For four days it rained, every day there were fresh tracks to greet me and new rubs....

The first camp origins involved my Grandfather and his three boys. I believe it was 1982 and it was a rectangular box....

The partridge as my family called them was the first game I hunted and I don’t like admitting how long it took me to bag one....

By the end of the season I had only seen one black bear, a chocolate boar who caught our wind and skedattled up a tree....

Until moving to western Canada much of my life was shaped in hunting camps and on the water in Ontario with my Father and Uncles....