Starbucks and guns

As I was reading my e-mails today, I happened across one from the NRA with a “vote now” window, asking me if I would be patronizing Starbucks more because of the anti-gun boycott of said coffee beanery.

What? Starbucks was being boycotted? This I had to see for myself. After a bit of research, I came across this page on Free Republic, which is brief but makes for an interesting read.  The readers’ comments, however, had me laughing out loud. Read more

Comparatively superlative

Editors often see errors like this:

The Watson River is the smallest of the two, and is known for its rainbow trout fishing.

If you recognized that smallest is incorrect and should be smaller, you know about comparatives and superlatives, whether you realize it or not.

Comparatives and superlatives are special forms of adjectives that are used in comparing two or more things. In the example above, the writer incorrectly used the superlative form (smallest) when he should have used the comparative form (smaller).

How do you tell? Simple: Use the comparative when you’re comparing only two things, and the superlative for more than two.

Comparative: Choose the lesser of two evils.

Superlative: Murphy’s Law states that if anything can go wrong, it will, at the worst possible time.

Adjective      Comparative      Superlative

good                  better                        best

less                   lesser                        least

bad                     worse                       worst

Here are the answers to the bloopers in the last post:

5. David W. Johnson is described as Gov. David A. Paterson’s closest confidante, despite arrests in the aide’s past and disputes with women that drew the police.

Wrong noun form. A confidante (with an e) is a woman in whom one confides. For a man, it should be confidant.

4. And, no, Lloyd Blankfein getting a bonus of “only” $9 million this year won’t diffuse the populist outrage.

Wrong verb. Diffuse means to spread. Should be defuse, meaning to disarm or render harmless.

3. Anyone who thinks famous pro athletes are monogamous (even married ones) are delusional.

Lack of agreement between subject and verb. Anyone is singular, so its verb must be is: Anyone who thinks . . . is delusional.

2. After realizing he could build a better bullet, the Nosler Partition came into being.

Dangling modifier. This says that the Nosler Partition (a bullet brand) realized it could build a better bullet . . . or something. Rewritten thus: After John Nosler realized he could build a better bullet, the Nosler Partition came into being.

1. Being a small country of only 5.5 million people, I was surprised to learn that it is home to more than 40,000 red deer, as well as a host of other game animals.

Another dangling modifier. This says that the writer (I) is a small country of 5.5 million people. Rewritten thus: Because it’s a small country of only 5.5 million people, I was surprised to learn that it is home to . . .

Here are some new editorial funnies with which to test yourself:

5. I must admit my thoughts did go to Ruark’s “Death in the Tall Grass” due to the present bush conditions.

4. After having some cool beverages, our luggage and rifle cases were loaded into the hunt vehicles and we departed for camp.

3. Thousands of curiosity seekers diverged on the small town to see what possessions of Eddie’s would be auctioned.

2. Using a router with a 3/8” rabbit bit, cut a grove along the outer edge of the plaque.

1. Nonpsychotic major depression during pregnancy and the postpartum are a widespread health threat to mother, infants, and families.

A few tips for those multi-taskers out there

The modern day outdoor writer tends to have a touch of multiple personality disorder. I’m a photographer. No, a reporter. No a blogger. No, wait, I’m a photographer. A writer?

Whoever thought it was good idea to combine these once separate professions (heck, those outdoor writers are out there goofing around anyway, right?)  never juggled a Canon Mark II, three lenses, a notepad, and tried desperately to find a pen hidden somewhere in fourteen pockets while a cranky game warden tapped their booted toe in haughty disdain.

But alas, they did and so here we are.

The reality is the world of media is moving this way consistently. When I entered journalism school the term “backpack journalist” – a title for those who, among other things, write, photograph, record audio and the occasional video – wasn’t common. By the time I graduated, it was a regular in job postings. For the outdoor writer, this is especially true. Why would an editor pay to send two people into the back country when he can just send one?

The problem is, as soon as you start dividing your attention, something always suffer. Either you miss a good quote, or a good moment passes you by and you end the day kicking yourself because instead of doing one thing well, you’ve accomplished fifty mediocre things. In the infancy of my career, I would find myself really frustrated, that is, until I learned the rules of the game. Here are a couple of tips:

1. Images sell the story.
Even if you don’t sell the images themselves, the details you can pull from your photographs will make your story come alive (not to mention more accurate). I sometimes find myself scribbling down details in my notebook, only to miss an important photo. Photographers are reporters too. There’s nothing worse than knowing you missed a winner of a photo for a quote that will end up being cut anyway. Remember, information can be repeated, but good light and decisive-moments cannot. When you are in the thick of it, spend most of your energy photographing.

