Binding An Elephant
After long days of hunting with no luck, it finally took a bit of native sorcery to make the difference on an elephant hunt. The flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg provides those unwilling to embrace the charms of Ambien with ample opportunity to think. In point of...
Summer is on the Horizon
Warm days, lots of wading rivers to fly fish and being outdoors are soon to come. While winter seems to be dragging on and on, and the temperature was a single-digit number outside my house — known as The Cameron House to many — the other morning, but I smell summer...
Eastern Panther – Myth, Ghost, Legend
The Lowcountry panther entered my dreams and my life. Haunting me when I slept, quickening my pulse and step when I was alone in the swamps come sundown. Daytimes, the Old Man looked off into middle distance. Nights, he gazed deep into campfire flames. He held us...
The Profound Impact of Hunting
Hunting sculpts intrigue into incomparable adventure, places us center stage, and folds us into the metamorphosis. At the New York office of Blount, Reynolds, and Poirer, the torch of jurisprudence will pass to eager young associates for a spell. The senior partners...
Overly Excited for Bird Hunts
I get excited when I hunt, smell and see birds. Doves, for example, really excite me. There’s lots of shooting, often lots of birds flying and sometimes birds falling when Mike finally hits one on the wing. I get so excited I often start spinning around in...
Rambling Boy and an Island in the Sun
He was a rambling boy. They called him Kid Carolina. Dick Reynolds, officially Robert Joshua Reynolds Jr., born to wealth and privilege. He was the eldest son of the North Carolina tobacco magnate of the same name, the creator of Prince Albert pipe tobacco and Camel...
Seeking and Watching Huns
I like huns. Like, a lot. And bacon. While the past fall hunting season has faded, and next fall is buried behind many pages of the calendar, I still like the opportunity to go out and find birds. My new strong interest is seeking huns, alias Hungarian partridges or...
The Silent Spring of Paint Bank
Folks talk about it still. The nights were the blackest anyone could remember. But there was not a star in the sky. Mountain hollows rang with banjo music. Yet, no one could be found. Each evening at midnight the bell at Humphrey's Chapel tolled ... the rope left...
Betrayal and Death Hunt Unseen
An insensible threat was at fore, a primordial evil. The calico dog stopped dead-still, using the dusky shadows of the bush to secret himself from the revealing glimmer of the building moon. He had the fragile night breeze in his nose. On it had been borne the...
Time for Spring Antler Hunts
It's that time of year, ladies and gentlemen, when we hunt for the hidden gems! While the fall and winter hunting seasons have faded into memory and geese and ducks are starting to reverse their wandering course and now fly north, I have the strong urge to head...