December 13, 2024 • 22 mins
Brent's answering the question this week of how he got a job at MeatEater and what it's like to work there. It all started, in a roundabout way, over twenty years ago. Even though the path hasn't been the straightest, it got him there just the same. He's also got a story about his first camera and the muddy water of an Arkansas green tree reservoir. Pull up a chair, it's time for MeatEater's "This Country Life" podcast.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:05):
Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves
from coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living.
I want you to stay a while as I share
my experiences in life lessons. This Country Life is presented
by Case Knives on Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you
the best outdoor podcast the airwaves have to offer. All right, friends,
(00:28):
grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I've got some
stories to share working at meat Eater. People often asking
I love telling the story of how I wound up
working at meat Eater and what it's like. It's been
(00:48):
a long journey that started many moons ago, and I'm
going to tell you all about it. But first I'm
going to tell you a story. I was contacted by
a regional hunting show from South Carolina back around the
turn of the sentry, which used to mean a long
(01:11):
time ago, and I guess it's starting to again. But anyway.
The host of the show was originally from Arkansas. He
had a cousin he grew up with that was still
here and he contacted him about finding someone to guide
him and a cameraman on a film duck hunt. The
cousin worked with me at the Sheriff's office in the Eldorata, Arkansas,
(01:34):
and made the introduction. He and his cameraman came out
for three days of hunting in the flooded green timber.
We had a great hunt. I made friends with both
of them, but I was mostly interested in what was
going on behind the camera and in front of it.
I saved up and bought a Sony PD one seventy
(01:55):
camquarder that recorded onto many DV tapes, and at the
time it was the industry standard for outdoor video. I
remember the day the ups man dropped it off at
the house. It was like a new shotgun, but better.
I would be able to shoot everything all the time,
and good, honest to goodness quality green timber duck hunting
(02:18):
footage was scarce in those days. Now, I'm not saying
that there wasn't any. There just wasn't a lot that
I thought was very good. There were shots I had
in mind that I hadn't seen. Most of what I
saw wasn't shot from a tripod, so the cameras were
pretty unsteady. So I set out to fill my own
(02:39):
and show the world what real duck hunting footage looked like.
I bought a tripod and the fluid had to mount
the camera. I spent half the season when we didn't
have clients collecting footage of ducks coming into the timber.
I had a Pelican case I custom fit for the
camera and double bagged it with thick contractor trash bags
(02:59):
to keep overspray, wet dogs and folks getting in and
out of the boat from kicking water and mud on
the camera. That costs twice as much as my first truck.
It was my baby, and I treated it like one.
Dust was one thing, but water was a whole other
set of problems. Those cameras would shut down in heavy
(03:21):
damp environments. The circuit boards just couldn't handle the exposure
to moisture. I was like a man possessed any time
I had it in the field, especially around water. I
guarded it like my life depended on it, and kept
people and dogs away from every conceivable situation or path
of travel that would likely bring either in my proximity.
(03:45):
I would make everyone get out of the boat and
move over to where they were going to stand. Then
I'd get out walk the boat to where I was
going to be standing. Uncase the camera while it laid
on the deck, attached it to the tripod and set
it up, never taking my hand off the whole time
we were there. I didn't walk anywhere with it after
I took it out of the boat, or take any
(04:06):
chances watsoever. When it came to keeping it above the water,
it stressed me to no end. But just like a
hammer in a toolbox, it won't do you any good
unless you get it out and use it. When we
were riding, I would hold that double wrap case to
my chest and lie down in the bottom of the
boat like I was guarding the nuclear codes. I had
(04:28):
some great footage, but I was still missing one scene
that I hadn't seen yet, the zig zag and ride
through the timber that everyone loved that hunted with us.
Some even said it was their favorite part of the trip,
and the anticipation leading up to it was one of
the main reasons they came back year after year. Well,
that and they wanted to be there When Tim and
(04:50):
I eventually started duking it out because the longer the
season went, the dumber he got. He would say the
same thing, but he'd be wrong. Remember he's dumb. But
them wasn't the one taking the equivalent of a Craigslist truck.
