Way Upland
It’s the second day of the upland season and I am in a pre-dawn traffic jam. I’m following a string of crimson taillights up…
It’s the second day of the upland season and I am in a pre-dawn traffic jam. I’m following a string of crimson taillights up…
Spike camp was two miles from base — as the raven flies not really that far in this expansive National Forest. But as flatlanders…
We all have limits. But that edge is never static. It’s a river that rages perilously close or meanders docile and aimless in the…
I can feel him in the distance looking down on us. The Deacon of this mountain is unimpressed with our pace and route….
Something is wrong with me. Any other sane bird hunter would have packed up and moved to the interior where the bird numbers and…
The wind is gusting at my back collapsing my empty game bag. It’s a chilly reminder, as if I needed one. In the distance…
Alaska and I are at odds. I’m here to take her birds. She’s not giving them up easily. I’m to earn them one vertical…