didn't shoot them as they patterned by. At that time I obviously thought-ducks are ducks! Wrong! How long I pestered Dad to shoot them, I can't remember. What I do remember is him saying, "Mother didn't like any kind of ducks except those with green heads" and it wouldn't be very smart to take something home she didn't like. Though I was just four years old, that part I understood! I'm sure Dad first passed this recipe on that day. Over the years, Dad repeated this recipe so many times I've memorized it without ever having cooked it.A Back Country Guide to Outdoor Cooking Spiced with Tall Tales - Fowl & Fish

_GAME WARDEN SCRAMBLE

Steps:

• Start with the local rancher giving a domestic goat to a subject. Have the subject skin the goat in his yard. Stir in a nearsighted informant who sees the subject skinning the goat. Have the informant find the game warden and advise him of subject skinning a deer. Let the excited game warden stew for 4 hours waiting for search warrant.Once game warden has received a search warrant and is thoroughly stewed, let him serve it on subject and find goat.Mix all together and you have a wasted day. Put egg on game warden's face.THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: "A game warden can always be relied upon to waste a day trying to get your goat."A Back Country Guide to Outdoor Cooking Spiced with Tall Tales - Meat in Camp

_CAMPFIRE CASH

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• Campfires evoke memories from anyone who has ever sat around listening or telling stories by nature's own light. It is not uncommon for stories bordering on the bizarre to be told and re-told, but while camped at the river put-in on the Bruneau River in SW Idaho, a truly bizarre story unfolded before our eyes.Anyone who has ever floated the Bruneau River in Idaho's Owyhee County already knows that a big part of the adventure is just getting there! Mile after mile of rutted, kidney-jarring road across a seemingly endless plateau of sagebrush erodes the patience of all in the party. Suddenly what moments before appeared to be a sea of sagebrush is parted by the Bruneau River Canyon, just as the Red Sea parted for Moses and his followers in the Bible story! Though the float trip begins on the river, which twinkles at the canyon bottom, the adventure by road is not yet ended! Now the road descends through a lava escarpment. Chiseled and blasted from solid rock, this road challenges any who dare drop off the canyon rim! Rusted, burned-out hulks lying among the jumbled rocks below the escarpment bear mute testimony to the fate of careless drivers before us.After successfully making this first descent, my two pards, Jim Van Ark and Mike Brogliatti, and I watched our shuttle drivers attain the rim before starting to rig our boats. We had two days to burn while waiting for the rest of our party to descend the Jarbridge River in canoes and a kayak to where we were. The Jarbridge enters the Bruneau about a mile upstream from the put-in. We pitched our camp near an old bridge that is no longer safe for vehicles to cross. After getting the boats rigged, we checked out nearby Indian Hot Springs and rustled up some firewood for camp. Rather than set up a firepan, I chose to grill our elk steaks over an open fire in a rock fire ring made by previous campers. At one point I thought about relocating a couple of rocks in the fire ring to better balance my grill, but managed to get it steady enough that it wasn't worth the bother. But because I didn't move those rocks, I'll never know the answer to a question I ended up asking the next day. That evening the three of us sat around the fire telling stories, remembering other river trips, and wondering how our pards were faring up on the Jarbridge.The next morning after rolling out of bed, we immediately congregated around the fire again to ward off the late April chill. After warming my bones, I headed to Indian Hot Springs for a soak and a bath. Jim Van Ark followed minutes later taking photos. As an aside, it was at this time that Jim took the photo of me in the bathtub that appears on the back cover of this book.When camping, most folks expect some privacy or solitude as part of a camping experience. While camped at the Bruneau River put-in at the end of a dead end road, which almost defies description, 'isolation' better defines our campsite! Being mid-week and early in the floating season, we were not expecting to see anyone else that morning as we sat around drinking coffee. All of a sudden we heard a vehicle approaching and figured another party of floaters were coming in. For a couple of minutes before the rig came into view it almost sounded like an off road motorcycle. In all my years of patrolling and driving back roads in Idaho and other western states imagine my surprise when a two-wheel drive sedan of foreign manufacture came into view.Our surprise only increased when two fellows, one in his twenties and the other middle-aged got out of the car. Surprise turned to apprehension as these two characters approached us. Had we been in a movie theater I would've thought two characters from "Deliverance" had come to life. My officer safety training kicked in as both guys began to advance after just saying 'Hi'! The older fellow stopped when he reached the fire ring and bent down and rolled over one of the rocks. From underneath the rock he picked up a wad of bills folded in half. Even with a twenty-pound river rock setting on them this wad of bills was almost two inches thick. Before he pocketed the money I could see only the bill on the outside of the roll and it was larger than a twenty!After backing off a couple of steps the older guy said, "We left this here last weekend and decided to come back and see if it was still here!" He went on to tell us they'd been camped where we were and had hid their money under the rock before walking up to the mouth of the Jarbridge to do some prospecting. Even though I knew it to be a tacky question, I asked how much money was in the roll. He replied, "Just some pocket change." Pocket change my foot! Even if they were all one-dollar bills, these two guys had a bit more than pocket change hidden under that rock! I guess even in the woods folks hide their valuables in odd places! Although a bit bizarre but true, I still tell this one around the fire!Spiced with More Tall Tales - Meats