As my friend Nick Gilliland rates everything above a certain
dollar amount. He wasn't taking it out in a boat
(05:13):
with a clumsy bunch of bottled up waiter wearing clowns
whose first concern was not whether or not my camera
got with So the best thing to do was to
go after the season was out, when those buffoons weren't
in the boat. I'd go by myself. There'd be no
one else in the woods, and I could film to
(05:33):
my heart's content. It was six thirty in the morning
when I unloaded the boat, and there wasn't a cloud
in the sky. I set the trip out up in
the boat and spread the legs out with the camera
at eye level. It was rock solid. I fired the
boat motor up, pointed it up to by old press record,
and showered down on the throttle and shot away from
(05:55):
that boat round like I was late for work. I
could have pulled a fat dog on behind that boat.
I hit the trail that led away from the levee
and never let off the gas, zigzagging like I'd done
a million times, around stumps and under low hanging limbs,
cutting hard and left, staying on plane and that full
throttle from nearly a mile. Leonard Skinnrich called me. The
(06:18):
breeze was playing in my head, and I wondered how
big the lawsuit was gonna be when I put their
music to my video. During that portion of the production,
as I approached the whole ducks were getting up in
front of me by the hundreds. I was in a
hurry now to get out and set up the camera
and catch them all when they started coming back to
(06:39):
the calls of all the ducks in the woods that
had never left. This was gonna be epic, like National Geographic.
I cut the power to the motor, and as the
kinetic energy drained away from my vessel, I shoved my
life jacket, hung my right leg over the side of
the boat, and followed it with my left, rolling out
onto my feet like a Navy seal, and kicked my
(07:01):
camera out into the knee deep muddy water the Biometa.
It would cost me another fifteen hundred dollars to get
that camera dried out and clean, and after all that
costly calamity, I never made that film. And that's just
(07:23):
how that happened. I get asked all the time on
what it's like to work at meat either. How in
the world I managed to pull it off. It's still
kind of a blur to me, But not one day
that goes by do I take it for granted or
(07:45):
fail to give thanks for the blessings of what this
job entails and the opportunity it has afforded me and
my family. Some of you, I'm sure it'd have heard
me tell the story of how I got here, but
for those that haven't, I'll do a quick recap so
everyone's up to speed before I go any further. After
(08:05):
dunking my camera in the Biometa, I obviously got to
replace and upgraded cameras eventually, and eventually I started out
filming my favorite hillbilly, lay Nukel, before he was everyone
else's favorite hill building. He was using video content to
support the promotion of his former publication, Bear Hunting Magazine.
(08:27):
Now that content, along with his freelance writing, the magazine's
podcast he produced, and his singular focus in years of
hard work to make a living in the outdoor space,
did just that for him, and Meat Eater offered him
a job. Well. When that happened, he had professional cinematographers
and photographers and producers and editors and sound engineers and
(08:50):
others who were doing all the individual duties that he
and I used to share in mostly him, and they
were way better at it. Understandably, I was out of
a job. I mean, it wasn't like I got fired
because I'd been volunteering my time all those years. He
covered my expenses, and I worked hard to help my
(09:11):
friends succeed just because he was my friend and I
believed in what he was doing, the content he was creating,
and the message he was sharing. But my talents paled
in comparison to those folks. Fast forward a year or
so after he went to work and Meeta or gave
anyone who worked for the company the opportunity to submit
(09:33):
ideas for a podcast through a form. Now you had
to list the name of the show, who would host it,
the theme of the content, the link to the episodes,
and the general idea of the format. Well, Clay convinced
me to submit an idea, even though my only connection
to working there at the time was being a guest
on a couple of his first podcasts and a regular
(09:54):
on The Bear gree shur Render every other week, which
was another voluntary effort that in included a five hour
round trip drive to help my friend. He told me
over and over that he'd repay me one day, but
I was already being paid. I was an adopted member
of the entire newcom clan, and I felt as though
they belonged to me just as much as I did
(10:16):
to them. So one time, my wife Alexis and I
were in Northwest Arkansas and stayed in Clay and missed
his guest room after I recorded a podcast with him,
and we all wound up going out to eat supper
that night. I asked him again about that application process
for the podcast ideas, and in about forty five minutes,
(10:38):
the four of us had hashed out ideas in a
format for what the show is today. What we came
up with that night is about eighty percent of what
you're here now, So if you hate it, it's not
all my fault. Now, fast forward through a couple of
mock episodes I recorded and submitted for me to listen to,
(10:59):
and here we are now. Most don't know that the
monologue format of what I'm doing wasn't the original idea.
