Welcome to Dogtown

Welcome to Dogtown

Next to the dirt road was a field full of a tangly mix of broomstraw, wire- and lovegrass. A thick column of switch cane revealed the seep running along the back side.  Off in the distance I could see the cotton in the neighboring farm’s field. It was so white that,...
New Dogs, New Challenges

New Dogs, New Challenges

There is a certain knitting together of warmish air temperature and moisture in the environment that forces the upland bird hunter to pick his poison. A “wardrobe dilemma,” you might call it. You can dress to prevent the moisture—in the form of rain and/or wet...
Oh, Lucky Man! Sigbot “Bodo” Winterhelt

Oh, Lucky Man! Sigbot “Bodo” Winterhelt

Na, ja, my father hated all hunting and hunters. He didn’t understand. He thought, first of all, that all they did was destroy, and my father lived only to preserve things. And hunters in Germany wear a uniform, green loden cloth, you know, and my father hated...
The Phantom Setter

The Phantom Setter

Originally published in The Saturday Evening Post in 1961, this story is one of the finest ever written about gundogs and grouse hunting. It is certainly the most chilling.

A Door in the Woods

A Door in the Woods

“Good boy, Rex, easy now. Whoa on the bird!” The gathering gloaming of the approaching evening made it rather difficult to see what I was doing as I fought my way through the wicked tangle of greenbrier vines draped across the dense trees in front of me. I struggled...
Socrates Becomes a Hunter

Socrates Becomes a Hunter

A boy’s dog named Soc finally proves his worth as a gundog by flushing pheasants for the boy and his uncle. That first spring together evolved into a long, hot summer, seemingly endless for a boy hankering for his first pheasant season. Sweating through chores,...
The Price of a Dog: Part 3 of 3

The Price of a Dog: Part 3 of 3

Part Three: The Devil’s Money Click Here to Read Part Two When I arrived home, I was excited to tell Mother about the double and, of course, the twelve-hundred dollars. I removed the rubber band and began counting the money onto the kitchen table. “…eight-hundred,...
Once in The Stilly Night

Once in The Stilly Night

It plum tickled his perversity to jist think ’bout chasin’ rarecoons. A classic from the November, 1935, issue of Field & Stream. Dud Dean held the empty frying pan over the glowing coals of our little fire. The fat caught, flared and burned out. After that burst...