_CULINARY BOMBS

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• While being a game warden for over twenty years, it was my good fortune to be invited into many camps. Of course I ended up being an uninvited guest in many others, but I will save those stories for later. Anyway...I couldn't come close to putting a number on how many camp cooks I've crossed paths with over the years, but it for sure numbers in the hundreds. As you might expect, the skill level of these cooks runs the gamut from totally inexperienced to a chef who quit the big time and went to work for a wilderness outfitter to escape the concrete jungle. It's probably safe to say that many of these cooks began their camp cooking education with a wiener on a stick or a can of stew set in the coals at the edge of an open fire. Properly done, you can cook canned goods without a pot and save having to wash some dishes. Improperly done, however... you might end up with beans on your face!As taught to me when I was a Boy Scout, cooking in cans is simple and easy. Even now these many years later, I will occasionally heat a vegetable up in a can if all my DO's are in use. To do this, I merely take a can opener and pierce the top in three or four places on the top, then set it on a couple of small coals right at the edge of the fire. As liquid begins to bubble out the openings, I turn the can a quarter turn with a pair of leather gloves. I keep turning the can until liquid has bubbled out of each of the three or four holes that I put in the top. This allows for even distribution of heat and prevents burning the contents.I CAN'T EMPHASIZE ENOUGH THAT THE TOP OF THE CAN MUST BE PIERCED BEFORE YOU APPLY HEAT TO THE CAN! The openings allow pressure to escape as the contents begin to cook. Failure to provide for the release of pressure will in a very short time result in a 'Culinary Bomb' proportional to the size of the can and how much heat was being applied! A fellow officer responded to a call a couple of years ago to a site along the Little Salmon River in Central Idaho where some subjects were reported to be fishing with 'Dupont Spinners'! For those of you who do not know, a 'Dupont Spinner' consists of one or more sticks of dynamite, or similar explosive, deposited into the water. The explosion in the water stuns the fish, which allows for them to be retrieved merely by using a net.Needless to say, such actions are contrary to regulations and constitute a major violation.When Roy arrived at the riverbank campsite where the explosions had been reported, evidence of the explosions was readily visible. The rookie cook in this camp had set two family size cans of chili con carne with beans in the fire and HAD NOT PIERCED THE TOPS OF THE CANS! Not only did dinner turn out to be a 'bomb,' But he had to endure ridicule from his buddies and a grin from the game warden!Spiced with More Tall Tales - Vegetables and Salads

_MAKING DO

Steps:

• Every camper ends up in camp minus from one to any number of necessities. The name of the game then becomes do without or make do with a substitute. When one forgets the can opener, for example, an old pocketknife can be sacrificed and other than being a pain in the butt for the cook, camp life goes on. On occasion I or someone in camp has carved a stirring spoon from a scrap of wood or made a DO lid lifter from a green tree limb. Of course the more complicated the item, the more ingenuity required.In 1983 another conservation officer and I spent a couple of weeks re-doing the flood irrigation system at a IDF&G back country ranch. I didn't miss the metal spatula that first evening when I grilled pork chops, but it was noticeably absent the next morning when I went to mix up some 'Poor Man's Sourdough Pancakes.' I've yet to see the pancake which one can flip with a fork! That morning we settled for granola bars and coffee but it was obvious we needed something to flip pancakes and turn eggs.That afternoon Terry Williams and I set out to solve the problem. Terry started out by taking the metal lid from a coffee can and gently hammering it as flat as possible on the chopping block. First he would hammer one side then turn it over and hammer the other side. Within 10-15 minutes it looked like a round piece of sheet metal. Meantime I cut a straight section of a mountain mahogany tree about 10" long and an inch in diameter. With the saw blade on my sheath knife I cut a groove in one end approx. 1 1/2" deep. Then taking a leather punch I bored two holes about a half-inch apart through the portion of the limb with the groove.Using two old pieces of strap iron and a pair of vice grips, Terry bent one side of the lid up so it would fit into the groove on the handle. We set the turned up edge of the lid into the groove and punched two holes with a horseshoe nail. Two minutes and two small pieces of baling wire later, we had a serviceable metal spatula. It wasn't 'purty' but it served our purposes. So next time you're in camp and realize you've left something at home, look through your miscellaneous and see if you can come up with a substitute!Spiced with More Tall Tales - Breakfast

