They were delicious. Happy 250th America.

Happy Canada Day and 4th of July to everyone. This week's cold shot challenge is using something that makes an appearance at a lot of BBQS this time of a year, a red solo cup, and we're gonna fill it up...with arrows. It's a simple challenge to help us aim small, simple secure the cup however you'd like and walk back 10 paces and take your shot. If successful the next day go an additional 2 paces If unsuccessful you repeat the yardage the next day. Enjoy! I'll post my daily attempts for the coming week. Day 1 success. Tomorrow is 12 paces. If you don't have a cup simply make something similar in diameter.

I've been missing in action the last month--blame additional work and the end of school season. I'm finally getting a chance to share another poem. It's still rough, but I feel this one will resonate well with the Ethical Predator membership. Enjoy! _____________________________ 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨 There was a time when the hunter moved like he was the land. His gear was born from my bones—crafted from the earth itself. His bow, carved from a branch that had fallen in a storm, shaped by the wind and guided by the rhythm of the seasons. His arrows, fletched with feathers he found beneath my trees, each one a quiet prayer to the creatures that roamed beside him. His cloak, sewn from the pelts of animals who gave themselves to him, soft with time, worn with memory. Every piece of his gear was a gift from me, crafted with care, worn with respect. Nothing was wasteful. Everything had a purpose. And he understood this. He knew that to take from me was to give back—always. The earth never gives without asking something in return. His scent? That was my scent. He moved through my trees like a shadow, invisible to all but me. His smell was of autumn leaves crushed underfoot, the rich earthiness of peat moss pulled from the bogs, the faint, smoky trace of a fire that had passed through and renewed the soil. These scents, warm from the sun, clung to him and blended with the wind. He didn’t try to hide his scent. He became part of me. Part of my cycle. I gave, and he took only what he needed, moving through my world with respect, never deceit. He wasn’t separate from me. He was of me. But now ... now I watch. I see him standing in my forests, a stranger wrapped in the cold, unnatural fibers of a world that doesn’t belong here. His boots are no longer soft leather or moss-covered soles; they are stiff, synthetic, designed to block out the very earth I gave him. His bow, once made of wood—shaped by the hands of a craftsman—is now a sleek, polished tool of metal and plastic. His arrows, which used to be fletched with feathers, are now cold, carbon-fiber rods, sharp and foreign to my soil.

So yesterday sucked. I was out looking for a bear again, following sign, learning the territory. I was feeling good about it right up until I spotted some dark fur in the brush to my left. Unfortunately it was a dog. Someone's dog had found a snare. It must have been there a while. He was not in good shape. I didnt wanna mess around, trapping season is long over and these traps clearly weren't being checked. So I backed out and called the CO. I took the officer out and showed him, he was as unimpressed as I was. He found 5 more, one with a lynx leg complete with hip still attached all bone, another with some sort of vertebrae in it, and one that had been snapped off and an empty one. This is a legal trapline, I knew one was out there but I didnt realize it went that far. I think the dog was sniffing after the lynx leg when he got snared. Sadie-May plays out there all the time, she used to bust through the bush for hare and grouse back there, scary thought. I crossed the trail while the officer handled the scene. I found 5 more, always 5 in a circle. All empty thankfully. I told the CO that I had called last year aswell about a bird stuck in a snare that had been there a while in another spot. These traps just clearly aren't getting checked. That really pisses me off. So I took him to that spot too. I showed him where that bird had been last season. We found bones and a wing. 5 snares in a circle. I crossed the trail, and found five more in a circle. One with the remnants of a hare still in it, one with the remnants if a ruffed grouse, another with some sort of vertebrae possibly a coyote, and one still set. Again, trapping season has been over for months. These traps were left set for who knows how long for animals to just wander into and waste. The officer did his thing, recorded and inventoried it all, bagged it all. We didnt see any more but my eyes are peeled. I have no issue with trappers that follow the rules, but this isn't that. I dont know if you can even call it poaching since nothing trapped was collected. I get it. Shit happens. That dog should never have been that far out by himself. That trap may have snagged him in season, I dont know. But this guy clearly isn't checking or taking down his snares. That dog should have been removed and posted long before I saw it. I was unable to find any posts on Facebook about the dog, and as always, no collar or tag (people are ridiculous) the officer was gonna have him checked for a chip.