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SLIDE GUITAR

She asks Tell me, sad eyes What would it take to get a dance? I don’t answer My silence doesn’t register as an answer She asks again I...

FORE

We don’t golf on no steenking golf course. We’re too busy catching bass and laughing at your drives.

PISS & MOAN

12 bass. 2 hours. The wall of brambles guarding the 1/2-acre farm pond ate my lunch. But that’s how it goes when you play the game. And...

WEEKEND SORTIES

The school bus comes every weekday morning at twelve after eight. It stops out front of the house, pausing traffic in both directions for...

JAILBIRD

By quarter-to-six the decoys looked perfect in the field out front of the blind, a coyote had drifted across the field like a sneaky...

MAY ONE. DAY ONE.

Less than a couple weeks. That’s what I’ve got left of the day job. That’s all that’s left of the twice daily auto-pilot-and-iPod-mix of...

IN PRAISE OF SMELT

Smelt are the great equalizer. It doesn’t rightly matter if you’re rich or redneck or a combination of the two, when they’re running,...

WE’RE VIKINGS, SUCKA

We dig Spring. As a matter of fact this year we did a whole bunch of celebrating and out-of-door reveling the day before Spring arrived...

FRONTIER

I’m tired of small spaces. I’m not talking about my space at work…although I am definitely tired of that too. I’m talking about our woods...

DIRT & WORMS

It’s back. Hot damn it’s back. Two steps out the door at lunch and it hit me like a ton of bricks. We’ve turned the corner. The nose...

BECAUSE

Cold is no excuse. There’s not an hour in the woods or on the water worth rolling over after the alarm and slinking up behind 4 a.m.’s...

OF BLOOD AND BOWS

The family tree on my dad’s side is planted in Canada. Winnipeg specifically. But we’re only able to follow our blood back so far before...

LATE GOOSE, DAY 2

There’s a measure of insanity, I suppose, in the psychology of the late season goose hunter. The first couple days of ridiculous wind and...

LATE GOOSE, DAY 1

After two months of watching thousands, nay, tens-of-thousands fly care-free over the Upstate countryside–the season for freezing in...

WHEN THE SNOW FLIES

My last-minute run to the woods to fill my tag with a big buck was not thought out particularly well. I dressed warm, threw my pack,...

BASIC

5:30 a.m. Rain, low/mid 40’s August 28, 1990, my 18th birthday Ft. Leonard Wood, MO Up at that hour, I wished I was getting my gear...

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