Nothing To Do for Three Weeks

Nothing To Do for Three Weeks

I left long before daylight, alone but not lonely. Sunday-morning stillness filled the big city. It was so quiet that I heard the whistle of duck wings as I unlocked the car door. There would be ducks leaving Lake Michigan. A fine sound, that, early of a morning. Wild...
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...
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...
One American’s Dream

One American’s Dream

Even as a Marine stationed in Afghanistan, Alex Russo never stopped dreaming of becoming a waterfowl guide. If there are any two places on our diverse planet more dissimilar than Kabul, Afghanistan, and Aberdeen, South Dakota, I can’t imagine where they could be. The...
Man-Eaters: Tiger, Tiger, in the Night

Man-Eaters: Tiger, Tiger, in the Night

Elsewhere, man-eaters were quickly shot. In Corbett’s India, they kept killing. Deeply rutted pads and a cleft across the right forefoot distinguished the prints of the eldest cat. The toes were also exceptionally long. By February 1929, the tigers – by their sign an...
The Ghost of Arthur Woody

The Ghost of Arthur Woody

Duncan Dobie tells of Arthur Woody, a visionary character for forest and wildlife restoration extraordinaire in the early 20th century mountain ranges of Northern GA. The sudden spring thunderstorm stopped almost as quickly as it had started. It blew...
Ernest Hemingway: The Final Years (1950-1961)

Ernest Hemingway: The Final Years (1950-1961)

Despite the promise of great upland and waterfowl hunting, dear friends and a place where Ernest could escape fame and work without interruption, Mary and Papa Hemingway did not return to Idaho until the fall of 1958. During the intervening decade, Ernest spent...