Have you ever taken a country boy to the city?  They stand out like hunters orange in a sea of Ponderosas. Well I took my country boy to the Miami this week…  Let me tell you what…It was pure entertainment gold.

I should have been wiser and checked his suitcase before we left to ensure that he did not have a suitcase full of camo, hiking boots and animal calls, but I didn’t.  There is where our story begins.

The day has arrived and it is time to go on our sunny Florida vacation.  The outdoorsman is wearing jeans, a flannel shirt and boots.  I figured he just was wearing this since it is cold here and he would change upon our arrival to the beach.  Wrong, but I didn’t know that at the time.  We board the plane, which the outdoorsman really does not enjoy traveling unless he is seated behind the wheel of his mud-crusted 4x4 truck.  Needless to say, he was not impressed by the miniscule amount of leg room he had, the half cup of Bud Light or by the teeny, tiny bag of peanuts he received.  I think he expected a Lazy boy recliner, a tall boy ice cold Bud Light and a bag of jerky.  I’m not really sure where the complaint comes from considering he crams himself into duck blinds, rolls around in sagebrush and hangs out of trees in order to hide himself from wildlife.  You would think that an airplane seat would be fairly comfortable comparably.   Wrongo…I had to listening to huffing and puffing and ride with half of his upper body overflowing into my seat for the entire ride. 

The real fun came once we arrived in the city.  We had reserved a rental car and it was not a truck.  In fact, the only remaining car was a teeny, weeny BMW.  The outdoorsman does not drive BMWs.  He grumbled and mumbled stuff about feeling like an idiot as he parked his flannel clad butt in the driver’s seat.  I have to admit.  He looked a little funny and very uncomfortable sitting there.  I usually am a little afraid for my life when I ride in the outdoorsman’s truck, but I know that when we do eventually crash from his deer distracted driving, at least we are in a big truck and we have to be fairly safe.  Now we were in a tiny car, and the distractions came from lines of traffic and cars zooming around us going 80 mph.  His head was spinning and there was a lot of swearing going on.  I was afraid, very afraid.  A BMW has very touchy pedals.  That little car hauled butt and once the outdoorsman figured it out, I just knew we were going to die.  There was no grill guard and we were about a foot off the ground.  I kept envisioning someone scraping me off the road.  This was no truck and outdoorsmen need trucks. 

Now, you can put the outdoorsman in the middle of God’s land and he will be able to march straight to the nearest city, guided by the caveman GPS located in his brain.  To me, all the trees look the same and I do not notice the shape of mountain tops and landscapes.  I could get seriously lost in the woods.  You put an outdoorsman in the city.  He is helpless.  We drove the same route from our hotel to the beach 4 times a day and by the end of the week, he still had no idea how to get from one place to the next. 

We make it from the airport, to the rental car to the hotel and then it gets weird.  The heat was sweltering, only to be beat by the severe humidity.  I loved it.  I had on shorts, a tank top, and flip flops the second we hit our hotel door.  The outdoorsman, being a true mountain man, insisted that he was “fine” wearing jeans, a camo t-shirt, and boots.  I ask him if he has shorts or anything resembling summer clothing.  Nope…I check his suitcase to make sure…Nope; it is full of jeans and camo.  He says he doesn’t need anything besides what he has got.  Ok…..Whatever you say honey.  We head out the door to check out the city and the outdoorsman’s head about snaps off as he sees men in skinny jeans and Speedos.  He is blushing and grumbling, meanwhile, I am cracking up.  I think he is a little afraid that the men in their shorty shorts are “checking” him out, but I’m pretty sure they are just amazed at the rugged brute wearing jeans in 100 degree heat.

fter the outdoorsman has about had a heat stroke, we head to dinner.  Lucky me, he happens to spot some sea gulls walking around near the sidewalk.  He begins “calling”.  Someone kill me please.  The sea gulls obviously do not respond to this strange screeching and continue on their merry way.  But everyone around us is staring.  They are probably wondering where the hell we came from…Montana. Howdy! 

