The Old Songs

The Old Songs

Sing me the old songs. Tell me the stories of times gone by. I want to spend an evening or so with you to hear about your dogs. I want to see your guns. I want to read your favorite books. I want to warm my hands in front of your fire and try     your pipe tobacco and...

Three Boys and a Cannon Barrel

Three Boys and a Cannon Barrel

It was a Federal Criminal Conspiracy: three boys, a cannon barrel and scaup to drive them crazy. The saltwater scaup are mostly gone now, but back when I was a boy they would raft offshore, a thousand, ten thousand at a time. It would take a booming gale to get them...

Requiem for a Peregrine

Requiem for a Peregrine

Everything about the peregrine falcon is spectacular — even in death. "One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds." – Aldo Leopold Early one evening toward the end of April, my English setter, Tina, and I were on the...

Woodcock Days

Woodcock Days

The best hunting spots are secrets among friends, where a bird in the bag is just a bonus. A mist conceals these mountains. They are gray like bone. The sun will not rise above them for another hour, and yet it is eight o'clock. This is a favorite spot. I find...

Ruffed Grouse Are Not Gentlemen

Ruffed Grouse Are Not Gentlemen

Ruffed grouse are survivalists, like anything wild. Keen masters of escape, Houdini had nothing on them. I’ve had them use the back door too many times to think it’s chance. And when that door is covered, they fly out the side window. I am convinced they thumb their...

Getting Socrates Drunk

Getting Socrates Drunk

Stuck for a name, we had it when Uncle Harry christened the stray pup “Socrates,” given his proclivity to poison himself. Worse than a baby in a bathroom cabinet, right from the git-go he liked stuff he shouldn’t and revealed a fatal attraction for everything liquid....

Mr. Detwiler: A Ghostly Grouse Hunt

Mr. Detwiler: A Ghostly Grouse Hunt

Who was this strange old man who handled a shotgun like no one I'd ever seen? When I first saw him, I tried to duck back into the pines, but he raised his hand in greeting and I was stuck. All the while he was coming on over through the hawthorns, I cussed under my...

Birds on the Wing

Birds on the Wing

“When you have shot one bird flying, you have shot all birds flying. They are all different and they fly in different ways but the sensation is the same and the last one is as good as the first.” Before I was old enough to own a gun, wild game came to me via a boyhood...

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