Gloss and Glory

Gloss and Glory

In the 60s it was hip to be bass, and anglers everywhere welcomed a whole new breed of American hero. By 1965, the bassing revolution was at full throttle and re-born bass fishing was rapidly becoming galaxial. It was hip to be bass. Popularity encouraged fraternity...
The Era of Belle

The Era of Belle

Perhaps there truly are angels among us. The journey to the mailbox should have been exciting. There was a flawless, expectant stillness to the air, as if the world held its breath in waiting. Dense, leaden clouds layered the bottom of an ashen sky, leaving the fields...
A Thing of Dying

A Thing of Dying

In the 89th year of his being, Ben Willow had died where most completely he had lived, upon the hills of home, with a dog and a gun. A little less than midway through this book, iron-willed old Missouri-West Virginian Ben Willow throws himself mercilessly once more...
Does It Still Happen?

Does It Still Happen?

Words and values were their greatest legacy — the outdoors their greatest gift. Tell me. Do kids somewhere still grow up with Cochise, Robin Hood and William Tell, rather than the Terminator and Robo-Cop? Do they still forge blood-brother pacts with the Ogalala Sioux?...
The Profound Impact of Hunting

The Profound Impact of Hunting

Hunting sculpts intrigue into incomparable adventure, places us center stage, and folds us into the metamorphosis. At the New York office of Blount, Reynolds, and Poirer, the torch of jurisprudence will pass to eager young associates for a spell. The senior partners...
The Silent Spring of Paint Bank

The Silent Spring of Paint Bank

Folks talk about it still. The nights were the blackest anyone could remember. But there was not a star in the sky. Mountain hollows rang with banjo music. Yet, no one could be found. Each evening at midnight the bell at Humphrey’s Chapel tolled … the rope left...
Betrayal and Death Hunt Unseen

Betrayal and Death Hunt Unseen

An insensible threat was at fore, a primordial evil. The calico dog stopped dead-still, using the dusky shadows of the bush to secret himself from the revealing glimmer of the building moon. He had the fragile night breeze in his nose. On it had been borne the...
When It Is Enough

When It Is Enough

We would hunt one last time in the morning, one last time before he went away. I would gift that to myself. How swiftly and irreversibly, Danny’s season had arrived. From the day almost 10 years before, when first I had invested a portion of my heart in a fledgling...
A Prayer from Dark Timber

A Prayer from Dark Timber

The wisdom of the father, the wonder of the son, Wander together, ’til this life is done- And comes time to remember, all that was one. As I lie dying, if I’ve yet the mind to know, Where I’ve been, and how I came, and why I’ll hate to go, Then spare me a few minutes...
Shadows on the Hills

Shadows on the Hills

It is at the edge of dark, that pandemonium erupts. One day, I want to shoot a buffalo. With paces between us, facing his dare. I want to know for once before I die, even if on the day I die, the tremble of doubt and the taste of fear. It is only just, before all I...