The first one I submitted was me talking to my
good friend David McDaniels from East Texas. Much like I
talked to all of you now, Steve Vanella took one
listen and said, you know there's something there, but that
(11:19):
ain't it. You need to redo that episode. Instead of
talking to someone one on one, just talk to the mic.
I changed it, and here we are. Now that you
know how I got here, let me tell you about
what it's like working here. Now. What I didn't mention
in the opening is my favorite part about working here
(11:42):
and what I'm most thankful for, and that's the people
that I get to work with. The on camera folks
are just as you said here. They're authentic and unapologetic
in their opinions, open to hear opposing views, and respectful
even if they disagree, you know, like grown folks should be.
(12:04):
But it's not the ones you regularly see and here
that are involved in producing content that I'm talking about,
even though they are as big a blessing to me
as well. It's the whole, dynamic world of people that
make this company what it is. We come up with
ideas for our content all on our own and occasionally
through suggestions from our colleagues and sometimes even the listeners
(12:32):
my weekly podcast content is recorded here in my home
and edited in Bozeman by Riva Hanson. Then she sends
it back to me for approval once she's done. And
they say you can't make chicken salad out of chicken, Well,
you know. But each week Riva takes the ramblems of
a mental equivalent toddler and turns it into something a
(12:55):
lot of you find mildly entertaining. Now. I can't tell
you how many times I've sent in and recording and
thought that would be the one that gets me fired,
only to receive and return a polished piece of media
that I'm proud to attach my name to. You never
see or hear Riva on here, but I do. Every week.
(13:19):
I hear her and how she sees the message I'm
struggling to communicate and accentuates the mood by adding the
layers of sounds and music that adds to the story
and feeling that I failed to capture with my limited vocabulary.
Fixing the ramblings of an adolescent is only a portion
of her duties, and yet she remains calm and a
(13:42):
sea of deadlines and commitments that have her work in
far more hours than she's required because it matters to
her how you hear the stories that I tell. Now,
everyone I've had the pleasure to work with has been
singularly focused on making the content we've put out to
be the best that's available. And it takes a whole
(14:03):
lot more folks than the ones you see and here
to make this work. None of what we produced is
left to chance or crafted with the attitude that that's
good enough. It's never good enough, and there's always room
for improving. A strapping young lad named Roman from Minnesota
counts among his daily duties as reading and responding to
(14:25):
every email and piece of correspondence that comes into meeting,
and let me tell you, there's a lot of them.
Then there's a lesson Christine and hr and Valerie and
accounting Hannah, Matt Will, Maggie Trestaus, Samantha Hillary, along with
a host of others who all play a pivotal role
in keeping this ship running in the right direction. It's
(14:47):
a complicated mass of moving parts that have to all
be in sync to put out the outdoor related content
that I feel is second to none. On top of
all of that, we have to deal with the weather
and the animals were chasing. Sometimes they don't always read
the script. The films we produce are playing months even
(15:07):
a year before the actual event takes place. It's like
rolling the dice every time you plan something. Now, don't
get me wrong, this is fun. It's a great way
to make a living and one that I never thought
that I'd be able to do. But the reality of
it is we can only prepare and control so much.
The most important parts are left up to mother nature,
(15:28):
and sometimes that don't work out. But that's what makes
it good when it all comes together, and more times
than not it does. Here's a generic rundown of one
project that I and a whole bunch of folks have
been planning for over nine months now and how it
goes from idea to finish product or how it's supposed to.
