Hunting and fishing have been a constant in my life. But when I moved from Montana to Wyoming a few years back, it came with a sudden shift. With a move came new territory – the disruption of routines and familiar ground.

At first I lamented the change. Even calculated change can be painful. But I soon realized I needed to move on.

And so began my transition from one sportsman’s paradise to another.

I now look forward to the two days a year I hunt sage grouse. Why? Because sage grouse live in gorgeous country. Because sage grouse are in season. Because my dogs don’t care that sage grouse are slow or barely edible.

Or this summer’s adjustment. Drought had made the local trout streams too warm to fish. With nothing else to do I checked out a reservoir that most people don’t even notice as they speed past on the highway. It was full of carp. The challenge and eventual pull of the golden ghost satiated my need to fish during an otherwise smoke filled inferno of a summer.

Where I live being a specialist is limiting, but if you are willing to branch out you get rewarded in surprising ways.

My brother, on the other hand, has yet to adjust. Growing up my brother hunted and fished more than most. At the age of twelve he was on the Mathews pro-staff and had a bow engraved with the moniker “Lil Killer.” Now he lives in Princeton NJ and is pursuing a PhD in political science. On the phone he recently confessed that he was desperately missing the chance to hunt or fish.

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