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On The Trail

On The Trail: Trigger happy

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Not complaining, just one of those weeks, I guess. Yes, one of those stretches when weird stuff requiring immediate attention comes at you like bugs at a hot muggy windshield. It all started with irritating gun woes late last week. First, while pursuing a wild flush — it a long-tailed, vociferous ring-neck rooster whose landing I had marked — I was astonished to come up empty in a dense thicket … 0

On the Trail: Blind faith

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

He was out for an afternoon walk on a sunny fall Friday, I on my way home from hunting, a fun day behind two seasoned gun dogs through thick thorny cover. I pulled over, stopped, slid down my passenger’s window and said hello, he having just crossed to the south side of a bridge. I have known the man for many years and … 0

Branching out

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Saturday morning, after 10, gray, damp, rain holding off, me reading, phone rings. My buddy Cooker’s calling from the field on his cell, hunting over young male springer spaniel, Gizmo. “Hey, I’m hunting down by Duncan’s and, trust me, it’s your kinda covert. You ought to head down. You’ll like it. I’ve already killed a hen, flushed two roosters and have the place … 0

Clockwork

Thursday, April 11, 2013

It’s Wednesday morning, column day, and nothing seems to be going smoothly, especially choosing a topic. One of those days, I suppose. Always dangerous. Never know where a man might wander on a warm spring day. As for my unexpected issues, well, I imagine you all know the … 0

Indian pond

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Where to start? That’s the problem today facing me. I know where I’m headed, just am not sure how to get there. Hmmmm? Bear with me. Plus due to a spring freshet of info overflow, I must run a rare outdoors notebook inside. First, though, I probably ought … 0

Spring things

Thursday, April 25, 2013

The greening of spring can envelop a man with inspiration — a young manured rye field underfoot stretching out in rich, vibrant green to a faraway budding border of faint pastels, high and low, some reds and browns daubed in, the streams at a swollen mumble, soothing from … 0

The legend grows

Thursday, May 2, 2013

The tulip magnolia is back, and so is that solitary Indian camped at the edge of town. First, the magnolia, though, which literally weathered the storm and is now in full bloom, just around the corner from the umbrella table and chairs we put out front for a … 0

Flower power

Thursday, May 9, 2013

It’s that hopeful time of year when things are happening and, no, I haven’t given up on Bull Head Pond. In fact, I have exciting new discoveries pertaining to that forgotten spot, now in another location just a stone’s throw from the 20th century pond called Bull Head … 0

Strange bedfellows

Thursday, May 16, 2013

A rattler it wasn’t, but still, how would like to find one in your lingerie drawer? Yes, it seems dangerous-looking reptiles are lurking in my neighborhood, and that’s what I’m chasing this week; just another interesting little tale that piqued my interest after arriving as an email tip … 0

Fishing for forgiveness

Thursday, May 23, 2013

That mournful flute was entrancing, spooky. Its deep, hollow, haunting moans filled the bright, airy, riverside chamber called Great Hall and pierced a private internal sanctuary in me that few can penetrate, entering through a slim wound that oozed grief, gushed guilt. The handsome wooden instrument still resonated … 0

Bull Head conclusions

Thursday, May 30, 2013

I’ve been tempted lately to jump back into the anadromous fish fray, for which local gadfly Karl Meyer has so capably taken the baton and sprinted off toward a distant, cluttered finish line. But first things first — specifically closure on the location of Greenfield’s Bull Head Pond, … 0

Riverside rambling

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Monday, the morning after, gray and muggy following hard overnight rains. Heavy wet pods atop waist-high orchard-grass stems droop low, seeds shedding onto my shoe-tops, collecting on the shaft of my tiger-striped chestnut crook cane. My feet are wet, getting wetter with each step as a hidden yet … 0

No escape

Thursday, June 13, 2013

The iron bridge connecting Springfield, Vt., and Charlestown, N.H., is straight and narrow, similar indeed to the live-free-or-die creed of rugged individualism and no taxes on the Granite State side. So, no, I can’t say it’s a bit … 0

River reflections

Thursday, July 18, 2013

That bright sliver of a hot new moon had long ago set in the dawning sky and it was boys’ day on the Green River, three of us, grandfather and grandsons. You know what they say about the apple falling not far from the tree. Well, it was … 0

Cover commotion

Thursday, July 25, 2013

It finally arrived Monday! I was starting to wonder. Truth be told, I had been eagerly awaiting it since dismissing as inadequate the homogenized news reports I had read, watched and listened to following that sad day in April when two curb-side pressure cookers exploded, killing three and … 0