Long Live the Hunt

Along the back trails of my memories I remember some great hunters and the companionship we shared.

Uncle George was a stalking backwoods instructor. I often saw him moving through the woods with no more sound then the breeze that rustled the dry autumn leaves.

He was a man of unlimited patience. Some he learned hunting wily whitetail for a lifetime. Others came from being a Marine fighting in one of those World War II hell-holes in the South Pacific. Though wounded he was so grateful to come home. The lessons he gave us boys out there n’ the woods have never been forgotten.

And my brother Tom...