_LAS PIEDRAS

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• For those of you who didn't take high school Spanish this translates to 'The Rocks'. Las Piedras Ranch owned by Dwain and Sandy Riney of Montgomery, Texas, is aptly named. Located in Real County, WNW of San Antonio, Las Piedras Ranch exemplifies the Texas 'Hill Country'! Their ranch, though not large by Texas standards, supports a healthy population of native wildlife and is also host to numerous exotic species. These wild, free ranging exotics escaped from neighboring ranches years ago. Dwain and Sandy recently invited me down to cook for some of their hunters. This particular hunt is a 'special hunt' for both the Riney family and the hunters. Once a year Dwain and Sandy donate a hunt for exotic species at Las Piedras to the Montgomery County Cattle Barons' Ball and benefit auction. The money raised from this annual event benefits the Montgomery County Unit of the American Cancer Society. In the course of my visit Dwain pulled out the 'ranch recipe box' and selected several favorites of his and Sandy's that he thought I'd like. In addition Sandy has since called me with a couple of other old family favorites. We hate to think of family heirlooms disappearing, but it happens when you prepare these recipes. My thanks to Dwain and Sandy for sharing them and inviting me down to share their corner of heaven in the Texas Hill Country!Spiced with More Tall Tales - Appetizers

_GAME MEAT

Steps:

