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A Summer of Practice Collapsed When the First Buck Stepped Out
I put a hundred arrows into a foam target last summer and called it practice. I shot every evening after work, same three yardages, same flat yard, s…
1 month, 2 weeks ago
The Axle Is Singing, the Nearest Blacksmith Is Two Hundred Miles Behind You. Now Fix It With a Green Pole and Wet Rawhide.
You know the axle is breaking before it breaks, because the wagon starts to sing. It is late May, 1849, on the south side of the Sweetwater, and the …
1 month, 2 weeks ago
The Fish Was On, the Knot Was Old, and the River Kept Both
The first fish I ever lost out of my own pride was a smallmouth I am still mad about, and it had nothing to do with the fish. It had to do with a bai…
1 month, 2 weeks ago
Hunting Zones Explained: Which Rules Actually Apply Where You Hunt?
Your license is valid. The season is open. You are standing on public land with a tag in your pocket, and you can still be hunting illegally. That is…
1 month, 2 weeks ago
The Prettiest Spots on Public Land Are Empty for a Reason
My first opening day on public land, I did what every guy with a four-wheel drive and a false sense of confidence does. I got to the parking lot at f…
1 month, 2 weeks ago
A Feral Hog Is Not a Deer, and the First One You Clean Proves It
The call came at six in the morning from a man named Darrell who owns the bottom field on the other side of the creek. He didn’t say hello. He said, …
1 month, 2 weeks ago
The Shot You Regret for Six Years Starts at Last Light
The first deer I ever shot, I shot in the guts. I was twenty-two, shaking so hard the crosshair wouldn’t sit still, and the doe was forty yards out i…
1 month, 2 weeks ago
You Missed Low Because the Hill Lied
I dialed that buck at 45 yards and watched my arrow sail clean under his chest. Clean under, the way a ball rolls off a pool table you didn’t mean to…
1 month, 2 weeks ago
You Come Out of the Mountains One Horse Short and Two Hundred Miles From the Next Post. Now Do the Arithmetic.
You wake before light because the chestnut mare is down. It is early June, 1848, on the north bank of the North Platte, and the sound that pulled you…
1 month, 2 weeks ago
Great-Grandfather’s Leather Folder, Recipe No. 17: Poke Sallet
The last page of the folder is the plainest one in the whole stack. No stain where a pot sat, no torn corner, no drawing of a wing or a fin pressed i…
1 month, 2 weeks ago