Wintersong
You will always be my children; I will always be your pa.
A Man In Full: Roosevelt’s Early Years
Young Theodore Roosevelt wasn’t exactly the strong, confident leader of American history that we know today. Like many of us, Little Teedy started small. Young Theodore Roosevelt, or “Little Teedy,” was a sickly child and the doctors didn’t offer...
At Home on the Range
The scud stacked up over the northeast, a gray washboard above the sea, to the horizon and beyond. Too late for a hurricane, but the wind didn’t care. Raindrops big as dimes on roofing tin and window glass, a racket like the devil beating some hellish rhythm on a...
Whiskey and Palaver at the Dying of the Sun
Moses threw another load of sticks upon the coals. The fire crackled, sparks flew and smoke rolled. Zambia, in the valley of the Great Zambezi. Out on the sandbars, hippos were grunting up dates, a-hunka-hunka-hunka. A leopard coughed in the gathering dark and the...
The Trophy Cost More Than the Fish
A fisherman can spend a lot of time and money on his trophy, even a plastic one.
Voodoo Sheriff’s Colt
We had a voodoo sheriff when I was coming up. He and Pappy were best friends. Ed McTeer turned to the black arts to extract confessions and make himself bullet-proof. It served him well one night when a desperado cut loose in some dim-lit island juke joint, five shots...
Dowsing, Ducks, Dynamite and Damnation
I felt the shockwave through my feet before I heard the thunderclap explosion. Mud flew, water ran and two days later, I had a new pond. Brothers and Sisters, I am a water witch. Water witching, dousing, doodle-bugging— call it what you will, finding unseen things...
All Writers Are Liars
All writers are liars, whether reef-fishing miles offshore on the Atlantic or fishing through a hole in the north country ice. The smokestack of the hulk gloomed from the depths, barely visible when the July sun ricocheted off the surface of the sea. Halfway to the...
Greatest North American Hunting Trip Ever
It was the greatest North American hunting trip ever, though the men’s survival was always in doubt. Fall of 1804, Meriwether Lewis was halfway up the Missouri, St. Louis to Great Falls, though he could not name the Great Falls until he had seen them, yet many months...