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The Line a Man Draws When Nobody Is Watching
My buddy Travis and I were splitting a case of beer on his tailgate last spring, talking about where we’d go if money ever stopped mattering. I said …
1 month ago
The Bare Hook and a Wad of Bread That Outfished Everything in My Box
I spent forty-one dollars on a single minnow-colored crankbait the week before, and the fish in Boone Creek did not give one single damn about that c…
1 month ago
The Click That Cost Me My First Grouse
The worst sound in the woods is not a twig snapping behind you. It is the click you hear when you squeeze a trigger and the gun does not go off. I fo…
1 month ago
Treestand Practice Is a Lie I Told Myself
I spent all summer shooting flat. That was the problem, only I didn’t know it in September. I’d set up a foam block out back, paced off exactly twent…
1 month ago
The Broadhead I Never Shot Cost Me a Buck
I spent four months telling myself I was ready, and the whole time I was setting up a miss that I could have seen coming a mile away. It was my secon…
1 month ago
You Melt Your Last Lead Into Balls by the Fire and Miss the Only Deer You See for a Week
You wake because the mold is lying empty between your boots, and the morning is cold enough that the last ball of lead you cast last night has a dull…
1 month, 1 week ago
Five Straight Weeks of Skunking Ended When an Old Man Said to Fish Like You Were Late
The first thirty-five days I fished that stretch of river, I did not catch one smallmouth. Not a dink. Not a rock bass that accidentally drifted into…
1 month, 1 week ago
Ten Years of Trusting the Wind on Your Face Reads the Wrong Air
I used to think wind was the only thing that mattered, and the wind was always in my favor, because I checked it once at the truck and then forgot ab…
1 month, 1 week ago
Four Ducks Down, Two Cripples You Refuse to Count, and What Conservation Actually Means
The first duck I ever shot clean dropped straight out of the sky and hit the water with a sound you could hear from the blind, a kind of flat smack, …
1 month, 1 week ago
You’re Four Hundred Miles From a Dentist and the Boy’s Tooth Is Black to the Root. Now Pull It With the Farrier’s Pliers.
The boy has been crying in the wagon for two days, and by the third morning you can hear the sound he makes before the sun is up, a low grinding whim…
1 month, 1 week ago