A Texas Boy in Grizzly Country

LISTEN: (4 Min, 58 Sec)

 

IT FELT LIKE PARADISE. The little boy who grew up seeing pictures of men fly fishing in Montana streams in Sports Afield, Field & Stream and Outdoor Life was doing it as a man. Rainbow trout were biting and hitting a dry fly fished in the Cherry River fishing access area just outside of Bozeman, MT.

I had just caught a nice rainbow that jumped as if it were a sailfish, when I heard grunting in the tall grass behind me.

I was on the stream’s edge, down a rock embankment that was about 10 feet above me at a distance of 25 yards or so. The grass was tall leading to this spot and as I gently turned my head, I saw movement.

Whatever was in the bushes grunting was black with grizzled grey.

Was it a bear? Perhaps even a grizzly?

This particular location was out of the range of common grizzly sightings, but it was still technically in their range and black bears were certainly in the area.

I decided not to do anything out of the ordinary and to keep casting.

I heard the grunt again, but this time a single grunt, muffled by increasing winds blowing from the mountains in front of me.

I had just arrived from a delayed flight and hadn’t yet bought bear spray. I had no way to carry a sidearm in this location and the stream wasn’t deep enough to retreat into and drift down in case it was a bear.

It’s not like they can’t swim.

Suddenly I hear the lapping of water.

Almost afraid to look, I turned my head to the right and there stood a poodle. It was one of those big, standard poodles.

This old poodle was black with grizzled grey and was grunting as it drank. It sounded as if it had a really bad cold.

I was never so relieved to see a poodle in my life.

I walked down and gave it a pat on the head and about that time, I heard someone hollering, “Suzie! Suzie! Come here!”

I walked up the bank and saw a man with desperation in his eyes.

“Are you looking for a poodle,” I asked.

“Yes sir. She got away from me, and I was concerned a bear or mountain lion might have gotten her.”

“No, she’s down at the stream drinking,” I replied.

Suzie saw her owner and ran to him, grunting all the way.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the poodle and myself.

Here I was in Montana and my first close encounter was with a poodle.

Ha!

The next morning, I found myself in the incredible Lamar Valley of Yellowstone National Park.

As the sun rose, the silhouettes of American buffalo (bison) dotted the horizon.

Truly wild bison are a rare commodity and seeing them in person is a powerful experience when considering their nearly extinct status 120 years ago.

While slowly driving through this incredible setting, a couple of beautiful pronghorn caught my attention.

I pulled over to take some photos.

Another gentleman had just stopped to do the same and as we adjusted our lenses, his wife shouted from their truck.

“Bison!”

Turning around, we found ourselves nearly eye to eye with a massive bull bison.

And he looked angry.

Really angry.

The whites of his eyes showed as he grunted at the distance of about 15 feet which means we were about 1/2 second away from 1,500 pounds of fury.

We gently backed up and then a couple of other bison that just crossed the road caught his attention.

He immediately ran out and slammed into one of them. The other, younger bull struck back but then ran off leaving the big bull on its own.

He then proceeded to roll in the dirt, grunt and buck up and down like a bronco.

Yes, this was the same bison that walked right up to us a few seconds earlier.

Bison hurt more people in Yellowstone than any other animal.

People look at them as large cattle from the dairy farm because they are unafraid of people in the park.

It’s called confidence people, not docility.

I’m well aware of bison dangers and in fact avoided fishing in what looked to be an incredible spot in the Lamar Valley due to bison presence. Not only were there big bulls but lots of babies there.

Being between a momma bison, a calf and a fishing hole is not a good idea.

I fished elsewhere and did quite well.

This trip not only brought me information but clarity. Sometimes only being in wild places does that for me. I’m just glad I’m writing a column about my bison encounter instead of being the subject of a story someone else wrote.

“Wildlife Journalist Attacked by Bison” is not a headline I want to read any time soon.

The phenomenal trip would also include bighorn sheep, wolf packs an actual bear sighting, and a lot of trout.

But the big takeaway was when you’re in the wild, be prepared for anything, even an old, coughing poodle.