• Browsing through this section, one might think I've written a "Wild Game Cook Book". I confess, most of the meat recipes do feature "game" meat in this book. But, every "game" recipe easily converts to the cellophane wrapped meats found in your local meat market. Far be it from me to try converting those meat eaters who just don't like eating wild game, but read on to find out why I like it myself.Any gardener will tell you his or her home grown produce tastes much better than any store bought veggies. By the same token, pull the lid off a Dutch oven full of BBQ elk ribs and I guarantee they'll put the store bought variety to shame. Whether it's putting sun dried tomatoes on the shelf or filling the freezer with lots of plain white packages marked "Elk Steak", nothing beats the fruits of one's own labors.My love affair with game meat goes back to when I graduated from a high chair to a chair with pillows on it to boost me to appropriate height at the dinner table. Growing up in SE Idaho in the 50's and 60's dinner menus at the Welch household regularly featured venison along with beef, pork and lamb. Though not in a subsistence situation, venison and pheasants helped stretch the grocery dollars needed for a family of six.Sitting here many years and many deer later, writing this book, I remember how proud I felt going home after getting my first deer. I know mom quickly got bored with my story but a thirteen year old helping Dad bring home the "bacon" just naturally gets a swelled chest. Over the intervening years I've not got an animal every year, but my freezer has never been empty of game meat thanks to other family members or my hunting pards!Growing up, game meat was a staple on our table, as well as most of the neighbors. About the only folks I knew who didn't eat it were those few people who weren't hunters or fishermen. Like a lot of things from our childhoods, I just took game meat for granted. My education about folks who didn't care for game meat began in college. My roommate and I asked a couple of gals over to our apartment for steaks one evening. They thought it would be neat to have a couple of guys cook them a steak dinner with all the trimmings. Both of us being from southern Idaho, just expected these gals to be suitably impressed not only with our culinary prowess, but with the fare as well. Wrong! One of these gals would have put a circus elephant to shame with her nose wrinkling ability when my roommate slapped those elk steaks on the grill. To make a long story short, they ate the trimmins' and we ate steak. Being somewhat slow learners, both of us had to have this same lesson repeated just a month later with two different gals. In both cases we missed the clue of these gals coming from beyond the borders of "meat and tater" land! Rest assured though, this dislike of game meat is not gender specific. After graduating from college and becoming a wildlife professional, I learned just how many people in our society don't hunt and have never had the opportunity to eat game meat. I've also met a lot of folks who've been served game meat and for various reasons didn't like it. Without first hand knowledge I wouldn't venture a guess as to "why" they didn't like game meat, but I can make some guesses based on my own experience.Not only have I harvested numerous big game animals, but as a game warden I've been able to see how others take care of big game animals. By and large most folks do a pretty good job. Yet every year I see animals which, I've no doubt if you cooked a steak from, would gag a maggot! One of the worst instances I've encountered happened about ten years ago in the Little Lost Valley. It was mid morning on a Friday when I pulled into a camp to check a good size 6 x 6 bull elk. These fellows had been luckier than most. They'd been able to load the bull whole into a truck. The cottonwood tree they picked to hang it from lacked a branch at the proper height, so they hung it from the next best branch which left the head, neck and one front shoulder still on the ground. One front quarter lacked any air circulation at all. The elk had been field dressed, but not skinned. The tag showed the bull had been killed on Wednesday. I asked the lucky hunter if he thought the carcass had cooled adequately. He replied "sure." Though the October nights had been down into the twenty degree range, the Indian Summer days were getting up to about sixty degrees.When asked, the hunter had no objection to my taking a carcass temperature. I made a small slit in the hide and inserted a thermometer behind a shoulder blade. Thirty six hours after being killed the internal temperature was still over 60 degrees. Now, you tell me how many repeat customers a restaurant would get if they served beef given the same care?!? I'm not saying the quality of game meat totally reflects the care given in the field, but in my opinion it's a big first step.Yet, still others are adamant a bull elk or a big buck taken in the rut borders on being inedible. My personal experience doesn't support this. A person who harvests such an animal might be wise to put more of it into burger and stew meat and plan to adjust the cooking of other cuts accordingly. To make my point, I pose this question to you, the reader. When fast food chains purchase cattle to be ground up for burgers, do they buy corn fed eighteen month old steers or old stringy, worn-out range bulls?On occasion I've had the chance to serve some people their first taste of venison. Interestingly enough, most are pleasantly surprised, even those who may have previously had an unpleasant experience. Each different game animal will have a distinctive taste. There is no argument game meat differs in taste when compared to domestic meat. Not to be to "hoity toity" here, but having to acquire a taste for something different is not a new phenomenon. As for me, I'll take a nice elk steak over raw oysters any day! I don't know exactly when the "lite food generation" began, but I'm sure it's here to stay. When we as a society started this long road to health awareness, it became obvious, though it had just three letters, "fat" was now a dirty word. With that realization society began to look towards game meat from a health perspective. Published figures indicate game meat, on the average, contains less than 50% of the fat found in domestic animals. Even a well trimmed cut of meat from the grocery store yields more fat than the equivalent cut from a game animal due to the lack of "marbling" found in game meats. I've known individuals with heart problems who, on the advice of their doctors, limited their consumption of red meat to game meat.A Back Country Guide to Outdoor Cooking Spiced with Tall Tales - Meat in Camp

_THE ADVENTURES OF 'TWO-STORY TOM'

Steps:

• Look up 'character' in the dictionary and you'll find a picture of my old game warden buddy, Tom Whalen, aka 'Two-Story Tom'! There would be fewer people making a living by writing except for Tom and other folks like him. He just has 'material' written all over him. His nickname derives not from his stature 'cause in reality he falls into the vertically challenged category. But what he lacks in height, he makes up for in wind. So now you're wondering how he earned the moniker 'Two-Story Tom.' It happened around a campfire in deer camp. The second year Tom came to deer camp, Tom rode up to camp, a distance of over 200 miles, with another friend named Mike. As bedtime neared, Tom was just finishing a story that he had started upon arriving three hours earlier. Tom puffed up with indignation when everyone began to rib him about being verbose. The matter was settled, though, when I asked Mike how many stories Tom had told him during the drive up. Mike scratched his head as he thought for a minute. "Just two," he answered. Tom didn't get a deer that year.Tom didn't get a deer the first year he came to camp either. However, had he not told us himself, the rest of us would have never known about the tent pole he bagged that first year! My 14' x 16' wall tent has a single internal pole made out of a fence rail. The pole is situated about five feet inside the door (16' - 5' = 11'). The tent is big enough to comfortably sleep four guys and leave room for the kitchen and woodstove. On the night in question, three of the four occupants were dead to the world after slogging through snow all day. Only Tom heard the pickup drive past camp around midnight. Tom quit fantasizing about big bucks, and his game warden training took over as he pondered what good someone would be up to in the middle of the night on Hungry Ridge! Sounds from the vehicle faded and Tom again pictured big bucks behind every tree in his mind.Only a game warden knows the adrenaline rush provided by the report of a high power rifle in the middle of the night. The first rush precipitated the second. That is Tom struggling out of his sleeping bag and attempting to run outside. The tent did not collapse when Tom T-Boned the previously mentioned tent pole only because of his size and having a mere 11" to accelerate prior to impact. But even Tom's self-directed maniacal laughter didn't awaken Dan, Mike or me. Tom told us what happened the next morning before any of us noticed the wood grain impression on his forehead!Over the years we've come to treasure the nights that Tom lays awake because the rest of us are able to sleep without self-administering sub-lethal doses of medicinal spirits. For a little guy, he can really snore! To suddenly wake in the middle of the night when Tom tunes up defines 'sudden fear'! The fleeting thought of an asthmatic grizzly bear having gained entrance to the tent does produce an adrenaline rush measurable on the Richter Scale!After pondering the possible reasons for several years, there is now no question that Tom's sleep patterns contribute to his lack of success deer hunting. Dan, his partner no longer asks if Tom went to sleep on his stand, but instead asks how long it took him to get to sleep, and how long he slept. The deer have plenty of notice to stay out of range when Tom is out in the woods.I would like to report that the Twentieth Century ended without Tom bagging a deer. But alas, Tom did pass up a chance at one of the nicest two points any of us in camp had ever seen. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, he left a photo of it on the campground signboard.Spiced with More Tall Tales - Breakfast

