Despite a long stretch of rainy, wet weather that put a damper on fun-in-the-sun activities for a few weeks in June, all in all it has been a great spring and summer. As a budding outdoor columnist, I’m always thinking of the next story, how-to piece, theme or thought-provoking topic that might appeal to readers, capture their attention and hold onto it long enough for them to read on.
As outdoorsmen and outdoorswomen, it’s important to share our experiences, thoughts and perspectives in order to better serve not only ourselves but our entire outdoor community. The opportunity and ability to connect with others through keystrokes, the internet and print has impacted me deeply and offered a priceless additional dimension to my outdoor world.
There’s been no shortage of fodder for columns the last few months, and as I reflect back on all of them, it’s hard not to smile. There was a Moose River canoe fishing trip where I caught hungry togue and salmon. I talked about the high price of new turkey hunting gear and felt like a kid again with an impromptu pumpkinseed sunfish catch and cook.
I discussed who owns the water, proper fishing etiquette and approached keeping or releasing fish from a philosophical angle. There was even a hook in my thumb and a free boat! Recently however, as the air conditioner hummed in the background of a hot late July, I found myself without direction, idealess and puzzled.
I started three different columns, but they all seemed to be lacking in one way or another. Frustrated, I had a conversation with my girlfriend, Emily, regarding the matter and it turned out to be exactly what I needed.
I expressed my resolve to provide readers with something of greater value in my next column: something more resonating than a fishing story, talking point or how to set up a bear bait. Certainly, those topics all hold their worth and I look forward to many more of them, but they just wouldn’t do at the moment.
Candidly, I outlined my passion for the outdoors, what it means to me and how sharing it with others through writing has become such a meaningful part of my life. And just like that, there it was.
It’s easy at times to become narrowly focused on the end game while ignoring the far-off scenery, little bits and pieces of the whole, the journey and all the wonderful things that brought us there. Fishing isn’t only about catching fish, just as hunting isn’t only about killing an animal. A canoe trip isn’t about getting to the takeout point, and for me writing an outdoor column isn’t just about getting something to the editors by a deadline.
I find great joy and satisfaction in developing an idea, fully immersing myself in it, imagining exactly what I want it to look like, what I want it to say and how I want it to be said, and then carefully, as best I can, putting it into words meant for others. It’s all very intentional, and when I get to see the published final product, emotions often are mixed.
While it’s exhilarating to see an idea finally realized and distributed to the masses, there’s always a bit of trepidation. Will people like it? Will they respect it, appreciate it or find value in it? What if it isn’t well-received or the intended message is not articulated well enough? At the end of the day, though, none of that really matters. What matters to me above all else is that I’m able to share the outdoors with others in a unique and special way.
The outdoors has given me so much. Growing up, wages earned from my father’s position in the Maine Warden Service put food on our table, a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. When I was old enough, I took to the woods and waters any chance I got, learning at an early age how important it was to remain intimately connected to the natural world.
I’ve learned some of life’s most valuable lessons while hunting, fishing, hiking, camping and boating. In the outdoors, I’ve honed important attributes like respect, patience, endurance, compassion and ethics. As an adult, I was fortunate to spend several years as a Maine Game Warden, where I had some of the most amazing experiences of my life. Moreover, I’ve always appreciated the outdoor world as an arena where I can find peace, quiet, enjoyment and a comforting entity to turn to during difficult times.
When thinking about the outdoors, many of us tend to imagine a cold November morning in a deer stand, turkeys gobbling just before daylight or maybe watching five tip-ups through the fogged windows of a warm ice shack. And though I’ll take all of those any day, I now often find myself just as content seated here at my kitchen table in front of a laptop computer, listening to the rhythmic clicking of keys as the letters form words, sentences and paragraphs. I appreciate and enjoy every moment of it for what it is — an opportunity to be a better part of something bigger than me.
