Category Archives: Muzzleloaders

“Good to go for the next 150 years…”

“Looks like someone is collecting leaves,” Bob Rubbo said as he picked up the walnut-sized chunk of limestone that anchored the green maple leaves to the loading bench. The top two leaves tumbled along the weathered plank, pushed by a … Continue reading

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“The Mortimer Double”

“Snapshot Saturday”

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“they purchased me a new gun…”

14th November, 1763: Fog shrouded a crimson cardinal’s “whit, whit, tsu, tsu, tsu, tsu.” Now and again a brown oak leaf drifted through the mist. The oaks still held a fair number of their leaves. Crows initiated their first melee … Continue reading

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Oh, What Fun!

Two red-winged blackbirds chortled. One perched on a flimsy red willow in the swamp, and the other sang from the hillside, not that far ahead. A distant “honk, honk, honk…” emanated from the east, and a series of “ke-honks” came … Continue reading

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Learn to Manage the Machine…

A half-rotted maple stump lurked in dark shadows. Elk moccasins whispered over brittle oak leaves, parallel to a doe trail that followed the spine of a narrow strip of land between two impenetrable thickets. A backcountry woodsman stalked tree-to-tree. A … Continue reading

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“A Trade Gun’s First Meat”

“Snapshot Saturday”

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Gifted with an Unexpected Treasure

Half-leafed treetops rustled overhead. Day’s first gray glimmers half-lit the winding wagon trail. Elk moccasins whispered beside the left rut. Around the bend, the predawn stalk struck off on a well-used doe trail that angled northwest. A gentle breeze, perfumed … Continue reading

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“Never say never!”

A finger flipped twice. “Arrkkk…ark,” again the gravel-mouthed hen uttered two soft tones. The finger traced an imaginary line indicating the doe trail that wandered into the red cedar trees. The west face of the hogback ridge, just up from … Continue reading

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