_GAME WARDEN DOG

Steps:

• When I hired on as a conservation officer for Idaho Department of Fish & Game (IDFG) in September of 1978, Snoose turned six months old. I'd come by her four months earlier when I ran into a friend at IDFG Headquarters where we both had meetings. Russell had hired on as an officer a couple of years earlier and I still worked as a Wildlife Technician. At a break in the meetings I caught Russ up on what I'd been doing and told him about the awesome log home I had rented near Wayan in SE Idaho. He told me he had the perfect pup to live with me in such a great place. He still had two female pups from a litter of nine who needed homes. Being a canine sexist at the time, I told him 'No Thanks!' No females for me. I'd always had males. Apparently, Russ didn't have any better luck peddling those two pups during the day 'cause when I arrived at the restaurant that evening he bought me a beer, one of many that night, and started his sales pitch again.After rolling out of bed the next morning I needed three things really bad. First, and most important, a couple of aspirin, followed by a cup of coffee and, last, a hot shower...in that order. Not being the first guy to wake up with the events of the previous evening being a little fuzzy, I 'thought' I remembered writing Russ a check for $75.00 late the night before. (It was brought to my attention later that I actually wrote the check about closing time.) When I got out of the shower I looked in my checkbook. Sure enough, the self carbon copy of the last check said 'Pay to the Order Of' Russ Kozacek. My consolation being at the time that although Russ did succeed in selling me a dog, I hadn't bought dinner or a beer all night! Anyway...Snoose moved to the big log house in Wayan with me. She spent the summer leaning how to fetch, stay out from underfoot a saddlehorse, and how to load in a pickup truck.The transformation from civilian to game warden doesn't happen overnight. How successful a game warden is depends on both tangible and intangible criteria. One of the tangible criteria being, of course, the apprehension of violators who go home with pieces of paper labeled 'Defendant's Copy' in their wallets! Six weeks into my career and hunting seasons in full swing, the only citations my name appeared on listed me as 'Assisting Officer.' With elk season a week old my ego and confidence hit rock bottom. Sure, I had encountered some folks with problems, but their stories always seemed truthful to me. So I'd give them a weak verbal warning and go off in search of a 'big game case.' At the time I naively believed everyone always told the truth to the game warden!On Sunday of the second weekend of elk season, Snoose and I left the house in the gray light of dawn, headed for Jacknife and Tincup Creeks. I started making the rounds of trailheads and campgrounds thinking that if things didn't change, I would find myself back driving a truck. About noon I checked a camp of moose hunters breaking camp after getting a bull packed out. I then headed for McCoy Creek. I hoped that I could find a violation in my neighboring officer's area! By mid-afternoon, and several camps later, my luck hadn't changed. Discouraged doesn't even come close to how I felt. I stopped at a creek thinking Snoose might enjoy a swim, as the day was getting warm. My heart dropped when I got out of the truck! No Snoose! I started backtracking, asking folks I'd just checked if they remembered seeing my dog in the back of the truck. No luck!I headed back to Tincup Creek, not believing I could have missed her for such a long time. Finally I ended back up in the camp where I'd checked the moose hunters. There she lay contentedly chewing on a leg bone that they'd discarded. Apparently she hadn't missed me at all. After chastising her I loaded her back up and decided to check a couple of camps where no one had been present in the camp on my earlier swing through.As I pulled into the first one, a fellow came riding in leading a couple of packhorses. He told me he'd killed an elk, and that it was boned out in meat sacks on the pack stock. I felt pretty good writing him a citation for an unattached tag while he unloaded the packhorses. But something still sort of gnawed at my subconscious. Why I felt compelled to go through the meat sacks I'll never know! Unless one has the space to lay out the individual pieces of boned meat to determine their anatomical location you can't make sense of what your looking at. This guy and his buddies had made it easy. When I located a heart in the third sack of meat it didn't raise any alarm. In the fourth sack, though, I found another elk heart, which did set off all sorts of warning bells. Then it was obvious! These guys had killed two elk and tried to disguise the fact by boning the meat and mixing it up. I didn't hesitate to give Snoose the credit for leading me to that breakthrough big game case.I spent two thirds of my career with Snoose! Over the years she assisted me on several cases and on occasion made cases outright for me. Snoose didn't spend much time at home those first ten years. Most of the time she rode in the back of the truck, but fixed-wing aircraft, helicopters, drift boats, and rafts suited her just fine. Except for being in a duck blind, she was happiest trailing along ahead of my saddle horse as I pulled a pack string somewhere in the back country! The day finally arrived when it got too difficult for her to jump up into a pickup truck.Snoose spent seven years in retirement before she passed on just a couple days short of her fourteenth birthday. I still consider that $75.00 the best money I ever spent. A couple of years ago I returned the favor to Russ when I sold him a female pup out of my Chesapeake, Sis! Russ just wrote a check and saved me the expense of buying him dinner and beer for an evening!Spiced with More Tall Tales - Dedications

