Outdoors

An acquaintance of mine rates assorted fearful experiences in his life by what he calls the pucker factor. He is not referring to his lips — he is talking about the constriction of muscles in his lower anatomy that make his buttocks close so tightly in certain fearful situations they could crack walnuts.

A patch of timberland on the banks of the Saint Joe River is expected to move into public ownership next year, giving anglers a reason to celebrate.

If you’re looking to start 2026 with some outdoor inspiration, you won’t have to wait long.

Despite legislative testimony saying it was unlikely to happen, some of Idaho's domestic elk farms have proven to be porous with multiple examples of wild animals getting into the high-fenced operations and domestic animals escaping.

When you lack religion, rehab, or amnesia, the only way to turn a new leaf is via the New Year’s Resolution. There are a few cantankerous naysayers out there who claim one can resolve to anything at any time, but I suspect they’re just tired of failing.

In spite of all the wind, rain, downed trees and fog, the elk living on the Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge still find a place to enjoy breakfast in this photo from Buck Domitrovich.

Fly fishing

The Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife is seeking public input on a draft periodic status review for the Canada lynx that includes a recommendation to keep the animal classified as a state endangered species, according to a news release.

The forest was still alive; crepuscular animals ran and played about in the fallen leaves and undergrowth. The night had not arrived, so the feeling of safety and warmth had not yet left.

A world awash in gray. Gray gravel crunching, spraying, flinging across the ground. Gray hoofbeats up and over and down, in a three-beat rhythm. Gray-tinged ears with a tilted gray world going past once. Then twice. Then over and over again until my vision blurs as the palisade of whirling gray air thickens and rises. Until finally, the circle slows and stops, at the behest of a gray voice.

It’s been 11, painstakingly long years since I last went camping. Outside in a tent –“roughing it” was what I told my mom when we were “camping” in a cabin years later. It was nearly a sour memory. We had arrived at the campground late at night and had brought no toilet paper. The early morning cold and bumpy rocks beneath me had woken me up, and my friends who had joined the trip with their families were so intertwined with each other that they left me alone in the shady sandbox. But at least that meant I could use the kids sized excavator that came with the sandbox all for myself, which was fun. I also remember the charred, smoky hotdogs and marshmallows that my dad and his friends barbecued on the cheap public grill. And the box of Cheerios we bought with a Minion keychain inside. So the trip wasn’t all bad.

I know its right,

Fly fishing

My grandmother is 95, or 117, or somewhere in between. Every day, she wakes up, drags her 30-feet-of-freedom cable into the kitchen to make the World’s Weakest Coffee, butters a half slice of toast, and starts a fire in her wood stove. The latter she does with half a used tissue and a stick.

A group of Canada geese take off from Saltese Wetlands earlier this month in this photo by Mark Hendrickson.

MINNEAPOLIS — The problem with pulling a trigger is that you can’t unpull it — a lesson some hunters learn the hard way. Excited to raise your shotgun in the direction of what you think is a snow goose, only to find out the bird you killed is a protected trumpeter swan? Too late, once you’ve pulled the trigger. Think that late-afternoon movement in the brush is the monster whitetail buck ...

Federal officials have ordered the closure of a handful of Forest Service roads in North Idaho because of flood damage.