“She’ s been sprayed”, were the first words out of my wife’s mouth when she walked in the door. A couple friends were over and I was about to throw burgers on the grill. A quick double check confirmed the reality. The dog had been blasted at point blank range. The acrid smell, Read More

If I’d had a pipe and an Irish setter, we could have been in a Norman Rockwell painting. Puffy white clouds floated in a bluebird sky above vibrant green sage and the rolling red-dirt prairie. A man, at ease with the world and confident in his forthcoming conquest, strides forth, a shotgun cradled across, Read More

My son was giddy when I picked him up early from school. We’d been talking about this day for months, uncertain when it would finally come. It snuck up on us at last. Driving together in the pickup we had thirty minutes until we were all reunited. I’ll admit, I was giddy too. There are, Read More

A blood red sun is about to dip below the horizon.  Dogs are in their kennels, collars off.  We head down the dirt road, about to put a great trip in the rearview mirror.  It takes a couple of minutes but I notice my old man, riding shotgun, still has his vest on and, Read More

Pulling rubbermaid tubs down from shelves in the garage, I begin to sort gear. Sleeping bags and pads, water jugs, cook gear, the list goes on. Consulting a google doc I slowly pull the group gear we are responsible for and the personal gear our family needs. In less than a week we will, Read More

The girls decided to stay in the truck. Hand in hand we walked up the shallow ridge going over our game plan. We needed to be quiet. It was important to follow directions. Plugging your ears was ok. Being sneaky was our goal. Peeking over the ridge we spotted them, right where we anticipated, Read More

  My motions are fast. Thoughts of work, family, the next fish or any number of other distractions cloud my mind. I barely see the big picture, let alone the details.Small, unheralded details provide the texture for our world. Each nick on a shotgun has it’s own story. Every feather on a bird, or spot, Read More

It stayed packed for five months, always in the truck or near the front door, usually with a dog curled next to it. Carried through lush bottoms full of wild roosters, and over high sagebrush plains in search of sage grouse, it acquired blood stains from chukar, and the unmistakeable smell of scotch from a leaky flask. The, Read More

Only an hour from home we get a cheap hotel room. My mistress insists on leaving the toilet seat up. She farts and snores all night long. Subtle twitches and whimpers indicate good dreams. I toss and turn as the the wall mounted heater turns on and off, on and off. As blackness turns to grey, Read More

Pronghorn antelope get a bad rap as table fare. I have a theory as to why. Somewhere along the way, their abundance, combined with their preference for wide-open country, spawned a hunting culture that, in some corners, accepted long range shooting as the norm. This in turn resulted in too many wounded critters putting in, Read More