At the time this is printed and circulated, most of you will have already had your turkey bird dinner on Thanksgiving and maybe even had the obligatory nap afterwards. And as written about in the last column, Ol’ Dutch and Miss Trixie will be with my son Bub’s and his family for the celebration and eats. 

President Donald Trump’s first term was a disaster for America’s public lands. While the prospects for his second term are even more bleak, Westerners across the political spectrum — even those who voted for Trump — stand ready to oppose attempts to sell off America’s public lands to the highest bidder. 

The cold early winter day dawned a few hours ago and I find myself still at the kitchen table sipping coffee and scrolling through Facebook. With my rear end finally getting numb enough to force a move, I slowly rise from the chair, finally ready to start the day's first task. Dressed in my light winter gear I jump in the pick-up and drive the short quarter mile to the local Christmas tree lot and park off to the side. The fenced area houses 50 or so trees lying on the ground, wrapped tightly in nets just waiting to snap open and display their true beauty. The lucky ones have already been placed in a metal stand and confidently stretch their limbs to show just how many ornaments they can hold. I select the best one I can find and only minutes after arrival, I jump back in the truck and... 

I recall growing up that all the old people would say that time goes faster the older you get. And while it actually does not speed up, it sure seems like time flies as a person ages. This past year seems to be a true example of that as it came and went like a Banshee. And having said that, one might surely ask “Ol’ Dutch. What in the world is a Banshee?” 

Last weekend we set our clocks back one hour to officially end what is known as Daylight Savings Time (DST.) Which in name alone is the silliest thing a person could ever say as no matter how you tally up the hours in a day, you can't save any for future use.  A Native American when told about DST said, “only a white man can believe that if you cut a foot off the top of a blanket and sew it on the bottom that you would be left with a longer blanket.” And he was exactly right as days are just 24 hours long no matter how you slice it or dice it. 

I am not sure who sets up the high school class reunions. There is one thing for sure, though, you can never tell what the agenda for the weekend will be or what time of year they will choose to hold such gatherings. Ol’ Dutch has been to one reunion so far and I am thinking I will go to my 50th just to see who is still alive and kicking.  

This summer, the Biden administration offered Wyoming $35 million to help the state plug and clean up abandoned oil and gas wells. When Wyoming turned down the cash, it seemed hard to believe. It could cost the state more than twice that amount to reclaim its 1,000 or so defunct wells that remain unplugged. Economists have also warned that market forces will continue to diminish the state’s main revenue source — severance taxes on fossil fuels.  

Voters from Congressional District 3 will elect our representative to the University of Colorado Board of Regents this November.

I am against hunting mountain lions in Colorado. Today, I join many wildlife professionals and hunters who support Colorado’s Proposition 127—Cats Aren’t Trophies, on the ballot this November.  I’ve never been much for so-called “trophy hunting,” especially when the animals are chased to exhaustion by commercial outfitters using dogs and GPS tracking. Once these lions are perched helplessly in a tree, they are shot by a so-called “hunter.” 

The past weeks have been a real hardship on Ol’ Dutch. What with the loss of Cooper the Yorkie, and then my father it's been hard. Neither was unexpected but somehow that does not make it any easier. 

In 1998, when I was in fourth grade, I joined a class field trip to Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado. But when we got to Cortez, the road was barricaded. Hours earlier, three men had stolen a water-tanker truck and killed a police officer before fleeing into the desert. 

Ol’ Dutch has spent a lot of time lately up in the forests in pursuit of the elusive elk. In doing so, I have been able to see a lot of animals in their everyday activities. I love watching them as they go about their daily lives not knowing that I am hiding a few feet away from them.

Because I spent a week in Kansas helping to take care of my Dad, I missed out on the first week of archery elk season. Before he passed away, one of the last things he said was, “Go home so you can hunt.” 

The Colorado Trail, an iconic 567-mile high-elevation trail that crosses the Rockies, owes its existence largely to Gudy Gaskill, a charismatic, six-foot-tall woman who could make tough things seem easy. 

It seems of late that I have not had the best of news to write what with losing my faithful companion Cooper The Dog.  And this week is no exception to that kind of news. With your permission, though, I will take this time to write something about my Dad who is soon going onto his heavenly reward.  

Biologist Diane K. Boyd has had a front-row seat to 40 years of wolf recovery in the West, but her new memoir reveals that entanglements with humans in Montana were often tougher than dealing with the four-legged predators. 

It’s been a wonderfully wet and green summer here in the San Luis Valley. I’m hearing regularly these days that, even in the north end of the valley, “it’s as green as I can …

Looking back over my lifetime, I can recall some first dates I’ve had, and I must admit that I really failed in selecting what to do. If you look online there are always suggestions of things to do on a first date and all of them seem to require a substantial outlay of cash.  As a reader of this column, you know that Ol’ Dutch has that old Scottish blood that makes us tighter than bark on a tree, and my first dates suffered because of it.  

More frequent wildfires in the West can turn hiking through beautiful, high-elevation country into a dangerous game for hikers. In July, seven friends from Idaho, Colorado, Washington and Montana took off for a week of backpacking in southwestern Montana. Everything went off without a hitch their first night. A rainstorm passed through but it wasn’t a big deal. 

It is with tremendous sadness that I must tell you that my dearest friend and companion, Mr. Cooper, has passed to the great beyond. He was my constant companion and a friend like no other, so my missing him is the greatest understatement of the century.