Some of my finest shots have been made with my finger on diving seagulls at the local beach.
I’m in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico, standing on the battlement of Castillo de San Felipe del Morro, a striking military fortification built between 1540 and 1783. I have been visiting my son Matthew who is in the U.S. Coast Guard, stationed across the island in Aguadilla, but at the moment we’re just hanging out, soaking up the sun and the history, doing the touristy thing. Hunting is the last thing on my mind, and then, this pigeon flies by.
Immediately, my left arm extends toward the bird and my right hand comes up beside my nose and curves around an imaginary trigger. Head down, eyes open, my left foot slightly in front of the right, I lean into the gray, feathered blur, sweeping smoothly through it. “Bang!” I say out loud, much to the consternation of the tour guide standing next to me. I drop my arms and look about sheepishly. Matthew is standing there next to me with a knowing grin. Matthew is a bird hunter, too. “Get it?” he asks.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Probably not enough lead, and I didn’t follow through. They’re tricky.”
Denne historien er fra Autumn 2016-utgaven av The Upland Almanac.
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Denne historien er fra Autumn 2016-utgaven av The Upland Almanac.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent? Logg på
Tail feathers - STANDARDS AND PRACTICES
\"An armed society is a polite society,\" the NRA says in one of its dicta, cribbed from Robert A. Heinlein, a 20th-century American science fiction writer.
Day's End - IN PRAISE OF FENCEROWS
Driving north along the Hudson River, I gazed at a pastoral autumn scene: sere fields of faded yellow harvested corn, stubbly and broken amongst the clods of black earth, almost smooth from my vantage point. Spiky brown veins of wild growth marked barriers between plots. Occasionally, the gray bones of a mature oak rose among the brown shrubs to stand over the yellow fields. A sentry, keeping silent watch as white frost crystals slowly melted into invisibility.
That Time of Year Again
Without doubt. The most idyllic form of hunting in Ohio is seeking the woodcock. - Merrill Gilfallan, Moods of the Ohio Moons: An Outdoorsman's Almanac (1991)
I Don't Wanna'!
I'm an old hand at being retired, though - have been practicing for 25 years.
Hunting the Huns: Alberta's Big Sky Country
The prairies of southern Alberta are vast, beautiful and full of prime bird habitat. Crop fields are interspersed with abandoned farms, rolling hills are intersected by coulees and creek beds, and Hungarian partridge and sharptailed grouse occupy some of the best and most picturesque habitat on the continent.
Side Dish - End of Season
Sporting trips are not only about sport, as many other experiences are discovered alongside. And my trip to Lakewood Camps in Maine was certainly just that.
AN EXTENDED STAY
There is no reason to leave Michigan in the fall unless the opportunity of a cast and blast adventure at a historic sporting lodge in Maine comes calling.
KEEP IT HANDY
If you think shooting a ruffed grouse on the wing with a shotgun is tough, try shooting one in flight with a still camera.
A Longtime Love Affair
It's possible to hunt your favorite birds in a lot of different places, I suppose, but I don't do that.
Profile of an Artist: Harley Bartlett
Harley Bartlett was born in 1959 near Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. However, having lived in Rhode Island for most of his life he considers himself a Rhode Islander.