_COOKIN' WITH KRAUT

Steps:

• Marriage changes everyone who says, "I DO"! Few will argue that these changes do not occur, and in all honesty one must agree that change is good! (Sometimes though it takes a while to see the Good.) For we men, these changes run the gamut from putting the seat back down to wearing color-coordinated clothes. Somewhere on the list, food choices show up sooner or later. Like a balky mule, some menu items cause the changee to curl his lip and others cause him to wonder why it took so long to make the change. Much to my wife's relief, sauerkraut fell into the later category!Years ago Mom would fix sauerkraut and wieners for us kids. It was a quick fix when she got home from work late. Few things were simpler! Slice up a package of wieners and throw them in a pot with a couple of cans of store-bought kraut and dinner was done. While a game warden, I'd throw a couple of cans of kraut and some pre-cooked sausages in my chuck box as a backup meal in case a trip extended longer than planned. Until I met my wife, kraut fell into the lowest 20% of foods I liked. It was palatable and would do in a pinch.Being Czech, she started eating kraut as soon as she quit taking her food through a nipple. By the time we met, she held an advanced degree in judging the quality of kraut and how to cook it! From her I learned the sour in sauerkraut doesn't have to be overpowering. If using store-bought kraut, she prefers fresh over the canned. First thing, she pours it into a colander and rinses it two or three times with warm water. Much of the sour taste ends up going down the drain. Kraut prepared after rinsing takes on the seasoning of the dish being prepared without an overpowering 'sour' taste. Store-bought kraut is a thing of the past around our house now though! Last year a neighbor taught us an anaerobic method of making homemade kraut with no muss, no fuss, no foul odors, and no skimming of scum. It seems that no matter how many quarts we put up, they disappear in just a short time. Whether planning a meal at home or a menu for a camping trip, I've changed the rating on kraut to the top 20%!Spiced with More Tall Tales - Fish and Fowl

_MARINADES

Steps:

