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On The Trail
A Greenfield Meadows bear that tore up five plastic-wrapped hay bales a couple of weeks ago in the Greenfield Meadows heads out of Dodge after several cars slowed to watch it and one man even rolled down his window and yelled at him to stop messing with his farmer firend's hay bales.
Submitted photo

On the Trail: Photo finish

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

I can’t claim shock because I had an idea a neighbor or random passerby had probably seen that bear my dogs and I recently jumped out of a narrow strip of wetland before it tore up five plastic-covered hay bales nestled along an adjacent tree line above. In fact, I was confident additional information would come my way. Hey, maybe … 0

On the Trail: Summer mode

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

It started early last week with a startling sound, an invisible burst of energy, a rumble in the jungle, a rustling, brush- and stick-busting sprint by something near and heavy fleeing up the escarpment from a narrow wetland framing the northwestern perimeter of Sunken Meadow. It was a Tuesday morning and the dogs and I were working our way around a large sumac … 0

On The Trail: Oxbow summit

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

It’s a hot, hazy mid-afternoon, storm threatening, me standing atop Mt. Sugarloaf, a Pioneer Valley landmark whose summit view never gets old to an old guy who climbed it often as a kid. Standing beside me on the lower tier of the observation tower is Dr. Marjorie Holland, a scholar passing through old haunts from her current Ole Miss station, where she teaches … 0

Airy distractions

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Whew! What a week, what a day and, finally, here I sit at my favorite perch, one distraction after another keeping me away Monday and Tuesday. Still, the Spartan walnut chair softened by a thick red cushion is comfy, and life is good. The tall clock just struck … 0

Autumn breeze

Thursday, August 15, 2013

The chimney sweep’s come and gone, a half-moon shines and fall is in the air. Ah, what a difference a day makes. Just another miracle of the life we take for granted, a life governed by nature and wicked, greedy, cookie-cutter men pulling diabolical strings. But why dwell … 0

Stinkbait cider

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Fruit season is upon us along with the Full Sturgeon Moon, said to be a blue moon despite being the only full moon we’ll see this month. Why? Well, occasionally we have an extra, fourth moon during a three-month season and it and the one that follows are … 0

Airing it out

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Finally, my bird-hunting gear is hanging in the open carriage shed. I pulled it out Tuesday morning, under cool sunny skies, white clouds, a blustery wind sweeping yellow maple leaves across the yard. By the time I sat here to get started, a ladybug invasion had bloomed. Looks … 0


Thursday, October 25, 2012

Finally, a cool gray day on which to chase the dogs through a tangled, thorny swamp, though I must admit Wednesday was still a bit warm for me. I guess I could have chosen the easy route today, having written 850 words Monday, following a pleasant, windy, sunny … 0

Election season

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Whew! What a morning. It started OK after a restless night’s sleep. I arose a little late, poured black coffee and went to my favorite chair, where natural morning light through the southern window illuminates whatever I’m reading, even under cloudy skies. An hour or so later, my … 0

Deerly departed

Thursday, November 8, 2012

It’s gray and raw, storm brewing, stiff wind blowing from the frigid north: perfect for hunting on the day following an election I liked. So here I sit, dry-docked, pinned to this weekly chore, thinking of late buddy Tommy Valiton, a man who glowed with a boy’s enthusiasm … 0

Last call

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Tuesday morning. Gray and wet. Forecast: clear and cool later, a great time to go out back, get the dogs and break free for a robust hunt through a saturated bottomland swamp of my choice. My guess is that it’ll be t’other side the Connecticut River. Lily and … 0

Indian Ridge is calling

Thursday, December 27, 2012

My Filson woolens — Woodland-camo, toasty-warm and oh-so silent through winter thickets — are still hanging where I placed them in the carriage shed after Thanksgiving to air out in autumn winds. Yes, and the rugged, insulated hunting boots I twice dressed with different waterproofing oils are ready … 0

Telephone ramble

Thursday, October 31, 2013

I’m upbeat on a gray morning, steaming Tom White cup of black coffee on the Queen Anne stand beside me, killing time in front of the boob tube before my daily walk with the dogs. The phone rings. It’s a dear old friend who’s had a tough go … 0

This and that

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Whew! What a whirlwind week. I feel like a dark funnel cloud has swept me away. Maybe I’d best just go limp and let it drop me where it pleases, totally at its mercy, hopefully depositing me a freshly harrowed field. But first, as I brace for the … 0

On The Trail: Another covert bites the dust

Thursday, October 31, 2013

It’s pheasant season, the ringnecks are cackling and flying and, sadly, some of my favorite coverts — thick, thorny, productive ones I’ve hunted regularly for 40 years — are inundated with unfamiliar hunters, many of whom come from far away, a relatively new development. It’s perfectly alright that … 0