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John Vaillant's The Tiger (Alfred A. Knopf 2010) is a rare book in that it could appeal equally to hunters and to those opposed to hunting. Of course, I really don't know much about the latter, but as a hunter I can say it's probably the best non-fiction book about hunting I've ever read.
And the reason I think the book may hold some appeal to folks on the opposite side of the hunting argument is that Vaillant attributes human-like emotions and thought processes to the animal for which the book is named. Anti-hunters will also appreciate that the tiger turns the tables and (successfully) hunts the poacher who had been hunting him.
The Tiger at its core though is not an anti-hunting book. Virtually all of the characters in this story about a man-eating tiger on the loose in Far Eastern Russia in the late 1990's are hunters, and none of them are hunting strictly for sport. They are poverty-stricken Russians and indigenous people who rely on the game in the wilderness area known as "the taiga" for their subsistence. They are also the wildlife management personnel who try to strike a balance between protecting natural resources and allowing people to make a living.
At times, it was hard to keep in mind that I was reading about the Russia of 14 years ago and not the American frontier of 140 years ago. The Tiger reveals a fascinating aspect of Russian life that I previously knew nothing about.
It also reveals a great deal about the tiger, one of nature's super-predators. The Tiger is as much about global conservation as it is about the horror visited upon the tiny village of Sobolonye in 1997.
Whether you love hunting, hate it or are somewhere in between, you should read this book.
Dear Dad:
This Saturday would have been your 65th birthday. I didn't talk to you on your birthday last year. Jake called and left you a message, and, when you hadn't called us back in a couple days, I finally picked up the phone.
That's when you told me you were sick.
Two Fridays later, I went to your house, and, that Sunday, I watched you breathe your last breath. Yeah Dad, it's been almost a year.
I'm not going to write about this again on April 11. Instead, I'm going to celebrate your birthday today by telling you about what I've been doing with some of the things you gave me.
I mean, you didn't exactly give them to me. Most of the stuff was in your truck, Boss Blue, when I drove away from your house in it about three weeks after the memorial service.
If you were here, I'd ask you if the truck is named after this little guy or if he was named after the truck. He still rides around with me wherever I go.
So does this can of snack mix. You left some crackers in the truck too, and I ate those, but I haven't eaten any of the barnacles. Just can't bring myself to throw them away.
I haven't worn these socks either, but they're a good thing to have in the truck. You never know when you might need an extra pair of wool socks on a cold wet day.
This rain suit I have worn several times. The first was when I had to go in a crawl space the day after I got back with Boss Blue. The rainsuit is perfect for crawl spaces, which are often wet and are always dirty. I didn't go in very many more after that though, and I hope I never have to go in one again.
I've also found the rain suit to be the perfect apparel for hoisting a deer into the bed of Boss Blue. The blood washes right off.
These homemade ramps have come in handy for dragging the bigger deer into back of the truck. You didn't carry them around with you, but I found them when we cleaned out your workshop; extremely handy thing to have.
So are these ratchet straps. You had a bunch of them in the truck, and I've used them all at one time or another.
This little organizer on the passenger side visor I haven't used. I can't. It's too full of your stuff.
Here are some other things you carried, and that I still keep in the truck, just in case I ever need them.
I've even got some of your change left. I only use that in emergencies...
"I'm sorry."
That was the first thing you said to me when I got there on that Friday in April of 2010. That confirmed my longtime suspicion that you also carried with you a certain amount of pain and regret.
I've been carrying those around for the last year too. They're heavy, and I can't carry them anymore. And I know you don't need them where you are, so let's just leave them behind.
I'll see you again when my time comes Dad. Until then, I've got to travel a little lighter.
Love,
Matt
My kids often lose interest in new toys after a few days or, in some cases, a few hours. The things they'd wanted so bad for Christmas or their birthdays are put in a corner or a box in the basement or garage, only to be re-discovered months later, played with briefly and forgotten again.
This is not one of the those toys:
Brett rides his "Four Wheeler," a Power Wheels product from Fisher Price , every chance he gets. He'd ride it all day long in 20-degree weather if I'd let him. Yesterday was a lot nicer than that, so we took the four-wheeler to the playground.
Brett's four-wheeler, which runs on a re-chargable 12-volt battery, has held up well in the approximately two months that he's had it. We own another Power Wheels product, a truck that we've had for about eight years, and it still works, but it's never gotten as much use as Brett is giving the four-wheeler. He's started driving it off curbs, which worries me that he will break or bend the the axles (not to mention my concern that he will ride it into the street!)
Other than that, the only drawback to the Fisher Price Power Wheels Kawasaki KFX Ride-On is that it is in fact rear-wheel drive, rather than four-wheel drive, and tends to get stuck in wet grass even on slight slopes. Still, if you have a little kid that likes things that go and someplace for him or her to ride it, I highly recommend this product.
If you do get one, I also recommend getting an extra battery. That way, you can switch to a charged one when the other runs out of juice and avoid an untimely end to an afternoon of four-wheelin' fun. You might also avoid pushing the four-wheeler back from the playground!
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