• I'm not sure when I first heard of marinades. I know my Mom didn't use them. Every chunk of meat went into a roasting pan or a skillet. Meat, potatoes, a vegetable, and a salad aptly described a typical menu around our house. Venison was treated the same way beef or pork. In the pan it went. In looking back now I realize my sisters and I grew up knowing venison tasted differently, but we didn't attach any special significance to that fact. As I grew older, I learned that some folks referred to this difference as a 'gamey' flavor and used marinades to mask or hide the taste of venison. I wish I had a dollar for every time I've heard someone describe marinating a piece of wild game then telling me there was no way you could tell it was venison after it was cooked. To my way of thinking they're missing the point.Marinades can be used to tenderize and flavor any cut of meat whether it's venison or domestic. I prefer to use marinades to introduce different flavors rather than a mask to hide something.Typically a marinade will be composed of at least two ingredients an acid in the form of vinegar or citrus juice, and an oil. The acid acts as a tenderizing agent, and the oil carries the flavors of any added spices and seasonings. If you plan to grill the meat, the oil also protects against burning. Because of the acid, use a non-reactive container such as glass, plastic, ceramic or stainless steel. When possible, I use a self-sealing plastic bag, which reduces the amount of marinade needed. Many of us, myself included, tend to operate under the philosophy 'a lot does a good job, more does it better!' Not necessarily so when it comes to marinades. Decide beforehand the purpose for your marinade and proceed accordingly. If you want to flavor something such as a venison back strap, do not marinate it over night, as you would do if trying to tenderize a beef brisket. The judicious use of marinades will add to your repertoire of interesting methods for preparing meat, be it domestic or wild.Spiced with More Tall Tales - Marinades and Rubs

_VEGGIES FOR CAMP

Steps:

• Keeping fresh produce in camp requires some planning, especially if you have to plan for salad hounds. Consider taking cabbage and making coleslaw instead of lettuce. The cabbage will keep several times longer than lettuce. A couple of years ago we shredded cabbage for coleslaw and packed it in resealable bags for a river trip. Squeeze as much air out as possible before you seal it. On day five we popped open the bags and made the dressing and had fresh slaw in less than ten minutes. If soups or stews are on your menu, throw in a few turnips and parsnips. Like potatoes, carrots, and onions they will keep fresh in a cooler or pack box for several days without ice. If you don't grow a garden, stop if you can at the local farmers' market on your way out of town on a summer trip. Farm fresh veggies taste better and are better for you. I try to keep canned veggies to a minimum just to save weight in my garbage sack. Also taking fresh veggies instead of frozen ones will reduce the amount of money you spend on ice. Depending on how long your trip is, many fresh veggies can be peeled, sliced, diced, etc., at home, which also saves preparation time in camp and reduces your garbage to bring out.Spiced with More Tall Tales - Vegetables and Salads

_HANK, JACK AND ME

Steps:

• All three of us moved to Challis, Idaho, within a year or so of each other. Hank Ketchie worked for the US Forest Service as a forester and arrived in 1977. I moved to Challis as a rookie game warden in November, 1978. Jack, when he did work, worked for me, and moved there in February, 1979. Jack and I had been acquainted for only a short time and didn't know each other very well before we both moved to Challis. I met Hank within the first week or so and it didn't take us long to become friends. During our first conversation we realized we'd attended Utah State University at the same time. Though we hadn't met there, we did have friends in common from college days. Being stationed in a small central Idaho cow town as a resource manager or a game warden presents its own unique social obstacles. We weren't social outcasts but socially we were cast together!That first fall of '78 went by in a blur. Trying to learn a new patrol area kept me going both night and day. Right after the first of the year the boss called me up and said to get my affairs in order 'cause I'd be spending five weeks at the police academy. Trust me, my social affairs were nonexistent which meant it didn't take me long to get ready and be gone. When I finished up in mid-February, I drove over to Wayan where I'd previously been stationed, before heading home to Challis. Jack had been staying with a friend of mine, Steve Somsen, since I'd left for Challis in November. He wasn't real glad to see me, but with a little persuasion loaded up and headed north with me. The first time I ever saw a horse smile was the next day when I unloaded Jack at my rented pasture in Challis. In Wayan the snow had been up almost to his belly while in Challis bare ground told Jack he'd indeed made a good move!Besides being a forester, Hank was a horseman. Not a cowboy, but a horseman! He did a little horse trading, horse training, and shod horses to support his hunting and fishing habits. A couple of days after I got back with Jack, Hank came by to see him. Hank didn't look too long before he said, "Besides being ugly, what other bad habits does he have?" I told him of the ones I knew but also said there were probably others yet unknown, which would surface soon enough!On several occasions I loaned Jack to Hank for various little chores like packing out an elk or two. In addition we made several rides together both for work and pleasure. It didn't take long to compile a pretty long list of Jack's faults. I don't know who had the most to learn, Jack or me! Any question I asked resulted in a common sense answer that came from experience and not from a book or magazine. Besides sharing his knowledge, Hank built a pair of pack boxes for me, doctored my stock when I was out of town, and showed me the lighter side of shoeing horses and mules. Like the time a two-year old filly getting shod for the first time got touchy and began wrestling Hank for control of a front foot. She won the match but when she set it down she ended up with her legs crossed. Hank didn't cuss or get upset, but simply said, "I like a lady who crosses her legs when she gets nervous!"On the professional level Hank and I worked timber sales together. Hank looked at things from the silvicultural standpoint and I from a wildlife management perspective. On our days off we hunted, fished, and explored the Pahsimeroi Valley, Hank riding Dan or Spot and me on Jack. Whether sitting in a duck blind or the cab of a truck coming back from a horse trip we always found something to talk about. I was the first person who knew that Hank and his wife, Deb, were expecting. Likewise Hank called me first when he killed a bull elk with his bow, or when his dog, Rev, learned a new trick. But, Hank kept a secret from me along with others for nearly three years. He had cancer!Towards the end, Rich Rodgers, Nick Zufelt, and I traveled to Salt Lake City, Utah, to visit Hank. Hank could still get around a little and after the others said their goodbyes and left, he walked me to the elevator. As the door closed Hank said, "Jack has improved enough I'd put him in my string!" Hank said this with dry eyes, but mine were still running when I hit the ground floor. These many years later, two emotions come to mind when I think of Hank! For the short time we spent together I'll always be grateful, but I'll always be sad because of how short the time ultimately ended up being!Spiced with More Tall Tales - Dedications

