
Nicole Qualtieri
Writer and Editor at Freelance
Editor in Chief at The New Wild West
This is my silly place.
Articles
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4 days ago |
thewestrn.com | Nicole Qualtieri |Kestrel Keller
Howdy folks,It’s June, which means in a few short weeks, the evening light begins to leave as summer takes hold of the country. I’ve always been a summer sorta girl. I love the strange tan lines of adventure, grown dark while running wild through hills, drinking cold beer on rivers, kicking my feet up and floating the day away on a lake.
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1 month ago |
businessinsider.com | Paige DiFiore |Nicole Qualtieri |Henry Blodget
Although settling in Bozeman didn't work out for me, I lucked into a different spot that changed my life for the better. Nicole Qualtieri 2025-05-08T18:35:01Z Facebook Email X LinkedIn Copy link An icon in the shape of a lightning bolt. Impact Link Save Saved Read in app This story is available exclusively to Business Insider subscribers. Become an Insider and start reading now. Have an account? .
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1 month ago |
thewestrn.com | Nicole Qualtieri
This piece originally appeared as our first advertorial brand story in partnership with Argali in our inaugural print issue of The Westrn. “I’ve drawn out tent designs in the dirt with sticks,” Brad Brooks said, grinning. Brooks is a bonafide wilderness junkie. He runs to the hills come early fall, and the sort of adventures he tackles are unfamiliar to most casual outdoorsfolk.
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1 month ago |
thewestrn.com | Nicole Qualtieri |Kestrel Keller
Howdy folks,Green up is finally starting in the sagebrush country of Montana. I sometimes catch meadowlarks singing through the thick wind that threatens to blow my little house away. My horses are shedding their winter coats, and we’re still vacillating between snow and rain. Life is in transition. It’s a welcome time, and yet it’s also an itchy time. I pulled the first fat tick from the nape of my dog’s neck.
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1 month ago |
thewestrn.com | Nicole Qualtieri
Print Excerpt:The Spring IssueAuthor: Matt CunninghamI park in an inconspicuous spot by the airport hangars, the air thick with the smells of cut grass and warm cedar. A thin camouflage shirt sticks to my back as I walk past an open hangar. Four pilots sit in lawn chairs, swapping stories in front of a vintage Cessna. I hold the rifle sling tight, keeping the gun tucked close to my back as I wave. They casually wave back and sip their drinks.
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