Ep. 436: This Country Life – Knives, Shotguns, and Bears. Oh My!

00:00:05
Speaker 1: Welcome to this country life.

00:00:06
Speaker 2: I’m your host, Brent Reeves from coon hunting to trotlining and just general country living.

00:00:12
Speaker 1: I want you to stay a.

00:00:13
Speaker 2: While as I share my experiences in life lessons. This country life is presented by Case Knives from the Store More Studio on Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best outdoor podcast the airways have to offer. All right, friends, grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I’ve got some stores to share. Knives, shotguns, and bears.

00:00:41
Speaker 1: Oh my.

00:00:44
Speaker 2: Man, am I excited to tell you about what’s been going on in this country life of mine. I’m going to talk about my first almost encounter with a black bear that happened with my dad a long time ago, and since then I’ve had the fortune of hunting them in two different countries. I’ve also attended every black bear bonanza there’s ever been, and my association with that most iconic creature has been nothing short of spectaculing.

00:01:15
Speaker 1: But as amazing as that’s been, the best part, by far is the people that.

00:01:20
Speaker 2: I’ve met along the way, and I’m going to tell you about one of them in particular today.

00:01:25
Speaker 1: So let’s get to it.

00:01:33
Speaker 2: The black bear bonanza has been a homecoming of sorts for me. Since the first one five years ago. What began as a modest event recognizing the return of an original Arkansas icon to the landscape, has grown into a conservation celebration’s success story like no other. Arkansas now boasts a reported population of over five thousand bears, a conservative figure by all accounts, with bears being seen where they’ve never been seen in generations. My family’s history goes back nine generations in Southeast Arkansas, and there are zero stories of bears to my knowledge in the catalog of tales that have been passed down through my family’s history, except for this one. I was in elementary school and cold hunt was my dad. One night for the new folks following this weekly amalgamation of stories and memories, Cold hunting consisted of turning a pack of hounds loose at night to listen to them bark on the scent trail of where Cody had been, and that’s it. We just sat on the tailgater and lawn chairs on the Timber company roads, or laid down on the top of the Dog Creek, passing the time looking at the stars while the dogs barked in what sounded like complete calamity to the uninitiated, but to my father, his friends, and me, it was a symphony of orchestrated music that sang the virtues of a good hounds while exposing the faults of the lesser. The dog that was in front of the pact, that barked and bald, was the lead, telling the rest of the world that they were fastest when they set the standard for the rest of fault. Not only did they need them to be fast, they needed them to have a recognizable voice and rhythm to their barking that would allow the listener to tell whose dog was who’s it was and is still a primal connection between man and dog that has been manufactured over the.

00:03:37
Speaker 1: Past fifteen thousand years.

00:03:40
Speaker 2: But in nineteen seventy seven, all I knew was it’s where my dad wanted to be, and I wanted to be with it.

00:03:49
Speaker 1: Plus there were hound dogs. What more could a boy want.

00:03:54
Speaker 2: Mister Billy Bryant, a man who’d recently become my brother Tim’s father in law and would become my turkey hunting mentor, had joined my dad and me, and we were all listening to the hounds scaled on the track south of the county road that wound its way through the country, eventually ending at the Calford Boat Ramp on the Saline River. We were parked at the Old Robbie Salm’s Place, a house place that had only the remnants of a structure there, but had been known locally as the family’s property and served as a landmark before the advent of GPS systems. Anyone could have bought it and built a house there, but regardless of the tenants, it would always be known by that name, at least to us it would be. As the dogs made their way into a thicket one hundred yards off the road, they started baying. That’s a totally different sound in bark than they give while they’re running, and they were in one spot, not moving regardless of the different tones of barking anyone that could hear. I realized the dogs were no longer chasing, but acting as if they’d caught whatever they were after, in this case a coo.

00:05:08
Speaker 1: My dad and mister Brian decided.

00:05:10
Speaker 2: Theyn’t needed to go get the dogs out of that briar patch, and as I bailed off the dog box in the back of the truck to go with them, Dad.