2. Internalize the experience.
If you’re one of those people who make your living with a camera in one hand and a pen in the other, there’s no way you’re going to be able to capture every detail. It’s just not possible. So make the most of your time. Approach each story with a general understanding of what kind of story this is (with the flexibility to alter or adapt it as you gather information). Is this a classic struggle and success story? Is it a love story? What is the bigger picture here and why do people care? This means A. Do your research and B. Trust your instincts. Much of the description in my stories comes from taking a step back and really examining what I experienced while reporting it. What were my gut reactions? What feelings came up as I reported it? By taking an honest look at my own personal experience, I find I can often dig deeper into stories than just recording what happened.

3. Recorders are your friends.
If you have the time, record, record, record. Put a little recorder in your subject’s pocket, carry it in a pack, or heck, tape it to your camera. Do something to free up your hands (and brain) to focus on what is happening right in front of you.

4. Learn to read people
Practice this profession enough and you’ll start to think you’re a mind reader. People have patterns. Use that to your advantage. You’ll find yourself setting down your notebook at just the right moment to capture an expression that tells the whole story and then picking it back up again as if you never set it down.

5. Pick your battles
Some stories cry out for a writer. Some for a photographer. Learn to recognize the best medium in which to tell your story and then go for it. At the end of the day, your job is to communicate to the best of your ability. If you’re lucky, you’ll have a few tools to choose from.

“Cowboy School”

This is an image I captured after forcing myself to set down my notebook. I was working on a story about a man who taught everyday people how to rope and ride on a small ranch in northern Wyoming. The light had been marginal all week until this fifteen minute segment on the very last day of my visit. The decision was well worth it.

American Chestnut Foundation seeks queries, photographs

The American Chestnut Foundation (TACF) is overhauling its publications and plans to launch a bimonthly, 24-page, full-color magazine this summer. The goal of TACF is to restore the American chestnut tree
to its native range within the woodlands of the eastern United States, using a scientifi c research and breeding program developed by its founders. TACF now hopes to begin reforestation trials with blight-resistant American-type trees before the end of this decade, using sound ecological principles. To produce an excellent magazine for current and potential members, TACF is looking for contributors. Writers and photographers are needed to cover a wide range of topics including planting and caring for chestnuts and other trees
and shrubs, forest ecology and new product ideas. TACF also seeks articles about wildlife that depended on chestnut trees and how restoration will benefit them now, people stories from past and present, recipes, wood crafts, book reviews, state and federal habitat enhancement programs, environmental issues and more. These are just a few examples. Your laundry list of great ideas is welcome.
To learn more about TACF, visit www.acf.org. Send
query letters to Meghan Jordan at meghan@acf.org.

Katherine Browne — Member of The WOMA

Katherine graduated cum laude from Mount Holyoke College with a degree in biology and has worked as a wildlife and fisheries biologist, fly-fishing guide and whitewater rafting guide in Gunnison, Colorado. As the Pro-Staff Coordinator for Prois Hunting Apparel, she provides apparel to the most talented and well-known women in the hunting industry, as well as showcasing the activities and accomplishments of the Prois pro-staff.

Katherine didn’t grow up in a hunting or fishing family, but her passion for the outdoors led her to her current lifestyle.  Every winter for the past three years, she has trapped and trained a bird of prey for hunting and released it the following spring. In addition to falconry, fly fishing and whitewater rafting, Katherine enjoys hunting elk, deer, grouse and turkeys. Katherine often feels that there are not enough hours in the day to spend outside doing the things she loves.

Apply for media badge to QDMA National Convention in July

Once again, QDMA is inviting professional outdoor communicators to attend the QDMA National Convention free of charge. All functions, events and meals associated with the National Convention are on us. Mark July 9-11 on your calendar and plan to attend.

Making the most of QDMA’s seminar speakers and Whitetail Expo exhibitors, our media guests in years past have left the Convention with interviews and material for numerous articles. You’ll also enjoy networking with the leading experts in deer hunting, biology and management at evening events.

To register for a Media Badge: Look for a future e-mail with a Media registration form attached.

In the meantime, mark your calendar and make your travel plans!

Convention Hotel:
Louisville Marriott Downtown (headquarters hotel)
(800) 533-0127
Request the QDMA National Convention group rate

For more hotel options: http://www.gotolouisville.com.
For more details about the Convention: http://www.qdma.com/events/national-convention/

Don’t hesitate to call or write with questions.
I look forward to seeing you in Louisville!

Lindsay Thomas Jr.
Director of Communications
Quality Deer Management Association
170 Whitetail Way
Bogart, GA 30622
(800) 209-3337
www.QDMA.com

QDMA … Better Deer, Better Deer Hunting

NRA Women’s Leadership Forum inaugural Phoenix event

My husband, Al, first taught me about the importance of the National Rifle Association and how they have sustained our Second Amendment right to bear arms. I am thrilled to be working with NRA’s Women’s Leadership Forum and especially excited that Al and I were able to host the first event in Phoenix.  Judi White from Tucson spearheaded this group. When asked about bringing it to Phoenix, of course I was on board.

