Everything changes, including me

I’m not a guy who dwells on the good old days.

Everything changes.

Including me.

But really, it‘s hard to ignore. Does everything have to change for the worse?

Bitter cold combined with drought eliminated almost all of my pond fishing hot spots in recent years. Restocking might bring them back, but not necessarily in time for me to ever fish there again.

Fishing the Yellowstone River in the park – a rigorous hike in and out -- used to be a 40-fish-a-day type of place. Now I’m lucky to catch a fish there. It’s nothing like it was the first time I fished there more than 50 years ago.

But while I expect things to change over half a century, the changes I’m most aware of are more recent.

Attendance at the two leks where I watch grouse dance in the spring has fallen precipitously over the last five years. There were 15 sage grouse on their lek this spring compared to 45 last year. The sharptail lek I always check has apparently been abandoned.

The Bowdoin National Wildlife Refuge used to offer the best public land pheasant hunting in Montana. Extra game wardens would be brought in to work the pheasant season opener there. Now, thanks in large part to an effort at the refuge to eliminate habitat, the place supports only a fraction of the birds it once did.

My elk hunting spots outside Yellowstone Park suffered a similar fate following the reintroduction of wolves.

Fishing on Nelson Reservoir was phenomenal when we moved here 16 years ago. It hasn’t been as good since.

Same with Fort Peck. Fishing has dropped off since we bought a cabin there seven years ago.

I realize the common denominator in all these instances is me. I’ve certainly harvested my share of fish and game, but I’m simply a witness, not the culprit.

Last week I visited a spot on Fort Peck Lake where I hunt pheasants. A sheltered cove with cottonwoods lining the shore, and willows and Russian olives providing cover, it was always good for a bird or two.

Now, however, with the lake drawn down, there is a half mile of beach between the trees and the water. High winds this spring blew sand into the trees where it lies like drifted snow.

Unfortunately it won’t melt, and there’s no longer any ground cover. Scratch another hunting spot off the list.

I’m beginning to long for the good old days.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]