I just finished Tony Nester’s new book The Modern Hunter-Gatherer; A Practical Guide To Living Off The Land. If you don’t like reading book reviews, here’s the abbreviated version; It’s great, get a copy, read it twice. As the title suggests, it’s a primer for those looking to supplement their diet with wild [...]
Post from: The Jack Mountain Bushcraft Blog
Book Review: The Modern Hunter-Gatherer by Tony Nester

You know you'll see the darnedest things when you don't have a camera. Today while out and about I spotted a female lynx crossing the trail with a young kitten in tow. I stopped to watch as sightings of these reclusive creatures are unusual- particularly in daylight. In my years in Alaska, I've only seen a relative handful compared to other creatures I've observed. As I watched these thoughtful predators, the mother lynx turned and looked behind her and three more kittens (likely in the 6 month range) emerged from the brush and followed her across the trail into the dense brush on the other side. A total of 1 large female and 4 half grown kittens.
I pondered a moment about the sighting because lynx are normally reclusive in the extreme and tend to avoid humans and I was very close to my home. The skies had cleared back the last couple of nights and the temperatures had plummeted to the -30F's. I had -36F on the thermometer yesterday morning and I can only guess that the deep cold has got the creatures moving during warmer daylight hours hunting hares and grouse during the "heat" of the day. Whatever the reason the lynx family was certainly an unexpected treat.
Note: the photo is a file photo from Wikipedia. Well, because I did not have a camera. Dooh!

The movement of air, born of Earth's perpetual cycles of heating and cooling, is what we know and experience as Wind. This invisible force of Nature is globally present and its effects on our planet are both subtle and profound. On the largest scale, wind directly affects climate and weather; the Gulf Stream, that Atlantic "river" of warm water flowing from the Caribbean to northern Europe, is set into motion by wind action. One of the results of this is that climate patterns on much of the Continent (the Mediterranean, British Isles, etc.) are ridiculously mild, especially given their northern latitudes. Powerful Trade Winds that scour the great deserts of Africa send enormous quantities of particulate westward, across the Atlantic which can
block insolation from the sun, sometimes cooling areas in North America.
Recent studies strongly suggest that bacteria, which are transported into the atmosphere by Earth's winds, serve as the bulk of nucleation (condensation) sites for precipitation; that is, about 80% of the material that must be present for it to rain or snow anywhere on the planet is biological, and this stuff can only get where it needs to be by the grace of wind. On the Rocky Mountain Front, the effects of wind are always at hand. It, along with fire and precipitation, is the most influential force of change on the landscape. For much of the year, as air masses move from west to east, over the mountains and toward the prairie, they are funneled through our canyons. When a gas or liquid is forced through a constriction, it rapidly accelerates. This is called the
Venturi effect and it is pronounced along the Front.
Where it is not anchored by grasses or other vegetation, wind will move significant quantities of soil across the land. A particle will travel until it finds a protected area such as a gully or the lee side of a hill and come to rest. The same thing happens with snow; the rare winter visitor will notice that a uniform blanket of snowfall doesn't stick around for very long on the prairie. (And this is a major boon for grazing animals who need exposed grasslands to survive.) Once wind becomes sustained, the white stuff will blow about and form very large drifts, often in the same locations where soil accumulates. These soil and snow deposition zones are important ecologically, since deeper soils and extra water over time translates in to more lush vegetation and therefore greater species diversity.
Plants and animals that live here must adapt to our frequent and often intense winds. A windy environment is very hard on native flora. The desiccating effects of wind can create near-desert conditions and cause outright physical damage to plants. Probably the most iconic example of a wind-adapted species on the Front is the Limber Pine (Pinus flexilis), for which the Pine Butte Swamp Preserve is named. This tree pumps a great deal of resin into its extremities, which gives it exceptional pliability. Since the needle-bearing limbs are the photosynthetic engine of the organism, it is critical that they be able to bend (and not break) when the gusts come. We should also note that it is the persistent, invisible hand of the wind that sculpts Limber Pine into the lovely, Bonsai-form it takes in these parts. While wind can be a hindrance to plant growth, it can also assure the continuity of many species. There may be hundreds of plants in the Northern Rockies which have adapted their pollen and seed dispersal strategies with the wind; an incalculable vector for genetic exchange and dissemination for sure.
