One of the many things I enjoy at deer camp is visiting an old fellow who sells produce on a desolate corner of U.S. Highway 301 in Screven County.
His real name is Earnest Albright, but he is more widely known as “Potato Man” because of the Georgia Red sweet potatoes he peddles to passers by.
I was hiking back from my deer stand the other morning and noticed something shiny in a washed-out logging road.
It was an arrowhead—or rather, the broken tip of an arrowhead. It looked out of place in the sandy soil. I looked it over carefully and savored my find before plucking it from its resting place.
It’s no secret that some of the best hunters and fishermen are some of the world’s worst photographers.
In the past week alone, I’ve been offered photos of some awesome deer that just aren’t usable. Caped heads, dangling tongues and bloody deer strapped onto the handlebars of a four-wheeler just won’t work.
Someone even send me a FAX of a deer photo - and seemed genuinely disapointed it could not appear in the newspaper.
Here are some tips for taking quality photos of your buck:
He crept along an overgrown powerline late in the morning, trailing a herd of frisky does. He was the eleventh and final deer to wander past my stand during a long vigil that began before first light and ended just in time for lunch. I guessed his age at three and a half, his weight near 170 pounds.
It’s hard to travel anywhere near the Blue Ridge Parkway without taking a few minutes to drive its winding turnbacks and gaze from its many overlooks.
Last weekend, with plans to attend a friend’s 50th birthday party in Tryon, N.C., my wife and I decided to head north late Friday night to free up some hiking time on Saturday. It was a wise decision.
It always saddens me that so many people will go out of their way to kill a snake—any snake.
I’ve seen people swerve their cars on purpose—just to flatten one on the highways. I’ve seen snakes bludgeoned with six-irons, flattened with boat paddles and hacked to a bloody mess with garden tools.
But it’s also heartening to know that we have folks out there who will take the time to save one, because it’s the right thing to do.
It's big and blue - and rumbling down an interstate near you. But if you were parked next to a nuclear warhead at the gas station, would you know it?
Probably not. And the federal government likes it that way. So do I.
Ever since The Augusta Chronicle ran its multi-story package (Sunday, Aug. 23) on Savannah River Site’s critical role in disposing of plutonium from about 10,000 dismantled bombs, there’s been a lot of interest in how the National Nuclear Security Administration moves this stuff from place to place.
It’s a rare occasion these days when the anti-hunting crowd finds itself allied with some of the finest outdoorsmen I know. But it happened last week—right here in Columbia County.
The catalyst for such an unlikely blind date was a dead alligator—killed and hacked apart after supposedly being hauled from its home in a pond behind Brown Feed & Seed in Evans.
There is only one fitness plan guaranteed to work. It is called fear.
I wasn’t the least bit afraid when my wife called me at work some months ago with a vacation idea.
“Let’s tour the Grand Canyon,” she said. “It’ll be fabulous.”
Our Sunday outdoors column about the Florida panther killed in Troup County, Ga., generated a lot of interest from readers—and plenty of stories about similar sightings of a creature that supposedly doesn’t live here.