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A few years back, my gaggle of goose-hunting buddies embarked on a cross-country journey to find a field or two to hunt Canada geese during the early September season. We drove untold miles over the course of two days before we spotted a small grain field, let alone one to which we could gain access.

My gun cabinet houses a reasonably large number of shotguns. I don’t ever sell or trade in old guns when I get new ones, so they tend to accumulate. There are guns that have been passed on to me – my dad’s and my father-in-law’s, for example. I still have my first gun, an Ithaca

Neonicotinoids. Say what? The problem with chemical names is that only scientists think they make sense, but luckily, when broken down by syllables, normal humans can usually figure out how say the word. Breaking it down, neonicotinoid means: neo = new; nicotin = nicotine; oid = similar to, but not the same. It’s a relatively

This isn’t about returning from the field or lake empty-handed, devoid of game. It’s about being skunked … literally. You know, the kind accompanied by an acrid odor that just hangs on. In New York, dogs and their trainers are about to return afield. Training in the cool of the morning or the evening just