00:05:16
Speaker 1: Said, you can’t go on this one. That is a bad thicket, son. We’re just gonna go get the dogs and come right back. Now.

00:05:29
Speaker 2: I get it now why he didn’t want me to go. Then It was a briar thicket that a rabbit would have to tow the hatchet to get through. It was gonna be hard enough for two grown men to fight their way into much less. Little boy, I didn’t see it that way, and I was mad as a mashed cat. After he told me to stay at the truck, I watched him and mister Brian button up the jackets and put on thick leather gloves and grab flashlights and wade off into the darkness. They disappeared after only a few steps into that BlackBerry and green briar jungle, with the sound of breaking limbs and briars scratching across the cotton duck of their jackets fading into the chaotic roar of the baying hounds.

00:06:13
Speaker 1: As they got further and further away.

00:06:16
Speaker 2: From the rope, I waited anxiously for them to return, as the barking slowly decreased and dogs started to emerge one by one from that unforgiven tangle. Of nearly impenetrable undergrowth. Eventually all the dogs fell silent. Two flashlights appeared creeping towards where I sat, waiting to hear what was going on with the coat the dogs had bathed. The rest is according to Dad and mister Brian, But as they got close to where the dogs had the coyotes surrounded. The noises they heard coming from where that coyote was didn’t sound like a cowt They both knew the sound to be that of a bear. Pretty recognize eyes bell even to two fellows that had never seen a bear in the wild. The dogs started passing them through the path that they’d struggled to open up. Mister Brown looked at Dad and said, I think that’s a bear. Dad responded with I think you’re right, And they stood within a few feet of it. Even though they never had a one hundred percent clear view, they saw enough of it and heard way more than they’d bargained for to confirm their suspicions as to exactly what it was. A bear in Cleveland County, Arkansas, less than five miles as the crow flies from the ancestral home of my family, in less than one hundred yards from where I was sitting, and I didn’t get to see it.

00:07:45
Speaker 1: The forty nine years that have passed since.

00:07:48
Speaker 2: That night haven’t lessened my aggravation for not being allowed to follow them into that thicket. But the full scope of my destiny was black bears wouldn’t start and stop at the edge of briar patch.

00:08:00
Speaker 1: The year Elvistide.

00:08:15
Speaker 2: Five years ago, we gathered at a smaller venue than where we’ve been for the last three years, a testament to the event put on by the tireless volunteer work of the Arkansas Chapter of the Backcountry Hunters and Anglers. And it’s through that organization’s efforts that they bring an ever expanding group of people and families to the northwest corner of the state, and there they gather and support the stewardship, the regulatory and legislative mission of the wildlife professionals who are on the front lines for the betterment of the black bear, their habitat, and the entire ecosystem in which they thrive. It’s also where I have met some truly incredible families and individuals, people that I look forward to seeing every year. It’s on average, nine plus hours of non stop talking and visiting with people who like me, like to be around others with similar interests and passions. Chance meetings at first that have been nurtured by time into a true kinship. Some names I know by heart, and some I have to be reminded of, but all the faces, the smiles, and stories are as easily recognizable as folks I’ve.

00:09:33
Speaker 1: Known all my life.

00:09:35
Speaker 2: I’ve watched their kids grow, been introduced to fiances, met husbands, wives, grandkids, and held more babies than a hospital nursery. And I look forward to that event where, for a single day, my extended family shows up to appreciate all the things wild and share some of their time with me, at least long enough to allow me to thank them for supporting the event, all the spot to donate so much, and the.

00:10:02
Speaker 1: Ones who support this podcast.

00:10:05
Speaker 2: One fellow I met and became friends with because he happened to be the person who drove the.

00:10:09
Speaker 1: Farthest to be there.

