“Tradition is not the worship of ashes but the preservation of fire.”
- G. Mahler
Too little upland writing and imagery, particularly in regard to the West, inspires us or seems to reflect our reality. We feel the need for fresh voices that articulate the experience as we know it – wild, elusive birds in massive country, imperfect dogs (and people), dirtbag camps, dirty field guns, trucks stuck in the mud, days spent putting miles on the boots with nothing to show for it, and yes, even a little red stuff now and then. We believe it’s possible to both honor the tradition of our sport and still write in the unsanitized, non-nostalgic present. Is it possible to bring this whole “upland thing” down a notch and take it to a new level at the same time? To have a sense of humor about it? We’re gonna try.
We like to get after it far from the beaten track whenever possible, though we’re not immune to a little luxury now and then, likely in the form of a dented flask and a good view from the tailgate. Temper this brew with a generous dose of dry irreverence and appreciation for the absurdity of our pursuit – an ingrained, hardwired obsession that truly haunts us, no less than our dogs, for half the year while we wait for opening day.
You won’t find any “how-to” articles here, though you may find the occasional example of “how-not-to.” Besides, there are already plenty of other places for that sort of information – some of it even useful in our experience.
We’re here instead to celebrate the “whys” and delve deep into the soul of this thing. So throw your gear and your dog in the back and let’s go. We’ll try to be back by dinner time, but you know how that goes. You might want to bring a headlamp…