Then, on June 6 he passed away following heart surgery, a crushing loss for his beloved wife, and a painful one for hundreds of friends.

Tim was, in Debbie’s words, “a lifelong disciple of Christ.” We can find many ways to say, “He was a Christian,” but it’s hard to find a better way than she found. It tells who transformed his life. It says who he lived for. It says that his faith was a deep, enduring, and consuming commitment. It says he didn’t view himself as a model, but he pointed to the model. And it says he was always learning how to become a better imitator of his model.

As a career game warden in Pennsylvania, Tim was a determined pursuer of poachers, and retirement didn’t diminish that effort. He wrote two books on the subject not only because he had a collection of great stories to tell, but also because he recognized that poaching is a threat to hunting, and any threat to modern conservation hunting is also a threat to the wildlife we all love.

Tim was a world-class wildlife photographer with images featured on the covers and in the pages of many magazines. He was most passionate about the ruffed grouse, Pennsylvania’s state bird, and published hundreds of images in a book called “Grouse and Woodcock — the Birds of My Life.” Tim won many awards for both writing and photography at state, regional and national levels.

In any lineup of outdoor writers and wildlife photographers Tim was both a peer and a mentor. He certainly deserves every laudatory comment anyone can make, but our loss of his

ample skillset as a wildlife crime fighter and a superior photographer are not the real loss. Replacements are in the pipeline or are already here.

His contributions to wildlife and the outdoors was the place where the bigger loss was on display. Tim never forgot what many people seem to have forgotten today: friendship does not require agreement. Tim wasn’t afraid that disagreeing with others, or allowing others to disagree with him, would threaten a friendship. Even if the disagreement was significant, the friendship could remain.

In contrast, a prominent attitude today seems to be, “If you don’t agree, we can’t be friends.” Where did people learn that friendship requires agreement? Will that be the fatal mistake of the 21st century? That attitude is a path to isolation because where full agreement is required, friendship has a hollowness to it. Friendship is proof-tested when disagreements don’t end it.

Friendship doesn’t require agreement. If it did, how could New Testament writers describe Jesus as a friend of sinners? Their moral standards weren’t his, and if matters of morality couldn’t cause him to abandon his mission to die for his sinful friends, why do we let lesser disagreements split us apart?

But we can make this point without an appeal to Jesus. If disagreeable behavior is enough to break a relationship, why don’t we just banish “man’s best friend” from our lives? But we don’t do that. Even when we see wrong behavior in our canine friends, the bond remains. Can we give our human friends the same allowance?

Why do I write about him, Tim Flanigan, a man few of my readers knew? Because true friendships do not require agreement on everything. We all need that kind of friendship, and we can all have them if we learn this lesson: True friends are not just the people you enjoy being with. They are the people you can disagree with and still cherish. True friendship grows deep over time. And true friendship is life changing.

ııı

When “The Everyday Hunter” isn’t hunting, he’s thinking about hunting, talking about hunting, dreaming about hunting, writing about hunting, or wishing he were hunting. If you want to tell Steve exactly where your favorite hunting spot is, contact him through his website, www.EverydayHunter.com. He writes for top outdoor magazines, and won the 2015, 2018 and 2023 national “Pinnacle Award” for outdoor writing.