It seems like yesterday, but Feb. 15, 2005, was the day I became the Outdoors Editor for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette.
Ten years. That's twice as long as I have worked anywhere else in a career that touches all corners of journalism.
Coming back home to work at my dream job was unexpected. I was in my fifth year at the Missouri Department of Conservation as managing editor of Missouri Conservationist magazine. That's the MDC's version of Arkansas Wildlife, the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission's outreach organ. With a circulation topping 500,000, the Conservationist is one of the biggest outdoors magazines in America, and certainly the most popular and widely read publication in Missouri.
That is a plum position, and I was content in a retirement path that provided job security and tremendous benefits.
Content, yes, but I wasn't happy.
My heart is in writing, but the Conservationist managing editor's post is not a writing job. It manages paper and printing contracts, supervises the circulation department, maintains compliance with U.S. Postal Service regulations and helps coordinate the messages and agendas from the MDC's various divisions.
I was also Professor Oakley Nutkins, an anthropomorphic acorn that answers conservation questions in a monthly children's column. The abuse I took over spinning wing decoys on these pages in 2007 pales to the vitriol that followed an administration-vetted comment from Professor Nutkins about feral horses being detrimental to habitat in the Current River National Wild and Scenic River corridor.
By 2005, my fire for writing was reduced almost to ashes. I was unhappy and restless.
Democrat-Gazette Sports Editor Wally Hall contacted me about that time to see if I were interested in being his outdoors writer. I was also considering an opportunity to go to New York as an associate editor for Field & Stream. I declined a similar opportunity in 2000 to work with Frank Miniter at Outdoor Life.
Factoring in cost of living, the pay would have been roughly equal, but it also would have required a daily train commute of about two hours from an affordable place to live. With six children, I wasn't willing to do that.
My wife and I discussed every angle of coming home. Financially, it was imprudent. Our home in Missouri was paid free and clear, and we had zero debt. Nevertheless, Miss Laura wanted very badly to be back in Arkansas. Her folks are here, and she hated Missouri's bitter winters. As they say, when Mama's not happy, nobody's happy.
On Super Bowl Sunday 2005, I went to Crane Creek in southwest Missouri to think it over in solitude. Before I began fishing, I said a prayer: "Lord, I don't know what to do. Give me a sign that I can understand, and I'll follow."
A couple of hours later, I hooked a 16-inch rainbow trout, a giant for that tiny stream. Crane Creek has McCloud Creek rainbows, a rare strain of California origin that's known for its sublime beauty. Pure strain McCloud Creek rainbows don't exist in McCloud Creek anymore. They live only in Crane Creek.
That fish glowed like neon in that gray, sleeted air. The words of a story flowed through my mind. I became very emotional and thought, "Man, how I wish I had an audience I could share this with!"
It hit me like the proverbial hammer. That was the sign.
I released that fish, walked away from the creek and told Miss Laura to start packing.
Professionally, it was the best decision I ever made. It rekindled my love for writing, and reignited my passion for hunting, fishing and for the resources that are so important to the Arkansas lifestyle and culture. Most of all, it rekindled my passion for life.
It also has introduced me to some of my closest friends and confidants. Some of them appear regularly on this page. Others never will. They are the ones who make sure I know the answers before I ask the questions for tough and complicated stories that have appeared 11 times on 1A, and an equal number of times on 1B.
The total number of articles I've written since this date 10 years ago is close to 2,000. I am just as excited to write them now as I was then.
Frank Miniter left Outdoor Life and is now a New York Times best-selling author. A few years ago he told me, "Be thankful you didn't take one of those New York City office jobs."
I'm thankful every day.
Sports on 02/15/2015