Tag Archives: North West trade gun

A Magnificent Memory

A gray nose poked from the deep green grass. A cunning eye, attentive ears and a sleek, lean body burst from the left. The Jeep’s brake pads gripped the rotors firm, but not hard enough to squeal tires. A second … Continue reading

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An Alternate Choice

Light rain spit. The sky appeared thick, gray and ominous. The air smelled sticky and humid. My bare shoulders and upper arms felt sweaty and damp as I tugged at the heel of my left buckskin moccasin, one of a … Continue reading

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Exhausting All Possibilities

The search resumed at dawn. Frost-tipped cedar boughs dotted the steep hillside. Night’s cold, clear sky turned azure, and in a short while, yellow streaks of sunlight crept over the little valley. On that crisp November morn, I made no … Continue reading

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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

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Mind if I Look?

“Do you mind if I take a look?” a traditional woodsman asked, lifting the leather strap of my shot pouch from “Old Turkey Feathers’” muzzle as it rested against a white oak tree. “I’d like to see what you carry.” … Continue reading

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“What if” Cogitations

Deer flies swarmed. Mosquitoes the size of hickory nuts lit on the back of my left hand. I could not swat without tucking the Northwest gun under my armpit, and I presumed the little beasties knew that. That morning, in … Continue reading

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At the Little Bend

Abundant spring rains brought lush summer growth. A warm July night, in the Year of our Lord, 1795, produced a dense morning fog. Moisture dripped from every leaf, every bough, every sprig and sprout. My linen trade shirt felt damp, … Continue reading

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“Never Been Outdoors!”

Stars sparkled in a moonless heaven. Wool-lined moccasins whisked through the fluffy snow. Years ago an ice storm tipped a good-sized cedar tree to the south, just shy of the ridge crest. I paused there to adjust the four-point scarlet … Continue reading

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