Snowflakes stuck to “Old Turkey Feathers’” barrel, yet the Northwest gun remained still. The small six-ponter stepped closer and closer, cross-wind, eighteen paces distant, on the mid-trail, down a steep slope. Large white flakes drifted earthward in the calm gray of first light. Crystalline beauty coated the crimson, four-point wool trade blanket, which smelled of… Continue reading “…no thought for the morrow…”
“Crossing Through Time’s Portal”
“Snapshot Saturday”
“Wild Turkey Music at Sunrise”
“Snapshot Saturday”
“That won’t work on an actual hunt…”
First light ushered in a volley of musket fire. The muzzle blasts, five in all, echoed up and down the River Raisin. A minute or so later, a second unsettling exchange erupted well to the north—four shots, a pause, then two…then three blasts. On that humble morn, in the Year of our Lord, 1794, a… Continue reading “That won’t work on an actual hunt…”
“River Bottom Buck”
“Snapshot Saturday”
It’s All Based on Experience
Grayed, brittle branches offered scant cover. That red cedar tree toppled eastward many winters before; a heavy wet snow uprooted it. Back then the boughs were thick and lush and provided a formidable palisade. A few judicious whacks with a sharp-edged tomahawk cut an ample nest. Again, on a cold December morn, a brisk northwest… Continue reading It’s All Based on Experience
“A Ranger’s Pause”
“Snapshot Saturday”
“Walking in at Sunrise”
“Snapshot Saturday”