My Dad was no saint. He could (and often did) swear like a sailor. He had a temper that was scary to behold. And he helped me understand the almost indescribable excitement of the hunt.

During the latter decades of the 19th Century, Frenchman Édouard Foa traveled, and hunted extensively, from one end of Africa to another.

This time rather than heading to the next ridge, Mike suggested we head back to his truck and drive to another area and start the glassing and stalking over again.

Frances and I were given the privilege of touring L’Atelier Verney-Carron. Frances took the wonderful photographs that will accompany my articles describing our visit.

To me still-hunting elk in the mountains, when they are calling, is one of the most attractive of sports…

His next five steps brought him to a brush pile made up mostly of mesquite and willow branches.

All in all, Roosevelt’s interests in arts and letters were almost unique among American chief executives.

The first morning of our hunt dawned crisp and clear, and with the pit-of-the-stomach excitement that feels at once so good and yet so worrying.

I really love this quote, but PLEASE NOTE, it may not be from Rudyard Kipling.

Though we saw our quarry in the distance, today the Mourning Doves were victorious.

I thought the time had come to introduce two of tomorrow's companions who will accompany me on a Georgia Dove hunt with our friends at South Fork Hunting Preserve.

He bent double and pushed down the next to the bottom strand of barbed-wire. As he did so, he used his free hand to lift first one, then the other, shell pocket of his game vest over the pointed wire.

Fifty years ago, Jack O’Connor published a story in Outdoor Life magazine in which he recounted a tale of overconfidence, bad weather and missed opportunities.

Well, my friends Ken Buch and Jérôme Lanoue of Kebco/Verney-Carron along with Colby Phillips and Jacob Nash from South Fork Hunting Preserve have done it again.

While Colby and Jacob again swapped equipment, I acquainted myself with one of the leaders of the next stage of our hunt, an 11-month-old “Rockstar” (Colby’s descriptor) named Louise.

Josie and Jessie, much to their dismay, were placed into their enclosure while Jacob suited up as the backer and Colby prepared to act as the guide.

I rely on Craig Boddington for advice and ideas as a former generation of hunters relied on Jack O’Connor.

They gave fair warning. In fact, it seemed that they exchanged a look, shrugged their shoulders and then looked back as if to say, “Please don’t look for the bird on the ground. Look up.”