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Hunting
Opening day of turkey season… what a glorious time in a hunter’s life. You wade through deer season, spend the next two months wing-shooting at wood ducks, chasing beagles through the short pines or lining up your .22 rifle on a flattened-out bushytail sunning himself on a sun-baked hickory branch. It almost seems like passing…
There is an annual January gathering in Sylvania that warms the heart, even if the temperatures have dropped and the weather has a sting. The quail fly better anyway when the weather has an edge, but no matter the climatic conditions, the hospitality is unsurpassed. Don Sheppard Jr., his brother, Stan, and his father, Don…
Wild hogs, feral pigs, wild boar, boar, porkers… pests, nuisance, exotic impostors! These critters have a growing repertoire of names and descriptions to match their rapidly expanding range. Wild hogs have become such a pestilence in some places that land managers are scrambling to find ways to keep up with their growing numbers. Hunters are…
Forty-five minutes had passed since he’d last gobbled, and I was exhausted. I had gotten myself into a battle with a tough, old bird, and the best I could figure he’d whipped me pretty good. We went at it on and off for about two and a half hours when he finally seemed to tire…
Last summer GON mentioned a new product by Pennington Seed Co. that targets waterfowl hunters and their need for a food-plot product. A Briefly blurb discussed the new Wildlife Rice product, and it drew quite a response from Georgia duck hunters. You might think that growing rice in Georgia is a stretch, and the return…
Ol’ Slick “opened up” with a loud tenor bawl, about a half-mile into the Broad River bottoms. He was telling me that a coon had walked there… much earlier in the night. The trail was ice cold. Ten minutes later, I could tell it was gettin’ hotter, as Slick’s barks changed to a shorter,…
Back in August, Darrin Russell, of Auburn, was browsing through the vast array of garage-sale merchandise at the J and J Flea Market off Hwy 441 just north of Athens. Suddenly an item in the back of one of the booths caught his eye. It was a huge set of antlers on a skull plate.…
A half-dozen flashlights bounced off the deerʼs brown hide where it lay just inside a narrow stand of privet. Jenny Lewisʼs smile was bigger than a quarter moons as she stared down and enjoyed the congratulatory pats on the back and high fives. “Giant doe,” said Ben Harris, Jennyʼs 18-year-old boyfriend. “Only your second time…
When Mike Kilgoreʼs tubby body fell beside his small dome tent nearly a quarter of a mile from the palmetto thicket, he slammed his scoped .22-magnum rifle down into a mat of thin pinestraw. Todd had arrived a minute earlier and was already sitting in the campʼs only chair. “That was Leeʼs voice…why did you…
“Sounds like weʼre getting pretty close… time to put it in stealth mode,” whispered Mike Kilgore. “I bet we ainʼt but 150 yards from the deer,” Todd Swain whispered back. “Youʼre fat… I can be quieter than you. Give me the gun, and Iʼll go alone.” “Iʼm fixing to slam the butt of this gun in…
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