There are some who can live without wild things, and some who cannot . . . This is a story for those who cannot. In 1927 Crazy Ernie, Kid Al and my dad won a hunting shack in a poker game and lost their hearts to a swamp. In a remote northwoods clearing stood a...

A veteran prospector, Hatheway was heading out from camp to stir something up for the pot. It had somehow become his task to put food on the table at the small mining camp. He was the oldest and felt somewhat responsible to use his shooting skills to keep the stewpot...

As the amber leaves of autumn cascade, so does Wren & Ivy’s newest collection. Discover products crafted with passion, echoing the elegance of yesteryears while embracing the conveniences of today. Just like those cherished moments before dawn on a hunt, this...

The bull appears to be staring straight through me. I can smell his muskiness, and I’m thinking that he must be able to smell me too. He continues to walk toward me as if he is going to greet me and introduce me to his herd. He’s bigger than I ever imagined and walks...

Oh, man, it was big. Actually, he was big, a mature, bull Cape buffalo. If you knocked off the tickbirds and caught him as he stepped out of the shower, he was a light heavyweight of 1,800 pounds. That number hadn’t really meant anything to me until I’d beheld him...

For two bone-chilling days, he pursued the rams unrelentingly, from dawn to dark, scaling precipitous cliffs, inching across narrow ledges and sliding down icy slopes. March 9. While climbing the mountains the past few days, I had been uncomfortable because of warmer...