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Category Archives: Turkey Hunts
My Mouth Grew Dry
The soft cluck left little doubt. The faint “arrkk,” uttered in the forest’s somber stillness, fixed my attention on the crest of the ridge to the east. A yellow maple leaf whipsawed side to side. Others followed. The morning’s wispy … Continue reading
A First Outing
A good-sized black ant ran along my bare thigh, then took refuge inside my buckskin leggin. Its pace slowed, tickling its way to the left, then to the right, just above my knee. Three times it tried to move farther … Continue reading
Posted in Persona, Turkey Hunts
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 A First Outing
Who Are You?
Tiny waves raced to the puddle’s shore. A southwest wind dislodged another drop from a nearby maple branch. More waves followed the little splash in a puddle no bigger than a nice buck’s bed. Catkins hung from a poplar tree. … Continue reading
Hacked Away Years Ago
Morning sun reflected off the tiny creek. The shiny silver band curled close to the big swamp’s edge, then disappeared in the matted canary grass. Unseen cardinals whit-sued to the south, this side of the watering hole. My moccasins crested … Continue reading
Posted in Turkey Hunts
Tagged Dennis Neely, historical trekking, North West trade gun, Northwest trade gun, trade gun, traditional black powder, traditional black powder hunting, traditional blackpowder, traditional blackpowder hunting
Comments Off on Hacked Away Years Ago
And Yes, I Answer!
“That should be enough,” I said, walking to the truck with two big fistfuls of oak leaves pressed against each other. A cold but gentle northwest breeze dislodged a few strays and sent them fluttering on their way. I dumped … Continue reading
Perhaps Another Time
The neighbor’s rooster cackled. A slight easterly breath pushed the morning’s fog. A crow cawed, off to the west, near the nameless creek that meanders through the big swamp. Jerry’s rooster cackled again and again. “Caw, caw.” What sounded like … Continue reading
Returning with but little meat…
Fall slipped away. Three days of intermittent rain and brisk gusts stripped all but the white oaks of their leaves. Overnight the wind subsided, somewhat. An hour after first light, lacy white clouds drifted west, pushed by a chilly northeast … Continue reading
