Nooners
Over his 70 years of pursing whitetails, the author has shot a surprising number of mature bucks while his hunting partners were back in camp eating lunch.
Roaning Burkina Faso
Our tracker pointed his steel-tipped spear at the lion’s spoor. Pug marks indicated the big cat was headed toward the verdant creek bottom that starkly contrasted with the khaki and brown that surrounded us. Green trees indicated the serpentine creek flowed toward the...
El fatasma del cepillo… Or The Ghost of the Brush
“What do you mean he was a ghost deer?” TC inquired. Before Roberto could answer, TC asked: “Did you shoot at him and he disappeared when you thought the bullet should have hit him?” “Noooo! You weren’t listening, were you?” said Roberto. “I said that I watched him...
I’ll Take Desert Mule Deer… For a Lifetime
It started simple enough, a long time ago. Even now, after the passage of several decades, I am still caught in its clutches. And I love it! My lifelong addiction to hunting desert mule deer began even before I could read the high desert tales of hunting great stags...
A Slithery Bedmate
Texas’ Wild Horse Desert is home to many things that stick, prick, bite and a few that “slither,” but also a land of “change.” It was here aboriginal tribes were forever changed with the arrival of the shipwrecked Spanish explorer, Cabeza de Vaca and a small handful...
Fallow
“What two species of deer do you think have been introduced to more continents than any other?” Asked Scandinavian Prohunter’s Stefan Bengtsson. “Hmmmm…it would have to be either red deer or fallow deer based on my personal experience. I’ve hunted introduced red stag...
The Magic Quarter
“Son, I’ve got something for ya,” said the grizzled hunter, poking our late November campfire and sending ember offerings and prayers to the Man Upstairs. I had known my friend ever since I was a tyke, and I always called him Uncle John, even though he was not among...
A Copper Sky
“Not unlike the shine and hue of a newly minted penny!” The remark came a voice beneath a properly worn and worn well brown felt hat. “Spect there’s a harsh wind blowing across the western plains. Likely will be getting here around near dark, about the time Venus...
When the Hounds Bark Treed
“They’re treed! Let’s go, let’s go, lets go!” shouted my dad while taking off at a fast trot. I did my best to follow. My six-year-old legs were not long enough to equal my Dad’s stride, but I followed as best I could at a near all-out run. Soon, Dad was a hundred...
Moving Forward
I was crawling, attempting to get close to a majestic red sheep.