(15:51):
My friend Connor Flanagan, the brand director over at First Light,
walked up to me when I was at the office
impostman and says, Brent, would you be interested in doing
a duck hunting film in Arkansas for First Line? Why yes, Connor,
I would be more than interested in doing a duck
hunting film for First Life in Arkansas. From that conversation
(16:12):
and approval from my boss, Montana's own Garrett Long. We
schedule the first of what would be several meetings regarding
where it would be, when it would be, who would
be in the project, and the story we would try
to tell. There's always an underlying story and message we're
trying to tell amidst the framework of a hunting film.
(16:34):
To go along with that, we make a list of
what is needed equipment wise to use for the production,
everything from firearms and clothing and cameras. That's gone over
and decided upon weeks and usually months in advance. The
public land is chosen to hunt, there are certain licenses
and permits that have to be purchased. If it's private land,
(16:54):
there are releases and fees to paying. Food and lodging
is secured. Traveler has arranged. All the pertinent information is
logged into what's called a production behind there. It's a
big notebook with all the instruction, who's doing what, where
they're doing it, when they're doing it, the shots that
are required for the filming, Any and all emergency medical
(17:15):
facilities in the area should the need a rise. Nothing
controllable is left to chance. Multiple Zoom meetings countless emails,
a dozen or more phone calls, and a novel of
text messages goes into every production. For this Duck Hunt,
there were to be about ten of us total on
the production center, and that's everyone associated with the project
(17:38):
on location, with only four of us actually being on camera,
and once all the hours of unedited footage makes it
back to the editors and imposeemen, there could be another
handful of folks working on it there. And that's just
one project. There are others creating content at the same
(18:00):
time all over the country during this time of year especially,
and they're all working in the same manner. That's why
we have to schedule so far out in advance to
accommodate all the projects and make sure everyone has what
they need. And then something happens that'll throw it all
out of whack. People get sick, the weather turns bad,
(18:20):
the animals don't cooperate, and these folks just deal with it,
usually with a smile. We affect change on what we
can to alleviate any and all obstacles that would hinder production.
And except that when we're dealing with nature, there's only
so much that we can control. The project that I
(18:41):
hinted to the Arkansas Duck Hunts with First Light. We
had to postpone it in a meeting yesterday because of
low water levels in the area that we're chosen to fild.
We'll reschedule and maybe even change locations if necessary, and
go through all the motions again that we did before,
just to make sure we've got everything covered that we
(19:01):
can cover. It's fun, it's not easy. It's frustrating at times,
but it's so rewarding when it all comes together and
the final product represents the people and their stories that
deserve to be told. Then when the project comes to
a close and the final draft is ready for release,
(19:22):
months or even a year's gone by and we've already
done the same thing all over again somewhere else, multiple times.
I never thought I'd be making a living doing these
things that I would pay to do, even though I
dreamed of it as a kid and even a young man,
making a living doing the things that my dad taught
(19:43):
me to do for fun. It's different than what I thought,
and I've been associated with the outdoor business for several
years now. But to do it in a professional manner
that is the standard here is beyond what I'd ever
experienced when it was just me and whoever and talking
to letting me tag along with the camera over twenty
years ago. I've never seen a more dedicated group of
(20:07):
people whose singular mission is to do their part in
the machine that turns out relative, entertaining and conscientious content.
And the majority of them you will never see, your hear.
It's easy to overlook them unless you're privileged to see
how it all works. From the insight, they're the real
stars of the show, this one especially. So what's it
(20:32):
like to work with me? Did for me It's like
going to bed and dreaming about having the best job
I could ever imagine for myself, with countless opportunities to
travel and see and experience things that I could only
dream of, and work with the most professional and supportive
group of professionals in the outdoor business, and then wake
(20:55):
up and find out it's all true, every bit of it.
I think, all of you who listen every week, those
are not just words. I truly mean it from the
bottom of my heart. I also want to thank all
the people I'm so blessed to work with, who each
play more than a modicum role in the success of
(21:15):
this weekly struggle. It's for them and you that I
do my dead level best to provide entertaining content that
at least is prayerfully entertaining and enlightening at best. Do
you know that we have another channel on YouTube called
meat Eater Clips. You can subscribe to it as well,
and you'll see some short form videos on there that
(21:38):
you won't see anyplace else. Check it out when you
have the chance. I think you'll like it. Until next week,
this is Brent Reeves signing off. Y'all be careful
Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves
from coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living.
