WE WAIT with the old men, each of them rooted in the muck, worn and furrowed. In the early light, their limbs and branches overhead are kinked and storm-shattered, like the arthritic fingers of the ...
It was a hunt I’ll never forget. My son Matt, 14 at the time, accompanied Jim Spencer and me to hunt ducks in east Arkansas’ Bayou Meto Wildlife Management Area, a picturesque bottomland near ...
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