00:10:12
Speaker 2: Three years ago, I was seeing the Alhuton contest, and after the final contestant had performed and the judges were counting up all the scores to see who would win, I had some time to fill, so I decided i’d give a prize to the person of the family that had driven the farthest, and I posed that question and several raised their hands, and folks from all over the country started shouting out where they driven from. One guy said Canada, and I thought, well, there’s a winner. Then a guy in the back of the room said Idaho. I asked the towns they were from, and a quick Google search of the distances revealed that William Robertson, Idaho, had driven several hundred miles further. I asked Weedham to come up on the stage to get his prize. In what followed was a touching moment for everyone who witnessed. William told me that he had drove down a day early and showed up at the events center to make sure he could find it the following day, and he saw all the BHA folks working to get it set up. He just walked up and volunteered went to work alongside the chapter members without hesitation. Several members had told me about what he’d done before I met him, but I didn’t have a clue he was the guy who did it until he stepped up on that stage and someone pointed it out. I told the crowd what he’d done. They gave him quite an ovation. I asked what he did for a living, and when he said he’d just gotten out of the service, the crowd went completely wild. The other thing I’ve noticed that we all share it that gathering, besides the love for wildlife, is a love for this country and the men and women who serve it. I was moved, and though it was a small gesture on my part, on top of whatever the prize was that William was for driving the furthest I reached into my pocket and I gave him a case mini trapper that Bailey and Alexis had given me for Christmas. Now, I’ve never sold a knife in my life, but I’ve given away.

00:12:15
Speaker 1: A fortune in them.

00:12:17
Speaker 2: And while that knife was special to me because of who it was from and how it represented my family’s generational love for that particular model, I felt like I should give him something that meant a lot to me to show how much I appreciated what he’d done for all of us. He graciously accepted it and walked off the stage to a thunderous applause, and we finished the contest. Later on, he came back up to me after I had left the stage and said, hey, I had to go out to my truck and get something for you. And I told him, you don’t have to give me anything, and he said, no, we’re trading knives and I want you to have this one. I held out my hand and he placed a bit which you made tactical knife in my palm. It had been taken well care of, but it obviously had been used a lot. I looked at that knife, and then looked up at him, and he said, I carried that on all five of my combat deployments, and for the first time all day at an event where all I do is talk, I couldn’t think of anything to say. To this day, I have no recollection to what I said to him. That memory is an absolute blur of emotion and pride, and having been given something that stood for the duty and sacrifice of one man, for me and all those with me and the rest of this nation. It still holds the edge right now that Will Roberts put on there. I have never used it to cut anything. It remains the only knife in my possession not made by my case family in Bradford, Pennsylvania, or handmade by an individual craftsman. It is one of my most prized possessions, not because of what it is, but for what and who it represents. I could end this story right here on my friend William Roberts, who I and most folks call Will, but his story is far from done. Before we parted ways three years ago, Will mentioned that he was a goudsmith and that would be his trade now that he was retiring from the service. He said, I’m going to build a rifle and I’m going to bring it back next year and donate it to the event as a fundraiser. Building a rifle it’s hard, and the next event was twelve months away. A lot can happen in that length of time. Plans change, priority shifting through no fault of anyone. Plans don’t always go as they’d hoped. But a year later, when I walked into the building at the Benton County Fairgrounds, there sat will Robert with one of the most beautiful bolt action rifles I’ve ever seen. I remember standing there looking at it with my friend John Pantuso, and both of us all struck by the beauty and the functionality of a true craftsman’s work. I was busy all day and didn’t get to visit long with Will as he was busy himself with the fund racher he was working for that rifle. Towards the end of the day, after we’d set our goodbyes, and almost as an afterthoughts I was leaving, Will said, Hey, if I give you a shotgun to hunt with that we could auction and raffle off next year, what would you want? Well, I kept walking toward the door and more or less answered him over my shoulder, A sixteen gage brown in a five and make sure it was made in Belgium. That was in March of twenty twenty five. Five months later, in August, I got an email from Will. It was the first communication we’d had since our abbreviated conversation as I left the fairgrounds back in March. Will like service folks do don’t really need a lot of extra talk and encouragement once they know the assignment that is going to work. The email contained pictures of a Brown and Auto five sixteen gage receiver and barrel that had some outstanding scroll work, engraving and gold inlay. Best Research puts the manufacturer date of nineteen twenty five.

00:16:35
Speaker 1: And here’s what was shaken.

