Happy Birthday to me

It's difficult to believe I've been drifting through this outdoor life for so long. My life has truly been blessed with not much money but the opportunity to choose my life style, and live life (within reason) on my own terms.

This photo of George & a whitetail buck taken in Texas & a ghostly image of him.

There has been heartbreak, deaths (including my father, mother and twin brother plus both sets of grandparents), and the death of one son at childbirth, and through it all, an overwhelming love for fishing and hunting has helped rule my life. I've fought long and hard for our natural resources, and that hasn't always been an easy task although it has been, for the most part, a thankless one.

My writing career began 43 years ago with a sale to Sports Afield magazine on my first try, and my first six free-lance sales were easy. Then it became much more difficult because I'd used up my best story ideas.

It took time, but learning to recognize good stories, knowing how to edit my copy, and how to out-work other writers became my stock in trade. I worked solo from 1967 to 1976, and when my wife Kay and I married in 1977, my income doubled the first year because of her help.

We traveled six months a year (May through October), and wrote magazine copy and outdoor books the other six. The output of magazine copy was prodigious, and unparalleled by most outdoor writers. I once wrote nearly 400 full-length magazine articles and three full-length books each year for two years in a row. I could see potential magazine articles that other writers couldn't see, and capitalized on it.

For years, a near-photographic memory allowed me to remember what had been published each month in several different magazines over a five-year period. I knew when a certain type of article was needed by a magazine, and I'd propose the article a year in advance.

Many magazines considered me a "hole-filler," a person who could write a feature-length article, based on my experiences, on demand. If Joe Blow wrote a poor story, or didn't meet the deadline, they came to me and I filled their hole. Besides, such stories always paid more money.

More than 7,300 published articles ran in more than 300 different magazines.

Our travels crisscrossed North America. We'd be in Quebec one week, and on the Kentucky-Tennessee border the next week. Get home, shower and wash clothes, and then we'd be off on another adventure. I've been from Mexico to Baffin and Victoria islands in Canada's Northwest Territories, and from Hawaii east to North and South Carolina and northeast to Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont  and Pennsylvania.

We've suffered through miserable trips where the fishing or hunting didn't pay off, been lied to by guides, left up on an Idaho mountain by an idiot guide, had guides who were trustworthy and keen at their job, and guides who stole some of our gear.

One yoyo stole a whitetail buck I'd killed at gunpoint, and I've faced down black and grizzly bears at spitting distance. I fell off a fire escape while taking photos and broke my back, and have been attacked by a pack of wild dogs. I stupidly jumped into quicksand once, and have tripped and floated, upside down and backwards, through many river holes. I've been in countless storms in a small boat, and managed to make my way to shore without becoming a statistic although one trip down Quebec's George River in a storm left me with a broken rib and busted nose.

There have been some of the nicest people in the world who have worked with me, and a few who seemed certifiably crazy and didn't warrant a second chance. I've never been on a trip where I wasn't welcome to return sometime in the future, and second invites often are difficult to attain in this business.

I've filled camps and lodges for a year with some of my stories, and other stories just never seemed to click with readers. There is no predicting what readers will like or dislike, and this weblog is a good example. Some will find it interesting, some will consider me a braggart, and others might wish I'd written about a fishing hotspot they wanted to learn more about. Others chewed my tail for writing about what they consider their private hot spot.

A 43-year career spent doing what I wanted to do is  an idyllic way to spend my life.

We lost my twin brother George almost seven years ago, and my life hasn't been the same since. I think of him daily, recount our thousands of fishing and hunting days together, and wish they hadn't ended when they did. He had multiple forms of cancer, and when he died, I was happy for him because his battle is over. It's been tough on me since.

Now, I fish and hunt whenever I wish, and look to buy books on fishing and hunting from my readers. I enjoy short emails from readers, and answer as many as time permits, but an average of nearly 100 emails cross my desk daily. Many I won't answer because nothing about them apply to me or my website.

My father passed away almost four years ago, and his life was very difficult toward the end. Kay and I now look forward to future fishing and hunting trips together, going places where we've never been, and loving life, the outdoors and each other.

So, if you'll excuse me now, what remains of the Richey Clan, are going to  welcome this cantankerous old codger into his 71st year. So, with a hearty thank-you to those who have passed on birthday wishes, and to those who could care less, I bid you a fond adios for another day.

Stay well, and take care of each other.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors