Pa’tridge Fever
The proper hunting man experiences a special reverence for grouse country.
Nothing To Do for Three Weeks
I left long before daylight, alone but not lonely. Sunday-morning stillness filled the big city. It was so quiet that I heard the whistle of duck wings as I unlocked the car door. There would be ducks leaving Lake Michigan. A fine sound, that, early of a morning. Wild...
Hit the Drink!
An unforgettable day on – and in -the beautiful Brule. A classic story from 1958.
The Old Brown Mackinaw
When the Old Duck Hunter’s Association, Inc., died, the hearts of many men fell to the ground. There was no one like Mister President. When the old-timers go there is no bringing them back, nor is there any hope of replacing them. They are gone, and there is a...
Bluebill Day
What if you had a 15-bird limit but only 22 shells. Could you get the job done?