By David E. Petzal

My guide in New Zealand, David Blainey, had served ten years as a soldier in that country’s “forces,” as the army is called, and would have stayed another ten had not an ankle betrayed him. He loved the service, and one afternoon he asked me what was the most important thing I had gotten out of my time in the U.S. Army.

By Philip Bourjaily

Recently both the sporting goods stores I frequent completed remodeling jobs, taking out their stand-up gun racks and putting in new ones. From one store, I scrounged a bunch of rack bottoms, lined with cutouts for the butts of long guns. From the other, I scored the top halves, with notches cut in them for the gun barrels. Both the tops and bottoms are made of oak and luckily for me, they’re a close match in color. I am set. All I need now is a gun room.

By Philip Bourjaily

Since turkey seasons are winding down all over the country, it’s time to post up your season highlights. I’ve already run the picture of me and my one turkey of the spring but I hadn’t told the story of the very brief and satisfying hunt:

As is my routine during turkey season, I dropped my younger son at school and  got to the public area I hunt a little after 7:00 a.m. I drove around drinking coffee until I saw a glinting black spot in a freshly burned field. Although the area is billiard table-flat, there were enough willows to use as cover for my approach so I parked the jeep, pulled on my stuff, and snuck to within 125 yards or so of the bird. I saw him look around the first time

I yelped. Second time, he popped in and out of strut, then turned and walked my way. I never made another call after that.

He gobbled once coming in, and when he got to what I thought was 40 yards and change, he veered off course. I could call more to straighten him out and bring him closer or I could shoot. I shot.

By David E. Petzal