The number of bears I have seen this year — and seen evidence of around my house — gives testimony to our vibrant and growing black bear population.
Sometime — likely between 3,000 and 2,500 years ago — a Hebrew poet wrote a beautiful nature poem that has, thankfully, managed to survive the centuries, and has come to modern readers as Psalm 104. I say “thankfully” because for many years this ancient p … (read more)
The rain was falling again. Alaska’s 2023 summer was beginning to feel a lot like Vermont’s.
I never have — and with complete confidence can say I never will — be seen “Dancing with the Stars.” As for dancing with the bears, however, that’s another story.
My wife recently pointed out to me that there are 45 known species of mosquitos in Vermont. This summer I think I have interacted with all of them.
River after river, stream after stream was running high and muddy. Unfishably muddy.
Thanks in large part to the public’s purchases of Vermont Habitat Stamps, the Blake Higgins Dam on Vermont’s Saxtons River — a tributary of the Connecticut River in southeastern Vermont — is scheduled to be taken down in 2024.
On such a hot day, my daughter-in-law McKenna and I figured that if we wanted both to enjoy the fishing and to catch fish, we’d need to get up to some cool, well-shaded bit of water, either far up into a gorge somewhere or to a mountain stream in the nati … (read more)
Late on a Wednesday afternoon, four huge Atlantic salmon finned in the current at the tail end of a long, deep pool on a small Maine river.
An hour or so earlier, a hefty trout had chased my imitation stonefly nymph up from the deep water in front me to within a foot of the surface just off the massive boulder on which I was standing.
The haunting and beautiful duet of a pair of loons cut through the thin fabric sides of our tent. So did the chill evening air.
The reaction was instant. At the sound of the splash, my heart began to race. I could feel the rush of adrenaline as my head whipped around toward the sound.
The first rapids we hit is known as Surprise. “Because,” as our raft guide Linc told us, “when you come into it, it catches you by surprise.”
The morning began with a rainy drive of a little less than an hour along the western edge of New River Gorge National Park in West Virginia.
I confess that walking around a wildflower preserve does not jump to the forefront of my mind when I ponder outdoor activities.
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