12 Nebraskaland • January-February 2025
IN THE FIELD
The heater felt so good that January day. As the
warm air filled the cab of the truck, the numbness
left my body. Well, almost.
As I was warming up after a morning of
photographing a Pine Ridge wild turkey capture
in sub-zero temperatures, sensitivity was not
returning to my right thumb. In hindsight, it
shouldn't have been unexpected since the thumb
had been outside my fleece glommits all morning,
pressing the bone-chilling cold focusing button on
the camera.
As I watched my thumb turn black from frostbite
in the coming days, it was obvious that I needed to
find a better system for keeping my hands warm. It
seems my digits have always been quick to get cold,
but it happens even quicker as I get older.
I'm glad to report success. A hand-warming
pouch, or muff, that hangs by a sling from my neck
and a rechargeable hand warmer have been game-
changers. Now, whenever my fingers start getting
cold, my hands retreat to a toasty microclimate.
In just a few moments, they are ready to return to
the camera, ice-fishing rod or other important tool
without the numbness experienced so many times
before.
I still usually wear lightweight running gloves,
which allow enough dexterity to press buttons
and even work with touch-screen electronics. They
provide just enough warmth for most winter days
when my hands are outside the muff and are thin
enough to layer up with heavier gloves, such as
my trusty-but-not-so-trusty old glommits, when
temps go from cold to bone-chilling — such as that
January day with the turkeys.
Anyone who has had frostbite probably knows
the affected area is more sensitive to cold than
before, and my thumb is no exception. With the
muff-glove-warmer approach, I am more prepared
for whatever Old Man Winter and Jack Frost deal
me, though. Just wish I'd figured it out sooner.
ONCE BITTEN
By Justin Haag
This hand-warming pouch, or muff , has become a lifesaver on Nebraska's frigid days. JUSTIN HAAG, NEBRASKALAND
