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This article originally appeared on Foxworthy Outdoors. March 1, 2012.

“Shhhhh…I hear a moose,” whispered Steve Vogt.

“Yeah, I hear him too.  Sounds like he’s a half mile down river,” I replied.

The 16-foot aluminum boat with its jet drive kicker drifted down King Salmon Creek, no motor running….quiet like, just oars keeping the boat in the middle of the creek.  The cold fog hung low across the river.  You could breathe its water. 

Steve looked back at me from the bow where he sat and said, “Scotty, I’m going to kill a moose.” 

He had the look of a fighter pilot approaching his target. 

You see, a few years earlier I had killed a fine bull moose in the Mulchatna drainage area several hundred miles to the north and now it was Steve’s turn.  We had flown commercially into King Salmon, rented a boat with enough gasoline to run a destroyer for a week then headed up King Salmon Creek. 

This article originally appeared on Foxworthy Outdoors. July 5, 2012.

I opened my eyes to a new morning as steam poured out my sleeping bag, like smoke rising to the roof of the tent. 

“Now that’s a sight you don’t see every day,” I thought. 

The Coleman bag was very damp but very warm. Hollofil is a life-saver in the bush. On the other side of the tent Steve Vogt is mumbling something about a train wreck. I crawled out of the bag, opened up my duffel bag and pulled out a new set of clothes that had been closed up in a garbage bag. 

This article originally appeared on Foxworthy Outdoors. Nov. 20, 2012.

Have I told you I have a grandson? Well…like so many older folks who like to brag about their grandkids, I guess I’m now one of ‘em. Sam Railey will be 2 years old this coming January. I know this sounds a little premature, but I’m building Sam a rifle. I know he’s only two, but the boy is going to need a rifle one day. It makes perfect sense to me that I continue the great outdoor experiences that I had with his Dad, Matt and his Uncle Steve, my other son with Sam. As a father and grandfather, it is a special time to present a young boy with his “first rifle.” 

This article was originally published on Foxworthy Outdoors. Dec. 13, 2012.

John Roy Lightfoot is a rough old soul. At 55 years old, he could easily pass for 70. It’s amazing what three packs of cigarettes a day, mixed with a dozen beers and who knows what else will do to the body…but, it can’t be good. Yeah, John Roy had a rough life…a self-inflicted, rough life. Ten years in the pen for a pot farm didn’t help him either. 

John Roy lives about five miles from our farm. He and his wife live in a small frame home surrounded by ten acres. They are poor folks who struggle to get by. Mrs. Lightfoot sells vegetables and canned goods to help support John, who doesn’t work. 

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