I want you to stay a while as I share
my experiences in life lessons. This Country Life is presented
by Case Knives on Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you
the best outdoor podcast the airwaves have to offer. All right, friends,
(00:28):
grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I've got some
stories to share working at meat Eater. People often asking
I love telling the story of how I wound up
working at meat Eater and what it's like. It's been
(00:48):
a long journey that started many moons ago, and I'm
going to tell you all about it. But first I'm
going to tell you a story. I was contacted by
a regional hunting show from South Carolina back around the
turn of the sentry, which used to mean a long
(01:11):
time ago, and I guess it's starting to again. But anyway.
The host of the show was originally from Arkansas. He
had a cousin he grew up with that was still
here and he contacted him about finding someone to guide
him and a cameraman on a film duck hunt. The
cousin worked with me at the Sheriff's office in the Eldorata, Arkansas,
(01:34):
and made the introduction. He and his cameraman came out
for three days of hunting in the flooded green timber.
We had a great hunt. I made friends with both
of them, but I was mostly interested in what was
going on behind the camera and in front of it.
I saved up and bought a Sony PD one seventy
(01:55):
camquarder that recorded onto many DV tapes, and at the
time it was the industry standard for outdoor video. I
remember the day the ups man dropped it off at
the house. It was like a new shotgun, but better.
I would be able to shoot everything all the time,
and good, honest to goodness quality green timber duck hunting
(02:18):
footage was scarce in those days. Now, I'm not saying
that there wasn't any. There just wasn't a lot that
I thought was very good. There were shots I had
in mind that I hadn't seen. Most of what I
saw wasn't shot from a tripod, so the cameras were
pretty unsteady. So I set out to fill my own
(02:39):
and show the world what real duck hunting footage looked like.
I bought a tripod and the fluid had to mount
the camera. I spent half the season when we didn't
have clients collecting footage of ducks coming into the timber.
I had a Pelican case I custom fit for the
camera and double bagged it with thick contractor trash bags
(02:59):
to keep overspray, wet dogs and folks getting in and
out of the boat from kicking water and mud on
the camera. That costs twice as much as my first truck.
It was my baby, and I treated it like one.
Dust was one thing, but water was a whole other
set of problems. Those cameras would shut down in heavy
(03:21):
damp environments. The circuit boards just couldn't handle the exposure
to moisture. I was like a man possessed any time
I had it in the field, especially around water. I
guarded it like my life depended on it, and kept
people and dogs away from every conceivable situation or path
of travel that would likely bring either in my proximity.
(03:45):
I would make everyone get out of the boat and
move over to where they were going to stand. Then
I'd get out walk the boat to where I was
going to be standing. Uncase the camera while it laid
on the deck, attached it to the tripod and set
it up, never taking my hand off the whole time
we were there. I didn't walk anywhere with it after
I took it out of the boat, or take any
(04:06):
chances watsoever. When it came to keeping it above the water,
it stressed me to no end. But just like a
hammer in a toolbox, it won't do you any good
unless you get it out and use it. When we
were riding, I would hold that double wrap case to
my chest and lie down in the bottom of the
boat like I was guarding the nuclear codes. I had
(04:28):
some great footage, but I was still missing one scene
that I hadn't seen yet, the zig zag and ride
through the timber that everyone loved that hunted with us.
Some even said it was their favorite part of the trip,
and the anticipation leading up to it was one of
the main reasons they came back year after year. Well,
that and they wanted to be there When Tim and
(04:50):
I eventually started duking it out because the longer the
season went, the dumber he got. He would say the
same thing, but he'd be wrong. Remember he's dumb. But
them wasn't the one taking the equivalent of a Craigslist truck.
