Author Archives: Dennis Neely: Traditional Woodsman

The Gobbler Roasts the Same

Buffalo-hide moccasins still-hunted north. Intermittent gusts dislodged snow. At the wild apple that grew on the south edge of the cedar grove, wild turkey tracks zigged and zagged in and out of the border trees. Msko-waagosh stood, his eyes unraveling … Continue reading

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“It looks too new…”

Deer ears twitched. A second pair, not as alert, plodded behind, then paused. The larger doe watched, then nibbled on a tender twig. She commenced walking north on the mid-hill trail with what little wind there was at her rump. … Continue reading

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“The Finest British Soap…”

Cinnamon-colored hair rippled. A white tail flicked twice. Green oak leaves fluttered, coaxed alive by a warm, southwest breeze. The doe browsed on lush, belly-deep, dew-laden prairie grass. Yellow spears burst forth from the eastern tree line. Long shadows shrouded … Continue reading

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As Seasons Pass

Soft crunches…a steady cadence…upwind… Msko-waagosh paused. A foreleg stepped with no sound, a crackle, then the left foreleg stepped. An ear twitched. The doe’s head disappeared behind a thick oak tree. The returned white captive, taught the ways of the … Continue reading

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“Crazy Thought Time…”

A Tad Late Tuesday Missive… Three deer matted frail grass. The largest depression rested higher up the hill than the other two—bedding not more than the night prior. “A doe and her fawns,” the hired hunter whispered, his breath drifting … Continue reading

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As Needy as Little Kids

Wet corn stubble perfumed still air. A full moon, white and mellow, high to the west, guided buffalo-hide moccasins through dawn’s first glimmer. The night prior, before the drizzle, forty-plus geese gathered on the cornfield’s eastern-most knob. They took flight … Continue reading

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What the Squirrel Woods Offers…

Two steps and a pause… Three huge red oak trees with short trunks and broad, spreading limbs stood on the next ridge west. Two steps and a pause… A host of tall, slender oaks, progeny of the three, populated the … Continue reading

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With Disgusted Relief…

Inquisitive fingers felt splintered openings. Msko-waagosh shook his head in amazement, the sulfurous stench of spent black powder still in his nostrils. Lead shot holes, shoulder-high on the returned white captive, peppered the barkless trunk of a dead red oak, … Continue reading

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