For decades he’s existed only in myth. A man of indeterminate age, wearing battered animal skins, wanders the mountains and forests of the northwest, coming to aid those most in need. Word of the man filtered from the most wild places. Hunters, loggers, and hikers, here-and-there, spoke of meeting a man who would come to be known only as The Old Trapper.
Hello Friends, If you've been paying attention to my social media musing as of late, you might have noticed a cryptic message I tweetered a few nights back: https://twitter.com/old_trapper/status/756721777187979265 Now I'm not normally one for melancholy remembrances (too practical for that, I guess) but recently I have been thinking back on
Hello Friends, If I've achieved some bit of celebrity in this world, it's as the purveyor and chief spokestrapper for the world's most delicious beef jerky, and for that I am thankful. But I'm more than just a smoked meat advocate. I'm a part-time poet, fashion trendsetter, and noted outdoorsman but more