The Bradford Era

Hunting pheasants with my grandfather, Arthur Hayes, and Ken Lorch during my late teens was incredibly important to my upbringing. Here I was exposed,...

I sat quietly as the light gradually increased, the far ridge top growing from an indistinct blur into a sharp, knife-edge silhouette against the dawn...

I’m pleased to see more and more kayaks and canoes on the waters today. Not only do these pollution-free watercraft eliminate the roar of engines, the...

The long-forgotten pond was thickly ringed with brush and aspen trees, its steep sides interspersed with patches of poison ivy and oak. Located beside...

Summer is upon us and with it, warmer weather and warmer water temperatures. The first thing to recognize is that the fish are changing their habits n...

The lake was shimmering, its oily surface as smooth as glass. Scattered patches of fog hung randomly here and there as floating misty phantoms in the ...

Serious writers are a unique set of individuals. Without exception, everyone has something to say and an internal driving force to do so. I’ve thought...

For spring gobbler season, May 2026 was the most difficult I can remember — and some excellent hunters I know never bagged a bird. To quote an extreme...

The alarm blared at 3:45 a.m., the strident sound cutting into my sleep. My entire body revolted; I’d been cuddled beneath warm blankets, in blissful ...