The Christmas duck
Many years ago, when I was struggling to maintain financial stability, I would nurture my spirit as often as I could by spending time outdoors doing things
First deer!
Ten-year-old Franklin Donegan got his first deer this season.
November Reflections
It seems that every November my spirt longs for a simpler life. The stark barren trees seem to strip off all unnecessary accoutrements of modern life.
The Miracle
A few years ago, I was working for an outdoor retailer, running programs that taught people to appreciate what nature can teach us through participation.
I’ll meet you at deer camp
My father was born the eighth child in a family of 10 children that subsisted from week to week on a coal miner’s solitary income. He would climb 200 feet down into a mine shaft to help his one-legged father extract enough chunks of coal to bag, walk into town and sell in order to purchase food for the evening’s dinner.
Wood Duck Heaven might be the fountain of youth
Twenty years ago, I was 41 years old. My experience as a professional waterfowl guide was at its zenith. I had wealthy clients from big cities and fancy gun clubs that never seemed to have the time to scout and practice calling ducks.
Saving a shot for the greater good
It is dusk on a glorious October evening. I am sitting quietly in my tree stand 15 feet above a well-worn deer trail. When I was younger, I would breathe the thinner air 25 and 30 feet up, but now, as I have ripened to the age of 61 years, I find it almost masochistic to climb up to even 15 feet.
The essence of the sacred hunt, passed down to the next generation
Occasionally, in a hunter’s life there presents an opportunity to share the outdoor knowledge accumulated over the years with a young mind willing to learn about the natural world and our place in it. It is the highest honor for another adult to entrust the young would-be hunter to the safety and experience.
Take the long way home
The current pandemic has changed a lot of our daily interactions and caused us to take a closer look at what really matters. When the population of our country is struggling to maintain a civil discourse on politics, I have found great solace in my own form of worship: that of nature and all that she offers us.
Nature does nothing in vain
Right now, our world is struggling with the unknown. We have not faced more uncertainty, fear, anxiety and concern for humanity in many generations. Our faith is being tested like never before.
A speck in time: The miracle of our connection to nature
A cold north wind blows through the curtains of the bedroom. I pull the duvet quilt up a little tighter around my shoulders and wiggle back into my warm cocoon. Visions of red-legged mallards with their wings cupped and their feet dangling down fly through my dreams. As they begin their final descent into the decoys, my hunting partner John and I both switch off the safety mechanism on our shotguns. One low mallard whistle on the call, and they commit to the spread.
Youth Hunters
Youth hunting started Saturday, November 2 and 3 was a great success for these great hunters.
Divine Entity’s energy—how do I bring it into my life, my body?
When I was a young man—well, actually more of a child than a man—I spent a lot of time in trees. I loved to climb high up into the canopy and feel the wind blowing over my ears, making that whispering sound that only leaves and poets can interpret.
You might be a redneck if . . .
As we drift through the last Dog Days of Summer, my attention turns to preparations. And Squirrel Season. There is wood to be stacked, elderberries to be picked and processed and chicken of the woods to seek out amidst the muggy evening mists.
Lost and found
Sometimes, when life is particularly challenging and I feel consumed by troubles—bills to pay, family squabbles, an illness with my loved ones, the loss of a job or comparing myself to others—I need to step back and get outside for a fresh perspective. And once in a while the universe conspires to throw all of these at me at once.
The space between duck and deer season
The space between duck and deer season leaves me wanting to wrap myself up in a cozy blanket in front of the outdoor fire pit, sipping a glass of merlot and celebrating the north wind nipping at my nose. I can smell the lake turning over its detritus from its depths, accompanied by a bittersweet symphony of high-flying migratory Canada geese navigating by the stars.
Camouflage, and maple syrup in my coffee
My duck-hunting partner, John, hunkers down in the corner of the blind, savoring a cup of hot espresso from his aged thermos. I can smell the sweet smoky fragrance, and I pick up my own thermos to toast the season. Without speaking we clink cups. Mine is French roast with a spoonful of maple syrup. We grin like two 10-year-olds.
Snow geese, a sight to behold
I once knew a man who introduced me to myself. His name was Tony. He owned a buffalo farm…
Sacred Hunter: No loss is without gain
It’s the time of year that many of us examine our balance sheets and seeks to claim losses to…