_CAMP CREATIONS

Steps:

• Few things in life end up being written in stone, the exception of course, a few short words on a gravestone that marks a final resting place. I've run across cooks who treat every recipe card as a piece of granite. Changing a recipe crosses their mind just before they consider voluntary commitment to an institution! In an extreme case, a cook I know totally changed his menu one night for the lack of a certain spice! Camp cooks rarely have that luxury. My personal opinion is, if someone is that hidebound they should cook for survival purposes only and take up something like underwater basket weaving when they want to have fun!If you truly enjoy camp cooking, an empty Dutch oven should be to you what an empty canvas is to an artist. The artist begins with daubs of paint on a palette while the camp cook opens the grub box and takes stock. Regardless of the colors used or the contents of the chuck box, only imagination and creativity limit the final product. The end result should be pleasing for both artist and cook. The difference being the painting ends up gracing a wall and the meal graces a table.Many recipes in this book and those still in my files got their start in camp. Hunting season ends up being a month long carousel of company and camps. Everyone shows up with plenty of grub. For convenience, we'll prepare some main dishes at home then take them to camp frozen. These are great when everyone gets in late. Also we have plenty of basics such as spuds, onions, dried beans, rice, and baking supplies. For the first few days if you were to sit back and silently observe, you'd think we actually had a plan. The last few days things change. Mealtime finds the cook rummaging through the grub box and coolers scratching his head trying to figure out just what to fix. Leftovers might show up as a side dish or the cornerstone of something new. The resulting meals end up being equal parts availability and necessity. Whether you're cooking for a crew in camp or the family on the patio, fill your Dutch with creativity and everyone will be back for seconds!Spiced with More Tall Tales - Breakfast

_WARDEN STEW

Steps:

• This camp cookbook tends to focus on "sagebrush gourmet", or in more civilized circles what's referred to as fancy cookin'! Yet, there comes a time when it's "hold the garnish, hold the special herbs, hold the time spent slicing and dicing, and hold digging through all the horse packs for a measuring spoon, let's just get something on the fire so we can eat and hit the sack"! Tony Latham, an Idaho Game Warden, aka the "Laser" who has spent more time kicking around the Central Idaho wilderness areas than most, wanted to pass on his favorite "Wilderness Fast Food" recipe. To those outside the wildlife law enforcement fraternity, let me preface this recipe with a little of my own experience. Here in Idaho, the typical game warden has in excess of a thousand square miles to patrol. Obviously, some patrol areas are larger than others, with back country patrol areas up to three times the average. During the fall big game seasons, it's an understatement to say one can get spread "purty thin" tryin' to effectively patrol areas of such size! It reminded me of an old warden buddy of mine, who used to tell of trying to feed a whole troop of boy scouts with two little dinky hatchery trout and a bag of stale hamburger buns! Kinda tough to get enough to go around without divine intervention. It doesn't matter if you're jerking a string of horses in the back country, trying to float an extra mile before darkness sets in, pulling one's truck off on an old log road at midnite, or getting home in the wee hours, "Lasers Warden Stew" sure beats the hell out of dreaming about over priced, foreign sounding dishes at restaurants four hours by plane away!A Back Country Guide to Outdoor Cooking Spiced with Tall Tales - Camp Chili, Stews, Soups and Sauces