Picture This: Youth Hunt Day

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Early Morning Gobblers

By Patrick Murphy of Rocky Mount, NC

6am finds me on schedule to my first listening location. The air is cool and sharp, there’s no wind. The thick smoke from my breath hovers around my head as I stop to listen. It seems thick enough to convince me it’s hampering my hearing, so I tip toe and listen rather then stand still.

Then it comes…the first gobble. I’m immediately 15 minutes late now, he’s a long ways. It takes forever, dodging the gauntlet of deer in route slows me down even more. As I close the distance, I know exactly where he’s at and the tree I’m gonna call home for the morning. Read more

Through Better Men than I

By Master Sargent Mike Sibley

I can hear their whispers wherever I go. “Control your breathing, concentrate on the blade, and squeeze.” “Feel your way along with your toes instead of watching your feet.” “Work your way down through that black-growth and you’ll find ‘em in that stand of beech.” So persistent are they that I sympathize with a schizophrenic who feels as if he’s never alone. Unlike him, my voices are not a psychotic delusion created by chemical imbalances crying out for the saving grace of lithium. Real men spoke those words and no amount of time or distance will ever silence them. They are my last connection to a past that I crave but know I’ll never see. They define the man who hears them. And I pray they shape the lives of my sons. Read more