The effects of high wind on fauna is noticeable; typically we are not able to observe much wildlife on a windy day, probably because it negatively affects the senses of hearing and smell which animals rely upon far more than we do. Usually the larger creatures (bears, elk, moose, deer) stay bedded down or otherwise remain close to cover on windy days. People too, have a general disdain for wind past a certain threshold. For the hunter, wind can camouflage the sounds one might make crawling through brush, but it can also make it impossible to hear the object of one's pursuit. Wind has played a significant role in human culture and civilization; it has affected the outcome of wars, powered mills, driven
wildland fires and enabled the exploration of the world by sea. Today, Montana is witnessing a huge push to develop our wind resources for energy. While wind power will play an important role in the shift away from
dependence on fossil fuels, if done improperly, it could have significant ecological impacts to
grasslands, rare birds and bats.
Traditional Blackfeet, who have a unique, deep-time relationship with
Miistakis, (The Backbone of the World-aka: The Rocky Mountain Front) consider it the dwelling place of Wind Maker. And if you've ever spent any time here outside of summer, you understand why. It was a fundamental force of Nature that constantly shaped the land and its people. Of course, it still is. Many of us who live here consider the wind to be something of a guardian of this place; an omnipresent factor that keeps the human population sustainably low. We can physically feel this ethereal force that seems both real and elusive. Depending on the context, it can be
perceived as destructively "bad" (as in a
major storm) or mercifully "good" (a cool breeze on a hot day). In this way and by the fact that wind possesses both a predictable and unpredictable nature, it does seem to be somehow alive. People have understood wind to be a harbinger of change, to represent freedom or provoke madness, and as embodying a sense of impermanence. I think it is no accident that in the past Wind, in the form of breath, was universally considered as the basic animating
principal of Life itself; remember, the term for "breath" in Latin translates literally as
spirit.
The dawn today showed up cold and clear. The thermometer on the back deck read a robust -15F but the sky was a brilliant blue and the sun broke the horizon (admittedly at 10am...) and gave the frozen world a cheery pastel pink and orange glow. The air had a crystal clear and rarefied quality I've only experienced during Interior winters when you can feel your breath steaming in your throat even prior to exhale. The sun, now in its winters arc that only climbs halfway to apex, would soon be on its descent to the horizon. The day however beautiful would be brief.
I thought for a moment and quickly concocted some rather obtuse chore that had to be done in the back country centering around a buddy's fledgling trap line and within a few moments I was astride the machine and breaking trail on the 10" of fresh snow we had received over the last two days. I left the pup lounging in his kennel; although normally keen to go, he had vomited up the neighbor's cell phone the day prior and had felt poorly ever since. I left the beast sleeping quietly and zipped out of the drive- his penance for rooting out a misplaced cell phone and ensuring it never returned to service.
I could feel the cold air invading my face mask, pushing its way through the fibers of the fabric and attacking my moisture laden mouth and chin. I burrowed my head further down in the tunnel of my parka and eased back on the throttle to reduce the breeze. The trees held the wonderful postcard look of the winter trail- every branch and leaf crystallized and covered in rime or snow. The world looked absolutely still but it wasn't.
I let off the throttle and let the machine slow to a stop and I dismounted to check some fresh tracks in the snow that had been paralleling the trail and crossed it several times. I looked at the loping gait- almost like a North American jackal, it could only be a coyote. I looked up and not 50 yards ahead on the trail the coyote leaped from the brush into the trail and gave me a long look back over his shoulder without breaking stride as he steadily pulled away. He calmly broke right and almost noiselessly vanished in the brush and the forest beyond.
I maneuvered the sled around a few more twists and turns and hung a hard left to take me on the upper bluff trail. A simple bluff about 200 feet high jutted up from the lowland morass and dominated the local landscape. I planned to sit up there for a short while and scan with binoculars for any more creatures roaming the countryside. As I'm wont to do, my attention shifted from the lower expanse below to the forested area behind me. I could smell a peculiar odor that I had only recently became acquainted with- Labrador tea.
I quickly located a small patch of the coniferous plant and threw a couple of old dried rose hips I also found in the pot for good measure. I had the brew boiled up in a few moments on my portable stove. A shot of sugar to make the potent tea palatable and I was counting my blessings. To be here on the bluff, in the frozen sunshine with a cup of steaming tea while I watched the lone coyote lope his way unconcernedly along the packed snow machine trail was a wonderful moment and for a short moment at least all was right with the world.
Well at least my small, beautiful and unforgiving corner of it anyway.
More to come.
Here are a few pictures from a walk on the weekend: Hope you had a nice weekend, Mungo Are you subscribed to the Mungo Says Bah! RSS feed yet? If not - you know...
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