Tag Archives: trade gun

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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Forting Up

The hand-hewed stair seemed steeper, the uneven steps higher. Progress proved slow, the staircase being narrow and confining. Trepidation marked each moccasined footfall. A knowing silence fell upon the twenty-five souls, each pondering the fort’s fate, and his or hers, … Continue reading

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North of Laughery Creek

The Laughery Valley tortures flintlocks. The summer heat and high humidity are mostly to blame. The same conditions that foster a gorgeous array of lush spring vegetation humble the flint and steel ignition of my beloved “Old Turkey Feathers.” Spent … Continue reading

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A Thousand Birds

“Old Turkey Feathers’” muzzle parted the prairie grass. A circle of white droppings, not more than a day or two old, stared back. Another roost ring, a few steps to the left betrayed the covey’s habit. My thumb eased the … Continue reading

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Plus or Minus Three-Tenths

Few options remained. Daylight dwindled. Longer strides struck a balance between due care and a swift advance. With each footfall, the day’s tensions eased. The hasty still-hunt followed a well-used doe trail through a small stand of aromatic red cedar … Continue reading

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If I Bargain Hard

The smell of blooming lilacs filled the air. Now and again the fluffy clouds hid the mid-afternoon sun. When it shone, the spring rays warmed my back to the point of sweating. The propane burner uttered a constant, dull, whooshing … Continue reading

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“Wait a while…”

The River Raisin beckons. To the south, the flooded ribbon looks silvery blue, to the north a dull, brownish gray. The broad lily-pad flats seem the dividing line. The air smells of spring’s greening, fresh, clean and leafy. A red-tailed … Continue reading

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