Open season on turkeys

I stopped in at the Colville National Forest offices last week to pick up some maps and find out whether I needed permits or passes for walking in the woods or paddling the local waters various. The helpful ranger on duty gave me an incredible pile of motor vehicle use maps, the self same ones the police use, detailing exactly which roads are legitimate to drive on. He also told me I wouldn't need further permits and passes since I already hold the joint agency National Parks Pass. Launching a kayak is free. Yes I questioned him on that and he confirmed it.

I thanked him for the (free) motor vehicle use maps, but let on that I was thinking more of walking than driving all over the forests. That's when he told me that I had better watch out because the turkey season opened this weekend.

I didn't think that much of it at the time, but next day, being a Saturday I headed out on the highway with a passenger seat full of maps, in search of forests to explore. I stopped first for petrol at the Spoko-fuel station, run by the Spokane tribe of Indians. Indian petrol is always way cheaper than the other fuel stations. I am lucky that, even though the winding snake town isn't technically on a rez, the local tribe run a casino and fuel station on the outskirts of town.

At the petrol station, I noticed an inordinate number of trucks daubed in dirty brown and smudgy green paint. And men in the same. Their shiny new, still package-creased garments were not military cammo but that special kind of cammo one finds in sports shops: a blurry mix of brown forest green and tan with black splashes for good measure. They were getting packages of fried chicken and other highly processed, highly salted, high fat delights from the NDN fast food joint at the petrol station. To wash these down they stocked up on several cans apiece of fizzy sweet carbonated, caffienated drinks. And donuts. Others were smoking in groups outside, looking like men deep in planning serious manoeuvres of great import. Since there were no hash browns on offer, I bought myself a breakfast of potato wedges (called for some unknown reason Jo Jo's) and sat at a table to watch the activity.

I realised I was looking at turkey hunters. Considerable numbers of them. At that point, I decided it would probably be wiser to take myself off somewhere remote and quiet and far away from turkey habitat. It seemed it would be asking for trouble to go stumbling around in the public land forests all by myself on foot when a bunch of over caffeinated, over sugared, trigger-happy, starved for blood after a long winter of abstinence from killing, turkey hunters in brand new turkey hunting gear were released upon the unsuspecting wilds of the area.I put aside my brand new forestry maps and took another day long road trip through the Spokane Indian reservation, exploring winding back roads where wild flowers bloomed brilliant and no men in cammo pointed guns at me.The day turned, at times, into a crash course in the local flora. What better timing than spring to familiarize myself with the local beauties. I discovered whole hill slopes of yellow Arrow Leaf Balsamroot, the nodding pink heads of the aptly named Bonneville Desert Shooting Stars, Ballhead Waterleaf in palest mauve, Yellow Bells, blue Lupines and a myriad more blossoms suddenly there in what was, a few weeks ago, dead frozen land. Like a desert anywhere after rain, the plants here waste no time getting down to the work of blooming and seeding when the thaw comes. There isn't much time. The season is short and next major moisture is going to be next winter. Summers, though short, are intense here apparently, with high temperatures and very little precipitation.I found some beautiful beaches and camp sites on the shores of Lake Roosevelt, administered by the Spokane Tribe, and another boat launch at Hunters, before crossing once more on the Gifford-Inchelium Columbian Princess ferry boat, to photograph the murals on the Inchelium Community Centre.

Reversing my drive of the day before, I returned via Colville just after dark and realised that a lot of the hotels, motels and restaurants had put up signs outside welcoming the turkey hunters. The hunting season is really big in these parts.

I only heard two gunshots in the distance all day. By good luck and not real good management, I managed to avoid a potentially catastrophic collision on opening day of the turkey hunting season. Surely in all this wild ness, this wilderness in local language, this back county which covers most of the region I am now living in, there is room enough for all of us.