I backed into the short road that jutted out into a small clearing surrounded by spruce and birch trees. Most of the springtime snow had melted, leaving behind cans, busted bottles, shattered TV and computer screens and about anything else that could be shot. The trees in the background were scarred with bullet holes, many of them dead.

There were two young men standing in front of a pickup, one with an AR-15 of some sort, the other with a pump 12-gauge shotgun. They stopped their shooting of a computer screen 20 yards out in the clearing.

I got out of my vehicle and took a couple of wide-angle photos of the mess. The shotgun guy hollered, "Hey, why are you taking pictures?"

"Well," I said, "I've been cleaning up this place for years, and you two are the first people I have caught in the act of trashing the place. I took the photos so I can run the license plate on your truck and when I get some of this stuff loaded up, I'll bring it over and dump it in your yard."

The lad with the shotgun said, "Can't you see we have guns?"

The other said, "This is public land, we can shoot here."

I told them that yes, I could see they had guns and that we all had guns (they couldn't see the .45 covered by my vest) and that was nice.

The shotgun guy said, "What gives you the right to harass us? What are you, some sort of cop?"

I said that yes, as a matter of fact, I was some sort of cop but that wasn't what this was about. I told them this was about people like them trashing places like this, and people like me tired of cleaning up.

"Look," I said, "I'm not going to accuse you of being stupid. We just met. But I suspect maybe you are ignorant and maybe you don't know any better but if you'll give me a minute, I try to help you out."

Public land, right?

Looking sheepish, they nodded, like kids caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I told them that public land belongs to everyone and yes, you can shoot here, but it is also sort of like a community front yard. Do you think most folks would approve of your shooting trash in their yard?

"Public land is for everyone, and so is the local landfill, where this stuff belongs," I said. "I know you are shooters; are you hunters as well?"

Yeah, we hunt, they replied.

"So when the public drives by and sees this, who do you think they think is responsible? Don't you think hunters and shooters have enough bad publicity?"

They nodded.

They asked where they were supposed to shoot. I told them about the local gun club they could join but that they could shoot here. They just couldn't leave trash.

Besides being unsightly and illegal, when you leave your trash behind, it's an invitation for others who aren't necessarily shooters to save themselves a few miles to the dump and just throw their trash in places like this. Pointing out an old couch, I suggested that it wasn't brought there to shoot. More likely, it was dumped because the trash already there implied permission for others to do the same.

I told them that I had come out to do some cleaning up and didn't have a lot of time, but if they had a minute, I would show them something. They followed me out through the mounds of plastic water bottles, energy drink cans, beer bottles and computer wreckage. It only took a moment to find what I was looking for — a busted beer bottle with a jagged edge sticking upright.

"See that," I said. Yes, they saw it.

"Now look here," I said, pointing to a fresh moose track within a few feet of the busted bottle. "You guys are hunters. As such, you are supposed to care about wildlife, so what do you think if a moose or most any other animal stepped on that bottle?"

Another sheepish look toward their feet.

The litter Nazi

My partner Christine says I'm a litter Nazi. She may have a point. There aren't a lot of things that enrage me, but trashing the planet is one of them — especially when it's associated with hunters and shooters. But it would seem there is ample evidence that some hunters and shooters are litterers.

One of the rewards for getting far back in the country is the lack of litter. Trashing a place is clearly linked to those who don't walk much. Some duck blinds we go to that are used by the public and easy to access are always full of trash, empty shot shells, often beer bottles — a fairly scary discovery. I've never understood why folks who otherwise don't litter think nothing of leaving their shot shells and empty brass where they fall.

The practice of using public land as a dump isn't exclusive to populated areas. We do a fair amount of traveling around the state with our setters for bird hunting. Places like the one described above are common along rural roads and trails that allow motorized vehicles.

You don't have to find one of these places to see the reckless disregard for public property by people that perhaps should not have firearms. Road signs seem to be a favorite target for what is undoubtedly a small percentage of gun owners.

Besides costing everyone money, bullet holes demonstrate a public safety concern. And the association with responsible gun owners is unavoidable.

Fines for littering don't seem to work. Signs along Alaska's roadways threaten a $1,000 fine for littering. Given the proliferation of litter in our state, we might be able to solve Alaska's budgetary concerns with litter fines alone. But I've never known anyone or heard of anyone paying one of these fines. Perhaps that is a sign itself.

Those two young fellows stayed and helped load my truck with garbage, apologizing for their behavior as they left. I don't know how much difference that interaction made, though I feel like it made a difference in that place at that time.

In the meantime, folks who care about litter will volunteer for the annual spring clean-up efforts. Those who love the outdoors will continue to take garbage bags to the field to collect trash they encounter in a rather desperate hope that setting the example will bring change.