Turkey Tracks in the Big Cypress

Turkey Tracks in the Big Cypress

When the creatures of the wild were named, the wild turkey should have been christened “Wise Turkey.” The big bird is by nature sociable, and if at times he seems distrustful of human beings, it is because he is quick to recognize a hostile purpose. The Indian hunter...
Grover Cleveland: Our Kind of President

Grover Cleveland: Our Kind of President

Not many years ago, while residing in a non-sporting but delightfully cultured and refined community, I found that considerable indignation had been aroused among certain good neighbors and friends, because it had been said of me that I was willing to associate in the...
Borealis

Borealis

It’s a fairly young river as fair rivers go, born in the mountains of far western Alaska before making its raucous way down from the heights and out across the tundra on its broad braided ramble to the sea. I have never seen its mother lake Kagati, but I know the...
Quicksand & Curses

Quicksand & Curses

Not everything in Africa that tries to kill you is even alive. Well, okay. I’ve since learned that that first sentence is a bit of trumped-up, deltoid-pumping rhetoric. Maybe you’ll forgive me, though, because at the moment it happened, I genuinely believed I would...
The New Russell Safari

The New Russell Safari

Marrying the lightweight comfort of the PH and the performance of the Backcountry, the new Russell Moccasin Safari isn’t just an upgrade, it’s a whole new animal. The Safari is built for Africa, but will probably end up on your feet everyday. Best paired...
Hunting Camp

Hunting Camp

Growing up in rural Texas, in the gravel hills near Cummins Creek just above the Gulf Coast Prairie, hunting, fishing and camping played an important role in my early life. My first real “camp” was my Dad’s enclosed dog trailer, wood walls with a tin roof, all of...
Hunting with Dad

Hunting with Dad

It was 2 o’clock on the afternoon of January 20, 1978, when the agent with the steamship company called my Seattle house to tell me that Jack O’Connor – my mentor, hunting partner and best friend – had just died of an apparent heart attack on the S.S. Mariposa en...
Old Dog

Old Dog

The light in the old dog’s eyes fell, and he dropped loosely back from the gate of the kennel run. He had reared . . . trembling . . . begging with all the equity of his years . . . hoping against hope to go. But the man he adored most in the world had offered only a...