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We don’t hunt to take life. We hunt to find it.

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Category: Small Game

Who’s the Turkey Now?
Small Game

Who’s the Turkey Now?

Seems like they’d be easy to kill, doesn’t it? Only those that’ve never done it think so. I hunt the stinking things every spring, and at least once a season, I’m the one that winds up looking like the turkey. Continue reading Who’s the Turkey Now?

An Embarrassment of Opportunities
Big Game, Small Game

An Embarrassment of Opportunities

It took a trip to Germany and a conversation with a man who’s hunted all over the world to make me realize just how blessed I am to be a sportsman in Oklahoma. Continue reading An Embarrassment of Opportunities

It’s a Sin to Kill a Mockingbird . . . Or Is It?
Small Game

It’s a Sin to Kill a Mockingbird . . . Or Is It?

It was the last call he made that made me turn and run for the safety of civilization. Continue reading It’s a Sin to Kill a Mockingbird . . . Or Is It?

Banking Fire
Big Game, Small Game

Banking Fire

That which once was wild within me is increasingly becoming domesticated. Continue reading Banking Fire

“The Old Girl Had a Good Run.”
Small Game

“The Old Girl Had a Good Run.”

“That boat would sink with all the memories I had in it.” Continue reading “The Old Girl Had a Good Run.”

That Dog’ll Hunt
Small Game

That Dog’ll Hunt

I’ve known men to agonize more over naming a bird dog than naming their own children. Continue reading That Dog’ll Hunt

Where The Wind Blows
Small Game

Where The Wind Blows

It’s the wind that we outdoorsmen well and truly despise. Continue reading Where The Wind Blows

Birthright
Small Game

Birthright

I was given a gift given in celebration of my birth, but it wasn’t until the spring of my 44th year, this year, that I finally claimed it. Continue reading Birthright

What’s in a Memory?
Small Game

What’s in a Memory?

Like many hunters, I depend on the successes of spring to get me through summer. The memory of a dewy April morning often eases the misery of a scorching August afternoon. Continue reading What’s in a Memory?

Altar Call
Small Game

Altar Call

The hens were still gossiping and the gobblers were still boasting when I stepped up to the pulpit, but they quieted quickly when I cleared my throat. Continue reading Altar Call

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