The NRA Women’s Leadership Forum unites women of influence to defend our Second Amendment freedoms and help secure the future of the NRA through philanthropic leadership.

We are working to get the message out to women that their membership in the NRA Women’s Leadership Forum is vital in order for the NRA to continue to defend the Constitution, offer programs to women and young people, and fight to protect our rights to lawfully own firearms.  Women are particularly interested in the ability to protect themselves and their families in their homes, and don’t believe the government should take away their right to do so.

Membership in the Forum starts at $1,000 a year, and members receive invitations to special events around the country throughout the year, and at the Annual Meeting. Women have the opportunity to have a voice in the organization through their membership in the Women’s Leadership Forum and bring to the forefront issues of importance to them.

Whether women want to own a firearm or not, the NRA is for them—we teach safety to children at all ages, including our Eddie Eagle GunSafe Program, which teaches young children to “Stop, Don’t Touch, Leave the Area, and Tell an Adult” if they find a firearm, and we offer our Refuse to be a Victim course, which gives women a plan for personal protection and crime prevention.

Please go to Facebook to view more photos of this groundbreaking event.

I hope you will join us at the NRA Convention in Charlotte, North Carolina! And if you have any questions, please let me know.  Marsha@MarshaPetrieSue.com

The road to the range … let the adventures begin

I’ve been shooting handguns for the past six years. I shoot competitively and as most of you know there is never but a few ladies that you see on the range.I went to a bowling pin match at a local shooting club one day and saw they had 12 ladies there. I was amazed, so I walked up to one of the ladies and asked, “How did you get such a great turn out of ladies?”

She explained that they ran a Ladies Day Shoot once a year to get the ladies interested, and it was working! So I decided to have one at my club, and we had 28 ladies show up. I decided since we had such a great turn out that maybe we should do it more than once a year — so, with the help of some wonderful guys at our local club, we been doing this once a month for the last four years. Read more

On health, hunting and happiness

It has been an extreme winter here in the Rocky Mountains.  With spring peeking around the corner, I was reflecting back on how wonderful winter has been.  One in particular taught me a lot about life and about hunting.

For Christmas, we took my friend’s 83 year old grandfather hunting for his private land cow elk.  Each year we think that it may be his last hunt because of his age and of course his health.  This year was no different.

Christmas morning the thermometer reads -18 degrees.  We headed out to search of elk for Grandpa.  We saw a spotted a small heard over a ridge.  After a short uphill hike, and a whole lot of huffing and puffing and stops to catch his breath, we him into position to get a shot.

Unfortunately, his shot missed its mark.  The hike was a lot for him.  He just was not able to catch his breath to get steadied enough.  We had worn him out.  He was pretty upset at his miss, and quietly walked back down the hill to the pick-up.  We headed home for Christmas dinner and put him under the electric blanket to rest.

Saturday morning, we were up early and convinced Grandpa to head out again.  That morning we were trying a new location to hunt for that cow elk.  When we arrived it was -23 degrees!  Grandpa was sore from the previous day.  He told us he was worn out and he didn’t think he could do another hike like yesterday.  We told him we would get him to a location that would be a little easier.  We located some cows, but they were on the wrong side of the fence for that private land tag.   Today the girls just were not co-operating.  With the temperature being so cold, we could not set Grandpa out to wait for them to come to the property, so we headed home.  It was another unsuccessful day.

Our third and last day out, Sunday morning, we were up early and took Grandpa for his “last chance” cow elk hunt.  He would be leaving for home the next day so we had to get him on a cow elk for sure.  That morning the temperature warmed up a little to a balmy -12.  We went to the same piece of property we had been hunting the past two days.  The same herd was still near, but of course, they were still on the wrong side of the fence.

Grandpa was getting very discouraged, and he was beating himself up for missing the first morning and for not being able to get around as well as he once could.  We decided to try another piece of land where the owner had told us he had spotted a herd.

So we headed north.  The problem at this property we were heading to would be that we would not be able to just walk Grandpa a short way.  All the meadows were a ways out there with rolling hills in between.  We towed our snowmobiles behind the pick-up and headed to get Grandpa another chance at a cow.  Once we arrived at the property, we loaded him on back of the snowmobile and headed up the deep snow covered valley.  You really can not sneak up on the elk if you are on a snowmobile.

We rode up to the top of a small ridge and peered over.  Sure enough, there was a small heard of cow elk.  The excitement began.

We unloaded Grandpa and he hiked down a little just to get him a straight shot.  He sighted in on a nice cow.  I saw him hesitate.  He was worried about another miss.  Then he took a deep breath.  There was a shot.

