By Roger Emile Stouff
Not getting out much. Who can stand it? Polar bears, I guess. Grouse and ducks, and foxes.
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 By Mike Sepelak Silence. Crisp, wintery silence. No, not exactly silence. Something better. By H.B. Rushing Jr. The year was nineteen sixty nine mid March in the town of Baton Rouge Louisiana. A humble but proud man and his young wife had a son. Here I am the eldest of three children, nicknamed “Blackie” because of my dark complexion. As the years passed and I grew into the boy [...] Due to the increasing obligations and demands the three of us have on our time, we’ve made a few changes.  By Karl (Trout Whisperer) Seckinger |
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