A Hunt in Memory of Grandpa

As I made my final turn into camp, I was acutely aware of the emotions trips previous had garnered. I was, however, unsettled. Where there should have existed optimism, contentment, and a sense of whole, I only felt unsettled conflict and anxiety. Such feelings were...

My First Buck – Montana 2002

I’ll admit it:  At twenty-six years old, I had yet to kill a buck.  Oh, I’d tried, but my ramblings through the soaking jungles of western Oregon had bore much more resemblence to clumsy nature hikes than true hunting excursions.  Too, I’d had some...