•  •  •

 

Cal’s Last Column

LISTEN: (5 Min, 7 Sec)

 

CALIXTO GONZALES WAS a valuable contributor to Texas Fish & Game for many years.

Starting off writing Hot Spots reports for the Lower Coast, former Editor-In-Chief Don Zaidle saw his talent and quickly started having him do features.

When I came on as Executive Editor, Cal was the first and only choice to replace me as Saltwater Editor. He was real. He was unique and he had heart. 

Miles and miles of it in fact.

The first I heard of Cal was when a Louisiana guide service had some writers from Texas and Louisiana over to a lodge in Johnson Bayou, La to gather content. I had been assigned to go do a destination piece in Arkansas for Texas Fish & Game, so I had to decline the invite.

A friend of mine called after the event and said, “Who in the heck is this Calixto Gonzales guy? It was super tough fishing. He caught the only big trout that we could use for photo purposes and released it.”

That intrigued me.

I later learned it was simple. He believed in catch-and-release of truly big trout. He was doing what Cal often did-living out his beliefs despite the consequences.

Cal and I bonded over professional wrestling. We both loved it our entire lives. When he told me he used to drive “Dirty” Dick Murdock around during his latter years of wrestling in Texas, his cool factor went way up.

Cal and I also bonded over this: No one would have picked us to make it in the outdoors business or at least few would have.

Here was me the long-haired guy in metal bands and Cal the red-headed Hispanic dude with a snarky sense of humor and wit that went over most people’s heads. But we both did, and we both ended up in Texas Fish & Game which we talked about being so special to us frequently.

At some point Cal started missing deadlines. It happens. It’s happened to me. But in Cal’s case, it was a lot.

And it was always some wild explanation of some sort of health calamity and some of them sounded maybe too wild to be true. I’ll be honest and say at one point I thought Cal might have some real health issues, but maybe he was exaggerating.

I was unfortunately very wrong.

Cal had many health issues and left behind a loving family during the peak of the covid pandemic. He passed away in a Houston hospital at a time none of us could go see him.

I had spoken with Cal about six months before the pandemic and he was doing good then. But he asked me then, “Hey pal, if I pass away could you write my last column?”

A tear rolled down my cheek and I said, “Of course my friend. It would be an honor but it’s an honor I hope to never do. I want you to be with us as long as we exist at Texas Fish & Game.”

When Cal passed, I knew in my gut it would take a long time for me to write the column. I tried immediately and then deleted the file. It didn’t honor Cal correctly. TF&G owners Roy and Ardia Neves and I as well as few contributors wrote a tribute, but I couldn’t get the column done.

It wasn’t the right time.

He transcend outdoors media. As an educator he put deep love and mentorship into young people. As a man, he fought hard for what he believed in. And as a friend, he always put a big smile on my face like when me, Cal and Dustin Warncke did one of Dustin’s podcasts together. 

I hadn’t laughed that hard in years.

This will officially be Cal’s last column.

I finally found a way to give Cal a send-off worthy of his awesomeness and it was inspired by a little boy I met in Wyoming. 

The little boy lost his mother, has no father in his life and has had some issues fitting in with people. He was smart. He was funny and he so loves the great outdoors.

He reminded me of some of the kids Cal would talk about that he had helped. He always wanted the poor underdog to enjoy the great outdoors as much as the “in crowd’.

So, in Cal’s honor, I sent him a rod and reel combo.

And through the first September edition of the Texas Fish & Game e-newsletter, we will post a story asking for kids that might be dealing with special challenges.

We will give away five rod and reel combos in honor of Calixto Gonzalez-my friend and a friend to Texas Fish & Game.

Our very last conversation ended up being about our mutual faith in Christ, so I know Cal is in a truly better place. I wish he was here with us, and I wish his column still ran on our pages.

But I am glad I can finally write Cal’s last column and make it a vehicle to help those less fortunate connect to fishing.

Cal might’ve wanted us to throw in some lucha libre masks to the kids too, but I know he would have been overjoyed to see that his legacy still carries on powerfully.

Cal, I miss you buddy.

The greatest honor I have ever been asked to do in my career Is writing your last column.

I love you and so do a whole lot of other people. 

 

Email Chester Moore at cmoore@fishgame.com