As my friend Nick Gilliland rates everything above a certain
dollar amount. He wasn't taking it out in a boat
(05:13):
with a clumsy bunch of bottled up waiter wearing clowns
whose first concern was not whether or not my camera
got with So the best thing to do was to
go after the season was out, when those buffoons weren't
in the boat. I'd go by myself. There'd be no
one else in the woods, and I could film to
(05:33):
my heart's content. It was six thirty in the morning
when I unloaded the boat, and there wasn't a cloud
in the sky. I set the trip out up in
the boat and spread the legs out with the camera
at eye level. It was rock solid. I fired the
boat motor up, pointed it up to by old press record,
and showered down on the throttle and shot away from
(05:55):
that boat round like I was late for work. I
could have pulled a fat dog on behind that boat.
I hit the trail that led away from the levee
and never let off the gas, zigzagging like I'd done
a million times, around stumps and under low hanging limbs,
cutting hard and left, staying on plane and that full
throttle from nearly a mile. Leonard Skinnrich called me. The
(06:18):
breeze was playing in my head, and I wondered how
big the lawsuit was gonna be when I put their
music to my video. During that portion of the production,
as I approached the whole ducks were getting up in
front of me by the hundreds. I was in a
hurry now to get out and set up the camera
and catch them all when they started coming back to
(06:39):
the calls of all the ducks in the woods that
had never left. This was gonna be epic, like National Geographic.
I cut the power to the motor, and as the
kinetic energy drained away from my vessel, I shoved my
life jacket, hung my right leg over the side of
the boat, and followed it with my left, rolling out
onto my feet like a Navy seal, and kicked my
(07:01):
camera out into the knee deep muddy water the Biometa.
It would cost me another fifteen hundred dollars to get
that camera dried out and clean, and after all that
costly calamity, I never made that film. And that's just
(07:23):
how that happened. I get asked all the time on
what it's like to work at meat either. How in
the world I managed to pull it off. It's still
kind of a blur to me, But not one day
that goes by do I take it for granted or
(07:45):
fail to give thanks for the blessings of what this
job entails and the opportunity it has afforded me and
my family. Some of you, I'm sure it'd have heard
me tell the story of how I got here, but
for those that haven't, I'll do a quick recap so
everyone's up to speed before I go any further. After
(08:05):
dunking my camera in the Biometa, I obviously got to
replace and upgraded cameras eventually, and eventually I started out
filming my favorite hillbilly, lay Nukel, before he was everyone
else's favorite hill building. He was using video content to
support the promotion of his former publication, Bear Hunting Magazine.
(08:27):
Now that content, along with his freelance writing, the magazine's
podcast he produced, and his singular focus in years of
hard work to make a living in the outdoor space,
did just that for him, and Meat Eater offered him
a job. Well. When that happened, he had professional cinematographers
and photographers and producers and editors and sound engineers and
(08:50):
others who were doing all the individual duties that he
and I used to share in mostly him, and they
were way better at it. Understandably, I was out of
a job. I mean, it wasn't like I got fired
because I'd been volunteering my time all those years. He
covered my expenses, and I worked hard to help my
(09:11):
friends succeed just because he was my friend and I
believed in what he was doing, the content he was creating,
and the message he was sharing. But my talents paled
in comparison to those folks. Fast forward a year or
so after he went to work and Meeta or gave
anyone who worked for the company the opportunity to submit
(09:33):
ideas for a podcast through a form. Now you had
to list the name of the show, who would host it,
the theme of the content, the link to the episodes,
and the general idea of the format. Well, Clay convinced
me to submit an idea, even though my only connection
to working there at the time was being a guest
on a couple of his first podcasts and a regular
(09:54):
on The Bear gree shur Render every other week, which
was another voluntary effort that in included a five hour
round trip drive to help my friend. He told me
over and over that he'd repay me one day, but
I was already being paid. I was an adopted member
of the entire newcom clan, and I felt as though
they belonged to me just as much as I did
(10:16):
to them. So one time, my wife Alexis and I
were in Northwest Arkansas and stayed in Clay and missed
his guest room after I recorded a podcast with him,
and we all wound up going out to eat supper
that night. I asked him again about that application process
for the podcast ideas, and in about forty five minutes,
(10:38):
the four of us had hashed out ideas in a
format for what the show is today. What we came
up with that night is about eighty percent of what
you're here now, So if you hate it, it's not
all my fault. Now, fast forward through a couple of
mock episodes I recorded and submitted for me to listen to,
(10:59):
and here we are now. Most don't know that the
monologue format of what I'm doing wasn't the original idea.
