A large part of a rural boy’s young life—I mean life before any degree of freedom, before driver’s licenses and school dances, Boy Scout trips, or even afternoons spent in the lull of summer’s heat floating alone on farm ponds with a hook in the water and a hope-filled heart— is spent watching their father. That is, we try to imitate them, looking on as they act out their passions,…

Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders. –William Faulkner Among myriad methods for landing largemouth bass, the non-pareils of fly fishing persist. The cast. The strike. The fight. There are few endeavors in this life offering greater satisfaction than netting a warm-water carnivore of, say, five pounds on a…

The autumnal equinox is now two days behind us; and, almost on cue, the heavy air lifted and we could all breathe again here in Northwest Mississippi. Upon waking the morning of the 22nd, I knew something was amiss. Pumpkin Spice filled the air, my daughter awoke with her first head cold of the year,…

Here’s why a hunting journal matters: birds hunters become nostalgic five minutes after their first hunt. Within a few seasons the condition is nearly a disorder. The world whirls around, hurling us into an unknown future, while we look back into a mist-tinted memory of a hazy afternoon when the points were intense, the shooting…