V1N5 Aug/Sept 13
Mike Stewart had his target market. He had his training process. He had his vision of the perfect gun dog. Now all he needed was an opportunity to put it all together. That opportunity came in 1999, w...
Filed In: Craft, Culture, Gun, History, The Sporting Life
The Connecticut River Valley is the historic “gun valley” of America’s early industrial development in the heart of Yankee country, home to some of the great names in American shotguns.......
Filed In: Dog, Hunt, The Sporting Life, Upland
“If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything,” goes the saying, and here’s some of what I stand for: I love all horses, some dogs, and no cats.......
Filed In: Bird, On the Hunt, Quail, The Sporting Life
I’ve always been reluctant to take a partner along when I hunt the singing windmill arroyo, whose loveliness and loneliness seem to demand solitude. Still, sometimes I relent and feel......
Filed In: Chef + Plate, Food, Recipe, Restaurant, Toasting the Hunt
Chef Kipp Bourdeau Pine Creek Sporting Club Okeechobee, FL Ingredients for Venison 1 pound venison tenderloin, trimmed, cut into medallions 1 tablespoon A1 steak sauce 1 tablespoon soy sauce 2......
Filed In: Dog, Kennel, People, The Sporting Life
Epiphanies are confounding. You never know you’re going to have one, right up until the moment you do. They can’t be summoned, predicted, or carefully constructed from the sturdy building......
Filed In: Hunt, Memories, On the Hunt, Quail, The Sporting Life
Cle-cle-cle. The sound was unmistakable—mountain quail. I hadn’t guessed I could find them this close to home. We saw their three-toed tracks in new-fallen snow. When we bounced a covey......
Filed In: Chef + Plate, Food, Recipe, Restaurant, Toasting the Hunt
Chef Kipp Bourdeau Pine Creek Sporting Club Okeechobee, FL Ingredients for the Elk Chop 4 elk chops, trimmed well 1 tablespoon olive oil 3 juniper berries, crushed 4 garlic cloves, crushed......
Filed In: Grouse, On the Hunt, The Sporting Life, Woodcock
On the Opening Day of the grouse and woodcock seasons, I am like a coiled spring. I wait for months on end until Father Time tick-tocks his way slowly through......