The first one I submitted was me talking to my
good friend David McDaniels from East Texas. Much like I
talked to all of you now, Steve Vanella took one
listen and said, you know there's something there, but that
(11:19):
ain't it. You need to redo that episode. Instead of
talking to someone one on one, just talk to the mic.
I changed it, and here we are. Now that you
know how I got here, let me tell you about
what it's like working here. Now. What I didn't mention
in the opening is my favorite part about working here
(11:42):
and what I'm most thankful for, and that's the people
that I get to work with. The on camera folks
are just as you said here. They're authentic and unapologetic
in their opinions, open to hear opposing views, and respectful
even if they disagree, you know, like grown folks should be.
(12:04):
But it's not the ones you regularly see and here
that are involved in producing content that I'm talking about,
even though they are as big a blessing to me
as well. It's the whole, dynamic world of people that
make this company what it is. We come up with
ideas for our content all on our own and occasionally
through suggestions from our colleagues and sometimes even the listeners
(12:32):
my weekly podcast content is recorded here in my home
and edited in Bozeman by Riva Hanson. Then she sends
it back to me for approval once she's done. And
they say you can't make chicken salad out of chicken, Well,
you know. But each week Riva takes the ramblems of
a mental equivalent toddler and turns it into something a
(12:55):
lot of you find mildly entertaining. Now. I can't tell
you how many times I've sent in and recording and
thought that would be the one that gets me fired,
only to receive and return a polished piece of media
that I'm proud to attach my name to. You never
see or hear Riva on here, but I do. Every week.
(13:19):
I hear her and how she sees the message I'm
struggling to communicate and accentuates the mood by adding the
layers of sounds and music that adds to the story
and feeling that I failed to capture with my limited vocabulary.
Fixing the ramblings of an adolescent is only a portion
of her duties, and yet she remains calm and a
(13:42):
sea of deadlines and commitments that have her work in
far more hours than she's required because it matters to
her how you hear the stories that I tell. Now,
everyone I've had the pleasure to work with has been
singularly focused on making the content we've put out to
be the best that's available. And it takes a whole
(14:03):
lot more folks than the ones you see and here
to make this work. None of what we produced is
left to chance or crafted with the attitude that that's
good enough. It's never good enough, and there's always room
for improving. A strapping young lad named Roman from Minnesota
counts among his daily duties as reading and responding to
(14:25):
every email and piece of correspondence that comes into meeting,
and let me tell you, there's a lot of them.
Then there's a lesson Christine and hr and Valerie and
accounting Hannah, Matt Will, Maggie Trestaus, Samantha Hillary, along with
a host of others who all play a pivotal role
in keeping this ship running in the right direction. It's
(14:47):
a complicated mass of moving parts that have to all
be in sync to put out the outdoor related content
that I feel is second to none. On top of
all of that, we have to deal with the weather
and the animals were chasing. Sometimes they don't always read
the script. The films we produce are playing months even
(15:07):
a year before the actual event takes place. It's like
rolling the dice every time you plan something. Now, don't
get me wrong, this is fun. It's a great way
to make a living and one that I never thought
that I'd be able to do. But the reality of
it is we can only prepare and control so much.
The most important parts are left up to mother nature,
(15:28):
and sometimes that don't work out. But that's what makes
it good when it all comes together, and more times
than not it does. Here's a generic rundown of one
project that I and a whole bunch of folks have
been planning for over nine months now and how it
goes from idea to finish product or how it's supposed to.
(15:51):
My friend Connor Flanagan, the brand director over at First Light,
walked up to me when I was at the office
impostman and says, Brent, would you be interested in doing
a duck hunting film in Arkansas for First Line? Why yes, Connor,
I would be more than interested in doing a duck
hunting film for First Life in Arkansas. From that conversation
(16:12):
and approval from my boss, Montana's own Garrett Long. We
schedule the first of what would be several meetings regarding
where it would be, when it would be, who would
be in the project, and the story we would try
to tell. There's always an underlying story and message we're
trying to tell amidst the framework of a hunting film.
