-
Recent Posts
Categories
Archives
- November 2020
- October 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- June 2020
- May 2020
- April 2020
- April 2019
- March 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- December 2018
- November 2018
- October 2018
- September 2018
- August 2018
- July 2018
- June 2018
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- February 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- November 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
Blogroll
Forums
General Living History
Historical Sites
Organizations
Artists


Category Archives: Stories
Feeling a True Kinship
A fox squirrel’s bushy tail flicked, then vanished. A black oak’s welted bark pressed hard against the hunting shirt’s linen shoulder. The tail reappeared, head-high, on the backside of an arching red oak, then disappeared. A slight breeze rustled what … Continue reading
Posted in Living History, Squirrel Hunts, Worth thinking about...
Tagged Dennis Neely, historical trekking, North West trade gun, Northwest trade gun, traditional black powder, traditional black powder hunting, traditional blackpowder, traditional blackpowder hunting
Comments Off on Feeling a True Kinship
“Follow the pair…”
Gentle, cautious footfalls avoided a tumble. A lone rabbit track teased, emerging from under a stump, then rounding a bushy cedar tree. My winter moccasins shuffled in a joyous, yet measured pursuit. The track angled downhill, straight at a toppled … Continue reading
“They’re still wild animals…”
Buffalo hoof prints pocked the frozen trace. Wool-lined moccasins crunched and crackled and slid about on the old snow in the near-zero January cold. Partway up a rolling knob a woodsman’s fur-backed mitten signaled for his two companions to halt. … Continue reading
Posted in Buffalo, Scenarios
Tagged Dennis Neely, historical trekking, North West trade gun, Northwest trade gun, traditional black powder, traditional black powder hunting, traditional blackpowder, traditional blackpowder hunting
Comments Off on “They’re still wild animals…”
“I followed up the animal…”
A deer’s head bobbed up in the poison sumac and marsh elders. Its ears flicked front to back to front. It looked side to side displaying noticeable concern, then disappeared in the thick wet snow that clung to every twig … Continue reading
The familiar words came easy…
A cold fall rain turned to blowing snow. The lingering fall slipped away in two days’ time. Soft ground froze firm. A thin layer of white carpeted the glade. Except for the crows and a blue jay or two, silence … Continue reading
Two Unexpected Arrivals
Morning dawned without a sunrise; night succumbed to a hazy, dull gray. In due time, a roosted wild turkey, treed to the north, uttered a hushed putt. Another bird, perched high in a leafless red oak across the narrows, whispered … Continue reading
“An unfortunate soul died…”
A roosted hen turkey fidgeted overhead. A starry night sky, grayed by a full moon that hung 3 o’clock high over the western horizon, backlit the bird’s sleek black shape. Bony legs stepped sideways. Skeleton-like toes flexed as they gripped … Continue reading
An Unmistakable Badge
A fine buck’s fresh blood stained the leggin’s top. Dark burgundy-colored spots, flung in a tussle with a young tom turkey a few days earlier, dotted the front of my linen hunting shirt. Reddish-brown blotches marked the shirt’s dirty hem-fringe. … Continue reading