MY AUTUMN RIDE

There are people we meet on our journey through this life that we never forget. For me Jacob Nowland is one of those people. He is a mountain man, buck skinner, horseman, singer and poet. Jacob, like me, is getting along in years and he sent me this poem he wrote that puts meaningful words to his autumn of life. – J. Wayne Fears
 

MY Autumn Ride
by Jacob M. Nowland

The night makes way for mornin’ light

The day has just begun

At the pasture’s gate I anticipate

Some warmth from the rising sun

The breeze is cool, there ain’t no dew

There’s autumn in the air 

My favorite time of year is here

As I whistle for the mare.

She comes to me as if she knows

 And she knows a thing or two

Read More

WHERE HAVE ALL THE WOODSMEN GONE?

He is as rare and endangered as any critter in North America, perhaps more so. No, I’m not talking about a Black-footed ferret or the Florida panther. I am speaking of the “woodsman”.

I grew up in the late 1940’s and early 1950’s, when outdoor magazines were a colorful mix of adventure stories with really useful “how-to” information thrown in to help the reader learn a collection of outdoor skills that was called “woodsmanship”.

Writers such as Charlie Elliott, Fred Bear, John Jobson, Ted Trueblood, Russell Annabel, and Townsend Whelen took us to the most remote corners of North America. These men could use a canoe like an Indian, navigate by the stars, and cook scrumptious meals in a reflector oven. They could sharpen an ax, track game across a bed of rock, butcher a deer, and make a comfortable shelter using only a tarp.

Read More