00:16:37
Speaker 2: In nineteen twenty five, Mount Rushmore was dedicated f Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby was published, and folks that had a radio gathered around it to hear Calvin Coolidge get sworn in at the first presidential inauguration to be broadcast and that shotgun. It cost seventy nine dollars. Months later, I got another photo from Will that was a piece of walnut that the stocking form would be carved out of.

00:17:07
Speaker 1: It was unfinished, unstained.

00:17:10
Speaker 2: The grain was exquisite, and in my head I thought I had it mapped out how it was going to look when it was finished, but I missed.

00:17:19
Speaker 1: It by a mile. Will wouldn’t send me a picture of it completed.

00:17:26
Speaker 2: He wanted to do the big reveal when I saw it for the first time at the twenty twenty six Black Bear Bonanzer we just attended three weeks ago. During this time, I had to pitch several film ideas to meet either as my projects for this year, and that shotgun was one of them. My idea was to use it this Turkey season and next Duck season filming and tell the story with that browning being the central.

00:17:51
Speaker 1: Character of the story.

00:17:54
Speaker 2: My producer and bosses liked the idea, and a few days ago the Browning sixteen project became official. My friend David McDaniels loaded his camera full of picture taking bullets and we headed off to Bentonville, Arkansas for the twenty six offering of the Old Triple B. He was there for two purposes, one to take video of the event that will play on the med Either YouTube channel while this and all my future podcasts air. In addition to just being regular podcasts, they won’t all be of the bonanza, just relative video of the things I’m talking about, shot in direct support of the episode, or something of similar nature. They call it fireside TV. It’s different, for sure, but I did find last week’s episode enjoyable as various but relative scenarios played out in the background while I talked about whatever the subject matter it was. Anyway, David had his camera roll and when I incorked that Browning from the case, Will brought it to Arkansas in Ryan Callahan and I took turns ooh in an awe over the tremendous piece of historical art. Will and some of his professional firearm artisans created from one hundred and one year old piece of neglected metal that had been destined for the scrap pile. The entire piece had been gone through inside and out, tested and retested, clean, blued, finished and fitted, determined to be safe and in perfect work in order. In nineteen twenty five, the sixteen gage was made for shells measuring two and nine sixteenths of an inch, not two and three quarters like they are now three sixteenths of an inch. The thickness of a standard pencil was removed from inside the chamber to allow modern two and three quarter shells to fit. Process that became standard in nineteen forty seven. Now, I didn’t know Will had done that, but Tim, y’all know my brother Tim. He’s also a gunsmith and fellow brown and a five connoisseur as most of the folks. I know, the spell reeves correctly with an ar. He told me to check and see if it had been done, and then I may have to get some AMMO special made to fit it.

00:20:12
Speaker 1: Well.

00:20:13
Speaker 2: Got kind of nervous and I contacted my friend Austin Forrester, Rocky Ridge, AMMO and Bird of Arkansas, and he said they could handle whatever I needed. And I was relieved and ready to run some shells through a shotgun that was only eighty nine years younger than the state of Arkansas. Good Night, Nurse, How did I get here? This Turkey season and next duck season, me and John Moses Browning’s masterful creation and marriage of wood and metal will be all over the country hunting and femily adventures with the shotgun that will be offered up in some way to benefit the Arkansas Chapter of Backcountry Hunter’s Nighbors. Those details will be worked out and announced later, but that’s assured. When it gets nailed down, I’ll be telling you all about it, and so will.

00:21:05
Speaker 1: The great folks over at BHA.

00:21:08
Speaker 2: Someone is going to get you on a true piece of American craftsmanship while helping a true American icon the wilderness. Thank y’all so much for listening and watching along. I hope you enjoy this new video format that will kind of give you a glimpse into the places and the people.

00:21:29
Speaker 1: I get to share this country life of mine with.

00:21:32
Speaker 2: Clay Bow’s got a twelve and twenty six FIM that’ll be dropping about Utah Mountain Lions. That’s going to be good, And the next week it’s Turkey week, So until we meet next week, that’s going to do it for me. This is Brent Reeves, sign it off. Y’all be careful and