by Johnny Carrol Sain - Thursday, Mar 26th, 2020
Faint streaks of pink already stretch over the mountains. I’d lingered over that second cup of coffee too long.
I shove shells into the shotgun and set off at a fast walk to my listening spot nearly half a mile away. Whip-poor-wills whistle a lonely farewell song to the night as the strengthening voices of diurnal birds fill the woods. I haven’t heard a crow yet, and that’s good news. In my experience, crows and turkeys usually clock in at the same time.
by Chad Shmukler - Wednesday, Mar 25th, 2020
With much of the country on lockdown, or preparing to go on lockdown, as part of an effort to stop the spread and rapidly intensifying growth of COVID-19 cases in the United States, small businesses are already feeling the sting of a contracting economy. Chances are, like me, you already know a handful of small business owners that are struggling to figure out how to keep workers paid or even employed, doing the math on whether to take on more debt (in the form of loans) during an economic downturn, or even those that have already made the decision to shutter their operations.
by Chris Hunt - Tuesday, Mar 24th, 2020
I love Irish whiskey. Perhaps it’s the Kearns lineage that bleeds through the mishmash of English Hunts and German Garretts and Mullers that forged the American mongrel I am today, but of all the whiskeys (or whiskies—more on that in a bit), I find Irish the most palatable.
by Steve Woit - Monday, Mar 23rd, 2020
Collectors of antique fly fishing tackle are a unique breed. Motivated by a passion for the sport and the excitement of the chase, they often search and compete for decades to acquire a single object of desire.
In doing so, they help preserve the craft and history of fly fishing history one rod, reel or fly at a time. Some have gained celebrity in the fly fishing community, reaching the status of elders in the tribe.
by Mike Sepelak - Friday, Mar 20th, 2020
Time travel’s not all that hard if you follow your nose. Smells go straight to the emotional memory center of the brain, returning many to their mother’s kitchen by way of a whiff of freshly baked bread, to their father’s workshop by the dusty scent of fragrant woodwork, or to dreamy, long-forgotten vacations on the ozone fresh portent of incoming rain. Here, I ride the dark, luxuriant aroma of newly tanned cowhide back to the farm’s old tack room. My early childhood smelled like this. With luck, my Heaven will too.
It’ll smell like Lou Taubert’s.
In much of rural America, the town dump remains the great equalizer. Sometimes known as the more sanitary sounding “transfer station,” it’s the place that virtually...
It felt like a slower-than-usual day. But then, on the morning after, I noticed a tender area a few inches to the right of my belly-button—not coincidentally, the place...
Killing native wildlife, defined by the ecologically challenged as “varmints,” is a popular American tradition, especially when organized into social events in which...
Korkers new Stealth Sneaker is a hybrid of the wading shoes we’ve seen grow in popularity lately and the tried-and-true wading boots...
There’s a creek freak in every fly fisher, even if it's compartmentalized away, deep in the emotional recesses of our psyches. Most of us who have fly fished for years —...
Fall is officially upon us, and fly-fishing gear manufacturers are pushing new rods, reels and other goods out to consumers this month. From a handful of new reels — both...
