Aim of the Hunterman

Aim of the Hunterman

Pitted with rust and powder-scalds, the old musket would explode with a roar that sounded like the crack of doom. And now, in the dusky hands of the Hunterman, it was all that stood between life and a terrible death. The negroes in the golden-wide ricefield, as they...

Why I Taught My Boys to be Hunters

Why I Taught My Boys to be Hunters

I have said that my hunting has often been solitary; but that was chiefly in the early days. During the last 25 years, I have rarely taken to the woods and fields in the shooting season without having one or more of my own sons with me. Few human relationships are...

Culmination

Culmination

Ancient walls of huge, dry-stacked, weather-worn boulders hint at a distant past and parallel us as we travel through crisp morning air along a sandy, sun-dappled road toward our shooting pegs. They look European. Beyond the stone walls, giant hardwoods rise over the...

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