It is opening day of deer season in Northeastern Oregon. A cabin neighbor and his cohorts recently returned from an all-day hunt on the rugged slopes above the Umatilla River. Curiosity has got the best of me. Darkness settles when I wander down the lane to see how they fared. The night air …
I hike so rarely in the rain that I appreciate the experience in a way I would not if I lived in a soggier place.
I suspect that my brain might be getting pretty full since I am having a hard time remembering things these days. However, I still remember my first deer hunt like it was yesterday.
I have driven so often across Oregon’s midsection that I feel I know its anatomy in something like the way a thoracic surgeon is familiar with the places she plumbs.
Tweedle had railed for weeks about what good buck tags we had drawn. Apparently he used to cowboy in the area and knew it well.
Went for a hike in the woods on a recent Sunday to check on the tamaracks’ annual autumnal show.
The general shooting public has always tried to get better value for their buck. Occasionally, these “value” guns are so cheaply constructed that they inspire little to no confidence and have …