Two stories

A Binding Gift

I often think of the many gifts that Mom and Dad have given us throughout our lives. Gifts like compassion, duty to God and country, working hard and the importance of family are some that barely scratch the surface of the list. Although Dad gave the gift of outdoors to all of us, it had a profound impact on me. That binding gift has always been the center of my life.

When we were stationed at Fort Leavenworth, Dad decided to take all of us boys into the wilds of north-central Colorado (He wanted to scout elk). To a boy of twelve years old or so, this was an impressionable adventure. We all have memories of that vacation but mine center around how stunningly beautiful the scenery was, the quality of the fishing (especially using a super-duper lure), and a cut I got on my finger while folding my knife after whittling. It was my first really good scar and I still carry it. After the trip when dad and I were alone, I told him I wanted to be a “forest ranger.” With many other adventures with dad and by the age of seventeen, I was committed to studying the art and science of forestry.

Dad was raised on a ranch in the woods of northeast Washington State. Grandpa was a rancher, logger and sawmill worker who enjoyed hunting and fishing when he could. Hunting and fishing were also necessary to feed the family at times. I remember when I told my grandfather that I was studying wildlife management as part of my curriculum, he mis- understood me to mean that I was studying to be a game warden and remarked, “We used to shoot at their heels in the thirties.”

Altogether, this work and play in the outdoors is a “way of life.” This way of life is culturally embedded in our family, helps define our roots, and for me, is the essence of who I am. So, Dad’s gift also led me into our family’s cultural heritage and in turn, deepened family bonds when I went logging with Uncle Fred in mid-seventies. That logging experience gave me an edge over my classmates at WSU and was the catalyst that launched my 33-year career as a professional forester.

Karen and I have passed along all of the gifts from our parents to the next generation, too. We all share the binding gift of the outdoors and enjoy a quality of life in Montana that is hard to beat. Just like dad, we find calm, peace and clarity in the wild.

My conversations with dad always had a habit of coming around to things like calibers, hunting and fishing. We spent a lot of time over the years talking about our life-long adventures together. Recently, when we were having a discussion about hunting elk, he looked at me and said, “Elk hunting is the reason that you live here, isn’t it?” I told him that it was a major reason that I lived in Montana and that I blamed my “elkaholism” on him. He just smiled.

Thanks for many gifts that you and mom have given us, Dad, but a special thanks to you for the gift of the great outdoors.

Your loving son, hunting buddy, fishing buddy and best friend, Dennis.

The Northern Hemisphere Twist

Some fisherman tend to be analytical – at least the good ones. Dad was a good fisherman.

During the late seventies when home on a break from college, dad and I went blackmouth (young King Salmon) fishing in Puget Sound down by the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. We had the best luck using medium-sized, frozen herring that trailed behind a “Deep Six” (by Luhr-Jensen). The leader was typically 20lb test, schnelled, and about four to six feet long with a double hook arrangement on the business end.

Dad showed me how to thread the herring when he was baiting his line. He watched over his shoulder while I was threading mine, let me lower it in the water, and then told me that I had done it all wrong. He said, “Where do you think we are fishing, south of the Equator”? I was puzzled. Wouldn’t you be?

I lifted, twisted and affixed the herring’s tail so that the bait turned through the salt water to the left, you see.

He told me that after much deliberation, he decided that, “A herring should spin through the saltwater to the right in the northern hemisphere. Haven’t you heard of the Coriolis force?”

From Webster’s: an apparent force that as a result of the earth’s rotation deflects moving objects (as projectiles or air currents) to the right in the northern hemisphere and to the left in the southern hemisphere.

We started trolling and Dad gave me a chance to digest this for a while before saying with a sideways smile on his face, “I call that the Northern Hemisphere Twist, Den. Guess which room in the house I was in when I thought of that one.”

He caught a 15-pound blackmouth that day. I got skunked. Dad was a good fisherman.

— Dennis Davaz, Livingston, Mont.