Author Archives: Tom Reed

Nearly half a year of memories wash over me. Five months of following a fleet of setters across the hills and fields. Five long months of birds before the gun on some days, and no birds anywhere on others. These … Continue reading →

It is the land. This place of bitter winds west, then north, then south, then east. This place of sagebrush taller than the running lights on a diesel one-ton. This place of clattering shale. This place of cold stream in … Continue reading →

There is a game I play not far from where I lay my head each night. The game is the game of dogs and birds and big canvas. It is a game of otherworldly noses that belong to some higher … Continue reading →

We do this dance each year and not often enough: a trio of gaited fast-moving horses, a brace of gun dogs, a sprawl of wide country. Shotguns in scabbards, bird dogs out in it, horses mounted. We ride. The first … Continue reading →

Evening is the quiet road. The hunt is squeezed by daylight, the ridge has been climbed in a frenzy of pumping heart and heaving lung. The shotgun has barked, once, twice. Fresh dog work for the young Griffon, old hat … Continue reading →

Pre-dawn rise. Collars charged, canine chargers kenneled in the pickup. Black sky and drizzle. Fog. All four released into tall grass and ripening berry. Fur wet through to skin. Running hard and hunting as if it were the last day … Continue reading →

. . . warm motel rooms . . . home-cooked meals . . .  local watering holes . . . rural day-spas . . . comrades in arms . . . the scent of the quarry . . . the … Continue reading →

It was cool this morning when I walked the dogs down by the creek. Cool enough for a fleece, cool enough to fire the engine in anticipation of another season. On this, the last best month of summer, I find … Continue reading →

Green arrives more suddenly than brown, I have decided. A month ago, I was in southwestern Missouri buying fast-walking horses that will keep up with my bird dogs this fall. One day it rained, the kind of rain that pounds … Continue reading →

I can’t believe my luck. I came up to the bar for one drink–a gin and tonic, naturally–and left with $2,000 damage to my car. The Pony Bar. The world famous Pony Bar, Pony, Montana. My bar. Three miles up … Continue reading →