It was a cold, rainy Nova Scotia afternoon in December, the last day of the 2014 deer season. So far, my luck had been pretty bad. I’d been out only once before, for a four-hour hunt that had resulted in one tick bite, one case of Lyme disease, one nasty staph infection, and zero deer. …
The story of how, at the age of 43, I shot my first deer.
Gun ownership in Canada is treated as a privilege, not a right. And I think this is a far more sane approach. Read more…
On the last day of 2012, I rolled out of bed at 5 am and began to get ready. Long johns, thermal undershirt, military surplus fleece pants, another thermal undershirt, two pairs of socks, a fleece pullover, and finally my hunting jacket, ski cap, balaclava, and gloves. This may sound like an abundance of clothing, suitable, perhaps, for an expedition to the North Pole. As it turned out, I would be sadly under dressed for the morning’s pursuit: duck hunting in the North Atlantic.Read more…