It was a hit.

Grandpa stood there, trembling with excitement.  The smile on his face was worth the effort. Many of us take it for granted a lot of the hiking, hunting and climbing we do.  If we want to stalk an animal, we just do it.  What a challenge to get  close enough to that cow elk.  83 years old, successful and happy as can be!  Closing on the first season of the year, always remember to be thankful for everything you have, health, happiness and the ability to hunt!

Right back where you started from

“I really want to try cross-country skiing!” pleaded my daughter moments after she’d picked up her bag.  We were heading toward the airport terminal ladies’ room to change clothes so we could hike to the “M” and reward ourselves with sweet potato fries at Hob Nob on the “hip strip” in downtown Missoula.

I was game, having downhill skied throughout my lifetime, albeit not adeptly.  I’d recently announced that I would never ski that way again.  I’d been feeling my age and had sworn off virtually everything but walking, fishing, or pumping an elliptical trainer.  Balance and coordination have never been my forte, but outdoor desire burns bright. I’d struggled with acting it out all my life, and now I imagined cross-country to be less harrowing a winter endeavor for one in her, ahem, late fifties.  If I experimented with the technique—or lack thereof—with Katharine, I’d be safe from the embarrassment of flailing in front of my peers. This way, I could grow comfortably seasoned before next ski season!

Two days later we set out to rent the necessary equipment and head for the hills—Lolo Pass to be exact, since all sign of snow had evaporated, literally, from the valley, even though it was only the second week in March.  Geared up and giddy, Katharine pulled out our sack lunches as I turned onto Highway 12.

“During lunch,” I dictated, “We’ll start your list of pros and cons.”  She had brought along a yellow-papered legal pad so that we might create a list of reasons for her to either leave her current job and accept another—or not.  Everyone knows this is the best way to go about making a difficult decision where both sides of the scale appear to be balanced.  And for Katharine, a sufferer of a rather advanced case of OCD, tipping one side or the other can go on for days on end.  Her stepfather had opted to stay home and clean out the shed rather than have to listen to yet another spin on the same advantages and disadvantages he’d been privy to in conversation for the past forty-eight hours.

“I can hear her debating in my sleep!” he teased—he being the father of two adult sons whose only behavior disorder had been one too many bottles of beer or a party gone haywire while dad was away.

Sandwich gripped in left hand, Katharine deftly multi-tasked with pencil in right, tablet on lap, set to embark on mental machinations.  Back and forth, forth and back, we approached the decision from all angles, the drive flashed by, and we pulled into the parking lot not only equipped to ski, but with her firm decision to stay right where she was, a three-year veteran in the job with a plethora of advantages over any other.

“After all that,” she sighed.  “All that angst and anxiety just to figure out the best thing is to stay!  Why did I go through all that?”

“Sometimes…” I surprised myself with such sagacity…”you leave home in search of greener grasses for the sole reason that it will lead you right back to the field where you started.”

Dang, I’m good.

We stepped into our skis and I began to instruct her with what little I’d gleaned from ogling the Winter Olympics and a few YouTube videos on how to cross-country ski.  She took a few of the usual tumbles, but once underway, we glided, lunged and poled like the best of them.

The scenery was astonishing, the temperature a mild 55-60 degrees; we skied sans jackets, gloves, or even hats.  And the best part?  Ours had been the only car in the parking lot and so it follows, were the only people on the trail.  Glorious.

I’d discovered my retirement outdoor sport! I’d leave walking with Yak Traks in the dust and announce my new found passion.  After weighing the concerns about attempting it, the skill had come easily to me after all.

That’s when I stopped to study the trail map and while standing perfectly still, instantly found myself sitting, having whip lashed my neck and overextended both ankles beyond human capability.  The brief, sharp pain subsided, and blessedly, when I managed to crawl around until I could hoist myself erect, I was able to ski quite normally the two miles back to the parking lot.  Even after a nasty fall, cross-country skiing was kind to my aging physique—not to mention the ankle I’d broken just over a year ago, a feat likewise accomplished while standing utterly still.

It wasn’t long, however, before my perfect-sport bubble burst.  The ankle began to swell that evening, the sprain-pain became unbearable, and Brad had to carry me to bed, tears running down my cheeks over the loss of the delusion that I might actually be somewhat athletic in my old age.  As if I had been at any age?

“I’m never doing anything again!”  I boo-hooed, as I slapped a bag of frozen peas on the swelling.  Sometimes those greener grasses (or whiter ski trails) only lead you right back to where you started.

By morning, however, I was considering snowshoeing.  I’d read an advertisement:  “If you can walk, you can snowshoe.”

I think I can walk.  I just can’t stand still.

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