March 29, 2021 That which once was wild within me is increasingly becoming domesticated.
August 28, 2020 Because stories are meant to be shared. And hunts are meant to be celebrated.
July 6, 2020 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.
June 15, 2020 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.
June 8, 2020 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.
May 25, 2020 Rumors of his existence were almost as rare as sightings, and because the few that did catch a glimpse of him were afraid to admit it lest they be counted crazy, most men lived in the bliss of ignorance.
May 22, 2020 If I could cross the open ground in front of me without being spotted, I might still have a chance. If not, I would have wasted three hours of afternoon and three hundred feet of elevation.
May 18, 2020 I had just calmed my breathing and corralled my heart rate, convinced that my eyes were playing tricks on me, when the jake began to speak.
May 11, 2020 Here in Oklahoma, we listen to classic country. Country-and-western country. Willie-and-Waylon-and-the-boys country. So do the birds we hunt.
May 4, 2020 I pulled the trigger on my twelve gauge when he was just seventeen yards away, partly because he was well within range but mostly because I was sick of listening to him.