Tag Archives: traditional black powder hunting

“Black powder people are tough…”

A not-so-distant maple tree popped. The sound echoed in the frigid hardwoods. A red-bellied woodpecker grasped a dead oak, moved about the gray, barkless trunk, but never drummed. Disappointment rushed over me. I associate tapping woodpeckers in a barren forest … Continue reading

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“A Cool Coincidence”

Ed Schmidt, editor of Whitetales: The Official Publication of the Minnesota Deer Hunters Association, sent me an email the other day. The Minnesota Deer Hunters Association is a grassroots conservation organization dedicated to the betterment of deer, deer habitat and … Continue reading

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A Helpful Image

Pre-dawn’s silence stoked anticipation’s fire. Fading stars spawned an age-old wanderlust. In the graying darkness, silver dew drops clung to every grass blade, every bough tip, every greening stem. The air smelled clean and fresh, laced with a hint of … Continue reading

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“…it’s not traditional”

Crows cawed to the west; Sandhill cranes chortled to the east. A robin sang “Cheeri-leee, cheeri-leee,” near where the cedar grove meets the meadow grasses. Not long after first-light a wild turkey hen clucked to the north and a bit … Continue reading

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A Time Traveler of Sorts

A hint of brown moved behind a red cedar tree. Brittle leaves clattered overhead. Arteries throbbed. A cool breeze carried the aroma of rotting duff as doubt festered. A dark foreleg stepped, then paused. Heartbeats stacked up like wood corded … Continue reading

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A Hallowed Prize

Lavender clouds reflected off still water. At the small puddle’s far edge, the image of four poplar trees rooted in tawny canary grass mirrored wilderness reality. Beyond, a young deer slipped through the maple saplings, paused at the wild apple … Continue reading

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Too Many Memories…

The brush camp needed work. The humble abode offered shelter for a starry night, but the cedar-bough covering lacked fullness and would never shed even the slightest of showers. The ridge pole and rafters held years of life; the grape … Continue reading

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The Swirling Waters of Uncertainty

A small white spider ran over my moccasin. Canada geese ke-honked off to the east. Witch hazel leaves with pale yellow outer edges and soft green inner hearts fluttered in a cool northwesterly breeze. The air smelled damp and plain … Continue reading

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