Grouse In The Heather
Gordon, my loader, was a strong-looking older man of upright bearing, with full, florid cheeks and a friendly smile. He was responsible for me, my safety, my shotgun and shells. Gordon guided me to and from the butts and, although carrying my gun and shells, still had...
Mourning the Miramichi
Three friends of mine were on the Northwest Miramichi at the beginning of August. They fished for five days and did not see an Atlantic salmon. Not an adult fish, a grilse, or a parr. For five days on a storied Atlantic salmon branch of the Miramichi they cast in...
Yellowbills at Dawn
When upland bird hunters think of Argentina, they dream of no-limit dove hunts. Waterfowlers on the other hand dream of South American duck and twenty five-bird limits — limits not seen in the United States since Nash Buckingham was a young man. I’d read Mr....
The Crunch of Ice
Spring fishing on the Miramichi means dodging drifting ice.
Blind Sides
Spring snow goose hunting can be a lengthy affair. All day in a blind – either flat on your back in a lay-down or on a chair in a tepee blind.
Pheasant in New Hampshire
New Hampshire Pheasant shoot.
A Hatful of Memories
It may be worn and faded, but there’s more to a good hat than what meets the eye.
Three Generations, Pt. 3
Leaving Scotland, but not empty-handed.
Three Generations, Pt. 2
Four days of bird hunting on the Scottish moors.