The Bob-Tailed Doe

The Bob-Tailed Doe

You have no idea how many times she’s messed me up, mere moments before I was about to shoot a buck. “She’s at it again, or should I say still!” scowled my brother Glenn. “Showed up at my creek blind this morning. She came quartering in, up wind. Soon as she stepped...

First Deer for Wyatt

First Deer for Wyatt

A bit before dawn, Wyatt Grimmelt and his dad, Tony, had been delivered to their stand along a logging road through a cut over forest by a swamp close to the Edisto River. They were hunting out of Deerfield Plantation, Hugh Walters’ hunting lodge in St. George, S.C....

Long Live the King

Long Live the King

Rather than disrespecting a trophy, a bit of tasteful decoration can help to establish him as part of the family. For seven summers, the king enjoyed the adoration of his subjects, the ladies of his court literally fawning before him. His graying cape was stretched...

Canada Pays Hunters To Kill Moose

Canada Pays Hunters To Kill Moose

Canada pays hunters to shoot moose? Just when I think I’ve got modern Homo sapiens figured out, they muddy the waters. Consider the $731,000 Canadians have spent hiring First Nations people — Mi’kmaq hunters, according to the news report I read — to “hunt” moose that...

Not Your Average Outdoor Influencer

Not Your Average Outdoor Influencer

In the age of social media, few outdoor accounts truly stand out and leave one feeling inspired. In an increasingly crowded space, authenticity is quite rare. The rise of outdoor influencers has equally good and bad consequences—with the latter getting more attention....

Ringing Anticosti’s Bell

Ringing Anticosti’s Bell

A late November nor’easter bludgeoned Anticosti into patinaed greys and smoky lodens. Squalling bands of horizontal snow bowed tall and scraggly firs hard to lee. Foot thick epaulets of heavy rime worn by branches of stubby spruce would have glisten had there been the...