“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 in a tiny cloud. He grounded the butt of his Northwest gun, knelt and surveyed… Continue reading “Crazy Thought Time…”

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 an hour after dark, ke-honking as they winged to the River Raisin, deep in the… Continue reading As Needy as Little Kids

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 hill crest. Two steps and a pause… The air smelled warm and dry. “Caw, caw,… Continue reading What the Squirrel Woods Offers…

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, but offered no answers to the woodland mystery. On that late October evening, in the… Continue reading With Disgusted Relief…

Maybe there…

“Urrr—ggoooo! Urrr—ggoooo!” Sandhill cranes sounded a warning, before first light, in the plowed plot behind the Waterman homestead. Damp elk moccasins whisked along the doe trail. A light drizzle pitter-patted. Tree-by-tree, footfall-by-footfall the earthen byway snaked through the young hardwoods. All about, last fall’s cupped leaves held tiny puddles. The distinct smell of wet curs… Continue reading Maybe there…

Searching for the Golden Orb

Two wood ducks whistled, but remained unseen. The hired hunter crouched down as he tucked the bag of duck shot into the deerskin shot pouch that hung on his right side. Light rain drizzled through a humid fog. The air smelled of earthworms and wet oak leaves. The fowls, a hen and a drake, edged… Continue reading Searching for the Golden Orb

Satisfying the Trader’s Cravings

Buffalo-hide moccasins crushed fresh snow. The footfalls laced in and out of the prairie grass at the edge of a small hardwood stand. An early fox squirrel left a remembrance of its jaunt between a hefty red oak and a young white oak. A red squirrel’s whirring, “Churrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, Churrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…” garnered no mind from the morning… Continue reading Satisfying the Trader’s Cravings

Delivering a Woodland Message

Darkness afforded safe passage. Slow and steady, elk moccasins still-hunted along an earthen byway. Warm fog smelled drizzly wet. Silver orbs clung to thin prairie grass. Hunt-stained buckskin leggins dashed the dew from the slender, green blades. Some droplets spattered, some clung, damping leather knee-high. The year was 1792, early May. Beyond the small clearing,… Continue reading Delivering a Woodland Message