Posts filed under: Sacred Hunter

SACRED HUNTER: No loss is without gain

Bradley Carleton | Contributor It’s the time of year that many of us examine our balance sheets and seeks to claim losses to offset our gains that we’ve seen in...

SACRED HUNTER: Mastering the technology behind ice fishing

Bradley Carleton | Contributor Ice fishing is not just for rednecks anymore. Put away those stereotypes of tobacco chewing, cussing, Bud-swilling archetypes and take another look at this traditional winter...

SACRED HUNTER: Diver hunting in December

Bradley Carleton | Contributor Late season diver duck hunting is not for the faint of heart. It is wrought with danger, and a calculating mind will be well prepared for...

As the north wind rocks the big trunked maple

Bradley Carleton | Contributor As we slide into the holiday months of November and December, let’s remember to take the time to be thankful for the bounty and freedom we...

Sacred Hunter: Have canoe, will travel

Bradley Carleton | Contributor The old green Mansfield canoe glides silently through the bay, its bow pointing toward the narrow ribbon of moonlight reflecting on the water. Reeds brush gently...

Sacred Hunter: The waiting game

He stood in the field, just over a hump, where only half of his body was visible. He seemed as if he was aware of his surroundings and, in a...

On fair chase and stereotyping hunters

I’ll be the first to admit that I am not an accomplished bass fisherman. I know that the intense explosion of a largemouth on a popper in the weeds is...

Sacred Hunter: Wild feast

Summiting a small hill east of Snake Mountain, I spot them in the distance. The elusive, magical wild asparagus. I slow down and check my rearview mirror for interlopers. I...

Sacred Hunter

My gun comes up to my shoulder, and I begin to breathe in measured cadence. In through the nose, out through the mouth. My heart beats wildly in my chest....

Sacred Hunter: Flying in unison

A few months ago I had a quarrel with a dear friend over something so petty (at the time it seemed to emphasize our inescapable differences) that it tore us...

Thin ice and mudcats

Reflection on this winter and how the strange weather affects fishing....

Reflecting on piles of perch

One second later, I had a bite. On the second bite I lifted my 24-inch ultra lite ice rod quickly and the fish was hooked. I reeled him up and,...

Perchin’ on the Point

Under normal circumstances, I spend three to four mornings a week sitting on a pickle bucket, either inside or outside of a shanty, jigging happily to the perch or smelt...

Final Days

It was a long cold ride across in the dark this morning, bucking a northwest wind, spray crashing over the bow and whipping my face like frozen needles in the...

Sacred Hunter: Giving thanks

Later this month many of us will take the time to give thanks for the blessing in our lives. We will sit around a table, share our thoughts on family...

Second Season

“Birds in the decoys,” I whisper, as three migrating greenwing teal swing in from the south. “Ready? John asks. “Ahyut,” I reply with a grin on my face. ...

Autumn Dreams

I dream vividly in September. So clear are my dreams, that at times it seems that I cannot tell which are my reality and which are, in fact, just a...

Sacred Hunter: The end of summer, autumn’s bounty

Against the far edge of a field, sitting like a Buddha on her haunches, a black bear munches on blackberries while her cubs roll in the second-cut hayfield. They bat...