If you have ever been to southern Florida, you know that there are gators everywhere.  The locals do not even notice or care.  I am freakkiiingg out!!  The outdoorsman spots one and decides to go all “Crocodile Dundee” on its ass and tries to chase it down.  Of course, it quickly slides into the water and escapes.  Thank God!  I really do not think that we need to have a gator mounted or get new cowboy boots made from the skin, which is exactly what the outdoorsman says would have happened if he had caught the SOB.

We finally arrive at the restaurant for dinner…the outdoorsman’s eyes are rapidly scanning over the menu and he is near panic.  There is an assortment of pates, cheeses, and girly looking dishes.  His stomach is rumbling and he wants steak and taters.  Thankfully at the bottom of the menu, there is a prime rib with potatoes.  Phew!! There might have been a scene and then we would have been hitting up McDonalds for the biggest burger they could muster.  Oh, yummy, fine dining at its best…

Well…after a week of days filled with near death BMW experiences, insulated camo hunting pants, sea gull calling, unsuccessful gator chasing, and steak only restaurants, we head home. 

I am warning you…you can take a camo man out of the woods, but you can’t take the woods out of the camo man.

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

John Chaney was a college student in the 1970s when he decided to document the few remaining American bald eagles before their seemingly inevitable extinction.

The lower 48 had fewer than 450 mating pairs of bald eagles then. He wondered what a United States of America would be like with no bald eagles.

He learned about salmon fishermen awarding bounties for eagles they thought threatened their profession, with 100,000 killed from 1917-1953. He learned about nesting areas destroyed by logging and development. He read up on DDT, used as an agricultural insecticide, thinning the shells of eagle eggs so much they cracked before chicks were ready to hatch. This wasn’t long after the Cuyahoga River fire of 1969, when the nation saw images of oil on a Cleveland river in flames, a nadir that spurred the environmental movement.

One of his college professors began listing all the species that had gone extinct in his lifetime. That got Chaney thinking. The professor was “convinced (the eagles) wouldn’t make it another decade or two.”

And then Chaney saw his first bald eagle. He was sitting on a bluff when the eagle came flying down the Mississippi toward him.

MORE>>>Great Falls Tribune

One-ton bison bulls stand belly-deep in snow, swinging their massive heads to dig down to buried grass. The Lamar River disappears under a white winter blanket crisscrossed with four-footed tracks. Steam clouds from the Mammoth Terraces tower against a cold blue sky.

This is winter in Yellowstone, and you can see it from the comfort of your own car. The park’s north entrance at Gardiner is open year-round. The road across the northern tier is plowed all the way to Cooke City; snow tires are required. Critters outnumber people in February, March and early April when all other park roads are closed to regular traffic.

The wildlife watching starts outside the park’s Gardiner entrance. Bald eagles often perch on the highest trees along the Yellowstone River around Corwin Springs. Bands of bighorn sheep also frequent that area, along with antelope, mule deer and elk. Just inside the Gardiner park entrance, look up for bighorns that often graze the bench on the east side of the road or cling to the steep slopes above the Boiling River.

At times, the snow-covered hills between Gardiner and Mammoth are dotted with elk and bison. In Mammoth, take a walk around the thermal terraces or stroll between the historical markers at Fort Yellowstone. Stop in the Albright Visitor Center (renovated last year and now open 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily) to warm up and learn about Yellowstone in museum exhibits and video.

Heading east, visitors can see the icy spires of Undine Falls. The falls overlook is just a few yards from the road, but watch your step on the snowpacked path.

MORE>>>Billings Gazette

The Sunday night mid-season premiere of "The Walking Dead" on AMC delivered what many fans thought was a rather explosive episode.

It was also, apparently, a bit too loud and realistic for at least a few people in Great Falls.

Officers with the Great Falls Police Department responded to a residence for a report just before 7:30 p.m. of a neighbor hearing loud noises and gunshots coming from a home nearby.

Police officers responded to the scene and surrounded the home, some with weapons drawn.

When they arrived, they discovered that the family was inside the home watching "The Walking Dead" with the volume turned up and the windows open.

