When the Turkeys Busted Loose

When the Turkeys Busted Loose

Me and Poach and the Window Wizard, walking this scrubby sheep pasture west of town. Sheep got buck teeth and clip the grass right down to the dirt. Canada thistle and prickly ash take over, tight clumps around the boulders the glaciers brought when they came and...
Belle Baruch: The Troublesome Child

Belle Baruch: The Troublesome Child

Ever the tomboy, Belle Baruch hunted and fished, chased German spies, surprised her family with equestrian triumphs and scandalous affairs. When it was all done, she willed 17,500 acres for public education.

Adventures in Minnesota’s Black Bear Country

Adventures in Minnesota’s Black Bear Country

They look cute from a distance but up close, they are like a 400-pound racoon. A momma coon may have six or eight coonlets in a year, a bear might have twins, rarely triplets and then only every two years. Cubs are born bald and blind at about a half pound during...
The Steakhouse Stickup

The Steakhouse Stickup

Hugo, Minnesota, straight up U.S. 61, the murderous old two-lane between St. Paul and Duluth. Up and down some timbered red-iron hills, around others, potholed, icy sometimes, frosty others, slick always, so deadly Bob Dylan wrote it into a song: “God said to Abraham,...
Joshua Slocum: Lost At Sea

Joshua Slocum: Lost At Sea

His interests were narrow but deep—deep as the deep blue sea. Joshua Slocum was born to a sea-faring life in 1844, “on a cold spot on coldest North Mountain on a cold February 20,” back when ships were wood and men were iron. His granddaddy was an American Quaker, a...
Confessions of a  Lead-Slinging Luddite

Confessions of a Lead-Slinging Luddite

What if I told you more white-tailed deer have been taken with an 1894 30-30 Winchester than all the other sundry deer hunting cartridges combined? What if I told you that you could hunt worldwide with a battery of only three rifles, a 22 Long Rifle from 1887, a 7...
A Cat and His Hats

A Cat and His Hats

Other hats await, too. Hats I will someday own. I don’t read the girly magazines any longer, but I’m still dog-earing and sweating up the catalogs. The boys blew ashore just a little after four. They had started out in the wee hours aboard the Marsh Hen, a...