(16:34):
To go along with that, we make a list of
what is needed equipment wise to use for the production,
everything from firearms and clothing and cameras. That's gone over
and decided upon weeks and usually months in advance. The
public land is chosen to hunt, there are certain licenses
and permits that have to be purchased. If it's private land,
(16:54):
there are releases and fees to paying. Food and lodging
is secured. Traveler has arranged. All the pertinent information is
logged into what's called a production behind there. It's a
big notebook with all the instruction, who's doing what, where
they're doing it, when they're doing it, the shots that
are required for the filming, Any and all emergency medical
(17:15):
facilities in the area should the need a rise. Nothing
controllable is left to chance. Multiple Zoom meetings countless emails,
a dozen or more phone calls, and a novel of
text messages goes into every production. For this Duck Hunt,
there were to be about ten of us total on
the production center, and that's everyone associated with the project
(17:38):
on location, with only four of us actually being on camera,
and once all the hours of unedited footage makes it
back to the editors and imposeemen, there could be another
handful of folks working on it there. And that's just
one project. There are others creating content at the same
(18:00):
time all over the country during this time of year especially,
and they're all working in the same manner. That's why
we have to schedule so far out in advance to
accommodate all the projects and make sure everyone has what
they need. And then something happens that'll throw it all
out of whack. People get sick, the weather turns bad,
(18:20):
the animals don't cooperate, and these folks just deal with it,
usually with a smile. We affect change on what we
can to alleviate any and all obstacles that would hinder production.
And except that when we're dealing with nature, there's only
so much that we can control. The project that I
(18:41):
hinted to the Arkansas Duck Hunts with First Light. We
had to postpone it in a meeting yesterday because of
low water levels in the area that we're chosen to fild.
We'll reschedule and maybe even change locations if necessary, and
go through all the motions again that we did before,
just to make sure we've got everything covered that we
(19:01):
can cover. It's fun, it's not easy. It's frustrating at times,
but it's so rewarding when it all comes together and
the final product represents the people and their stories that
deserve to be told. Then when the project comes to
a close and the final draft is ready for release,
(19:22):
months or even a year's gone by and we've already
done the same thing all over again somewhere else, multiple times.
I never thought I'd be making a living doing these
things that I would pay to do, even though I
dreamed of it as a kid and even a young man,
making a living doing the things that my dad taught
(19:43):
me to do for fun. It's different than what I thought,
and I've been associated with the outdoor business for several
years now. But to do it in a professional manner
that is the standard here is beyond what I'd ever
experienced when it was just me and whoever and talking
to letting me tag along with the camera over twenty
years ago. I've never seen a more dedicated group of
(20:07):
people whose singular mission is to do their part in
the machine that turns out relative, entertaining and conscientious content.
And the majority of them you will never see, your hear.
It's easy to overlook them unless you're privileged to see
how it all works. From the insight, they're the real
stars of the show, this one especially. So what's it
(20:32):
like to work with me? Did for me It's like
going to bed and dreaming about having the best job
I could ever imagine for myself, with countless opportunities to
travel and see and experience things that I could only
dream of, and work with the most professional and supportive
group of professionals in the outdoor business, and then wake
(20:55):
up and find out it's all true, every bit of it.
I think, all of you who listen every week, those
are not just words. I truly mean it from the
bottom of my heart. I also want to thank all
the people I'm so blessed to work with, who each
play more than a modicum role in the success of
(21:15):
this weekly struggle. It's for them and you that I
do my dead level best to provide entertaining content that
at least is prayerfully entertaining and enlightening at best. Do
you know that we have another channel on YouTube called
meat Eater Clips. You can subscribe to it as well,
and you'll see some short form videos on there that
(21:38):
you won't see anyplace else. Check it out when you
have the chance. I think you'll like it. Until next week,
this is Brent Reeves signing off. Y'all be careful
Host
Clay Newcomb
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