No further action was taken. Police did not disclose the location of the incident.

MORE>>>KBZK

Lacey Middlestead is a Montana native and freelance writer currently living in Helena, Mont. She loves meeting new people and helping share their stories. When she’s not busy writing articles for newspapers like the Independent Record and Helena Vigilante, she can usually be found indulging in her second greatest passion–playing in the Montana wilderness. She loves skiing and snowmobiling in the winter and four wheeling, hiking, boating, and riding dirt bikes in the summer.

Looking to kick the adventure level up a notch on your favorite winter sports? Nothing does that better than adding in a twist of darkness.

A few weeks ago I found myself, along with my husband and another close friend, winding our way up the narrow road to Great Divide Ski Hill. We’d gotten the brilliant idea days earlier that night skiing on Friday would be the perfect way to jumpstart our weekend.

When Friday finally arrived I kept a close watch on the mountains in the direction of the ski hill throughout the work day. They were hazy white most of the afternoon so I knew fresh snow was falling and would give us a fluffy top coat. A bitter wind stirred up first thing in the morning, however, and grew with intensity as the day progressed. I started wondering whether the ski trip would even be possible. But the boys were completely undeterred by the potential blizzardy conditions up on the hill and told me we were still going. I must admit I admired their determination to see this activity through.

After layering up our base and mid layers and piling our skis in the back of my friend, Chris’, truck we were on our way. As we approached the hill, the winds began to still and the clouds overhead parted to reveal a clear night sky. It was about 5 or 5:30 pm. when we finally pulled into a parking space near the lodge. Even though night skiing had started at 4 p.m. there weren’t many cars there yet so we were able to get a pretty good spot.

After suiting up in snowpants, boots, helmets, goggles and facemasks, we propped our skis up on our shoulder and began clomping up to the lodge to purchase our lift tickets. Something told me this was going to be my best skiing outing all season.

As we skated our way into the lane for the chairlift we were delighted to see that only a few people were in front of us. We quickly shuffled our way up to the front and slid onto the frosty chair lift seats. As we inched our way up the hill, I found myself mesmerized by all the flood lights staggered up the main bowl casting sepia globes of light onto the snow and skiers below.

The snow conditions were perfect that evening. Several inches of fresh powder dusted across the surface of the hill and hugged our skis as they drifted through. Snowflakes continued meandering down from above like tiny dancers under the spotlights. It all created a magical ambiance for our ski trip that night.

At the top of the chair lift you could either take off down a run along the side of the mountain or go straight down the main bowl. The bowl was steeper and further challenged our skills so it was the run we frequented most. While Andy and Chris preferred to dash toward the darkened edge of the bowl where deeper snow lay, I chose to weave down the middle where I had clearer views of the city lights in the distance. It was a soft glow that was both beautiful and comforting.

After a few runs, I took a brief detour off the hill to use the bathroom while Andy and Chris headed up for another run. While inside the lodge, I couldn’t help but pause to grab a bag of Wild Berry Skittles to carry me through until dinner. I figured I could stash them in my coat pocket and enjoy them on the chairlift. What I didn’t realize was they would soon turn into hardened but fruity little pebbles after a few minutes outside. Still not a bad snack though!

By the time we made our 11th run, or 10th for me, my hands and feet burned from the cold and desperately sought to be back in the warmth of inside. After reaching the bottom of the hill we carefully maneuvered through the parking lot on our skis till we reached the truck so we wouldn’t have to tote them down from the lodge. Even with my gloves still on, my hands trembled as I quickly detached my boots from their bindings and loosened the buckles to pull my feet out and nestle them back in furry boots.

After we all finished changing, we climbed back in Chris’ truck and made our way back down the dark road through Marysville and onto the highway. Just on the outskirts of town, we made a pit-stop at the Grubstake for some burgers and chicken strips and regaled each other with stories about other ski trips the three of us had taken together.

Most people dream of blue bird days up on the hill, but for me, a few hours of skiing in the dark under the lights and twinkling snow was a far more memorable adventure.