Her ancestors, training, years of experience all lead to this moment. Muscles ripple down her sides as she hones in on the target…
It was still raining as I settled into my bag under the flimsy yellow tarp, a gentle but relentless rain that fell as though it meant to keep it up all night, all day or all week. A mixed blessing…
Bucking in circles like a rodeo bull, her enthusiasm belied her age. I was scrambling around the cold garage looking for duck hunting gear that hasn’t been used much lately. The temps started to drop, from a high of 20 F, as soon as the sun dipped below the mountains. Waterfowl was our game when, Read More
We’ve never met. I get his mail on occasion though. I moved into the house last June. He rented it for the previous couple of years. The house was cleaned out, but the few items that lingered in the garage led me to believe we might have a lot in common. One Carlisle oar, leaning against, Read More
I’ve made a habit over the past few years of shooting elk farther and farther from the truck, in places with no motorized access and only my back to pack em out on. Many have asked why I’m willing to put in so much effort and, at times, suffering. For me the answer is, Read More
We sat in the pickup and squinted into the lifting darkness at daybreak. Vague shapes gradually emerged three miles distant — fifty elk grazing along a hillside. We spent the next two hours creeping toward them. Slipping into range we caught sight through the timber of dark legs gliding over snow. As I raised my, Read More
“Dada, Dada, look! Is that chukar poop?” asked the kindergartener. “Not sure son. It’s bird poop, for sure, but probably not chukar poop. Hard to say.” “Well if it is, than we’re in a goooood hunting spot, cause there’s LOTS of it!” The cards were stacked against us. We knew that much going in., Read More
Over the years I’ve done a handful of european mounts myself. It’s always tedious and doesn’t turn out as well as it would if done by a professional. But I like the process and often don’t want to throw down the money to have a taxidermist do the job. This year I had decent, Read More
By Kirk Billings I finished up bird season last year with a bad knee, a mile and a half march across obscenely muddy flats, and a single chukar in my vest. I’d had to scrounge shells for my 20 gauge to eke out the day and a broken strap on my gaiters flailed along, Read More