First Deer for Wyatt

First Deer for Wyatt

A bit before dawn, Wyatt Grimmelt and his dad, Tony, had been delivered to their stand along a logging road through a cut over forest by a swamp close to the Edisto River. They were hunting out of Deerfield Plantation, Hugh Walters’ hunting lodge in St. George, S.C....
Ringing Anticosti’s Bell

Ringing Anticosti’s Bell

A late November nor’easter bludgeoned Anticosti into patinaed greys and smoky lodens. Squalling bands of horizontal snow bowed tall and scraggly firs hard to lee. Foot thick epaulets of heavy rime worn by branches of stubby spruce would have glisten had there been the...
Anticosti Anticipation

Anticosti Anticipation

L’Île-D’Anticosti has many moods. When fog settles in from the Atlantic, it frowns. Yet on each spruce needle it leaves a diamond. As morning sun melts the mist, each droplet sparkles with increasing joi de vivre. You can see it in the deer. With such hesitancy they...