by Edmund Ware Smith | Oct 6, 2026
To the deer hunter, sometimes black is white and up is down. It all depends on your point of view. Even now, I can feel the lucid silence of a cedar swamp – tomblike, tangled, ancient as the Book. And above the swamp the brown ridge rests in perpetual peace. This is...
by Edmund Ware Smith | Dec 23, 2024
“Look out, Dad!” Through the network of brown November branches I could see into the little open where my father watched for the driven grouse. This was the shot he loved best in all bird shooting. He had taught me its strategy the I was twelve, taught me right here...
