The Great River and the Black Sheep
The silence is broken by a red pine squirrel; I swear he is scolding me. Chastising me, actually, but possibly no worse than I am chastising myself. Here I am, on my first trip as a professional naturalist, and I have already made grievous mistakes.
The latest mistake, last night, had almost gotten me and my companions drowned. We were part way up the Stickeen River, with the water in full flood stage. Another mistake, just being here. Probably two weeks too early, but when we left Wrangell, Alaska, I was too impatient to get going and did not listen to reason. As always, man plans and the gods laugh. Continue Reading
The Chadwick Ram
I’m in The luxurious dining car of a Canadian Pacific Railway train, rolling westbound out on the vast Canadian prairie, chasing the sunset. The ride is smooth, the dinner excellent, and the company interesting. The gentleman sitting across from me, Robert, is a fellow hunter heading out west to go elk hunting. I’m heading that direction as well, to go on a mountain hunt for a very different species.
Earlier in the day when I introduced myself he immediately recognized my name, Lee Sherman Chadwick, and knew of my association with the Chadwick car. We spent quite a bit of time chatting about this, along with hunting of course. Continue Reading