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category_outlined / Caza y Pesca
Sporting ClassicsSporting Classics

Sporting Classics May/June 2019

Sporting Classics is devoted to those who love to read. Each issue is packed with the things you love most: guns, knives, adventures, sporting art, dogs, and more. From Hemingway to Buckingham, O'Connor to Rutledge, this is the best hunting and fishing magazine for any sportsman!

País:
United States
Idioma:
English
Editor:
Sporting Classics Magazine
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access_time1 min.
sporting classics

PUBLISHER DUNCAN GRANT EDITOR CHUCK WECHSLER CHIEF FINANCIAL OFFICER WAYNE NANNEY SENIOR EDITORS MICHAEL ALTIZER LARRY CHESNEY TOM DAVIS MIKE GADDIS TOM KEER ROBERT MATTHEWS BOB MCKINNEY LLOYD NEWBERRY ROGER PINCKNEY JOHN ROSS RON SPOMER TODD TANNER DWIGHT VAN BRUNT ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER - ADVERTISING BRIAN RALEY (800) 849-1004 (803) 736-2424 NATIONAL ADVERTISING JEFFTHRUSTON/Berna RD & ASSOCIATES 767 MILL ST., RENO, NV 89502 (775) 323-6828 DIRECTOR OF PUBLIC RELATIONS JASON VINCENT CREATIVE DIRECTOR ERIC TAYLOR ART DIRECTOR MICHAEL R. COLEMAN EDITOR-AT-LARGE JAMES CASADA EDITORIAL ADVISORS MIKE GADDIS DOUG PAINTER ADVERTISING COORDINATOR DEBBIE S. MOAK CUSTOMER RELATIONS BILL JACKSON RON STEP WEBSTORE/SHIPPING LAURA WILHELM ACCOUNTING PAULA CLAAS WWW.SPORTINGCLASSICS.COM…

access_time4 min.
this ’n that

36,700 BOYKINS … AND COUNTING FROM THE NEO-20TH-CENTURY ERA of “Dumpy” and “Singo,” fountainhead sire and dam for “Whit Boykin’s spaniels,” to the eruption of interest in the little Wateree Swamp dogs incited by national media in the mid-1970s, almost 70 years of speculative breeding and chromosomal drift had occurred, eroding the welfare and perpetuation of the original type. Subsequent and unquenchable commercial celebrity only exacerbated the situation. The diversity of canine “nationalities” in the DNA melt included at minimum the American water spaniel, Chesapeake Bay retriever, English setter, English pointer, springer spaniel, English field spaniel, American cocker and Brittany. The clarion call to Whit Boykin’s descendants for expeditious restorative and protective action was sounded by Dr. Peter McKoy, a veterinarian in Camden, South Carolina, who in 1977 was appalled at what was…

access_time9 min.
a fire in his heart

He was born again in a Wyoming summer, under the Moon of the Walking Thunder, in that long-ago Year of Our Maker, eighteen-hundred-and-twenty-three. From the moment he had left the Missouri, following the Platte, had crossed to the Sweetwater, reached the Wind River Country, forged on to set foot to the Hole of the Tetons … had beheld for the first time the untamed and beautifully rugged, still snow-capped surge of the Absarokas … he had known it to be so. Somewhere just ahead he would find Teton Pass, and soon after behold for himself the fabled molten chimneys of “Colter’s Hell,” if such a place there be, that he could neither fathom nor imagine. Yet was said to be true. That a man could boil his breakfast in the steaming water that…

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take me fishing … literally

About a decade ago, my wife Angela and I took advantage of the cool fall temperatures that were delivered on an East wind to scour the beaches for striped bass. There was a cleanliness in the air, the kind only found along the coast. The wind had pushed offshore fish against the sand, and we stepped out of the truck to see a quarter-mile-long by 100-yard-wide stretch of frothing water. There were so many fish that we didn’t bother to run down to the water’s edge. We walked. The mayhem before us was filled with squawking gulls, bait-picking terns and plunge-diving shearwaters. There was even a big herd of seals waiting on the back side of the outer bars. Fortunately, they didn’t bother us because the water was too skinny for…

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a whale of a tale

At 63 feet long and weighing more than 60 tons, the old sperm whale was truly a leviathan from the depths. The bull’s ghost gray hide was worn from age and heavily scarred from decades of fights with deep-roaming squid and battles with rival males competing for breeding rights. It was perhaps the latter that pushed the bull from his pod and forced him to hunt the Gulf of Mexico alone. He was pursuing a large school of squid when he suddenly found himself grounded in a mass of seaweed and mud in 12 feet of water. Unable to push forward, the bull thrashed violently and repeatedly slapped the brownish water with his 18-foot-wide tail in an attempt to free himself. Some four miles away, standing atop his steamboat Florida, Captain Cott…

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rattlesnakes among friends

PART I: A YARN FROM THE CAROLINA BEACHES “You boys got to keep your eyes peeled for those diamondbacks,” Pierre said. He was butchering fish by the light of a Coleman, flounder fresh from the creek. “This time of year, they lookin’ for anything warm. Crawl right in your sleeping bag.” Pierre was fixing to put one over on Spanky. Spanky didn’t truck much with snakes. Pierre and Spanky were buddies, down on St. Phillip’s Island, South Carolina, 50-odd years ago. There was Jehovah God, our Sweet Lord Jesus, Moses, assorted prophets both major and minor and then Pierre. He was a riverman and he knew more about this land than God forgot. Dark of the moon. Pierre went gigging on the lowtide slack-water. Flounder and grits for breakfast about dark-thirty, then loose the hounds…

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