hunting and fishing

If you've ever thought about a fisherman's life on the banks of a trout stream or knee-deep in the Bahamian surf, or just contemplated why the seasons change colors, you might want to hitch a ride with Jim Fergus.

The self-described "hook-and-bullet hack" -- in fact, one of the most thoughtful hunting and fishing writers in America, a field editor for Sports Afield magazine -- travels "The Sporting Road" like Kerouac with a fly rod and a 12-gauge, where every stream is a stream of consciousness. As you cruise the blue highways from Washington to Florida, Fergus muses about hunters' patient wives, sharptail grouse, bamboo fly-rods, the coming of snow, bonefishing, Native American culture, lives worth living, the perils facing small towns, good dogs and good friends. There's a certain poetry that emanates from somewhere deep down, an echo of a primitive time, brought up-to-date by Airstream trailers, Coleman grills and, for better or worse, Eddie Bauer.

This is a good book for non-hunters and non-anglers, the most militant of whom assume avid sportsmen have little conscience or intellect. Fergus proves otherwise. He is an eloquent spokesman for the sporting life, not defensive and clearly thoughtful. If you've ever wanted to understand the allure of frigid mornings in high-plains cornfields, or soggy nights on the banks of an unknown river, or why a hunter would drive for two days for a fleeting glimpse of a bird too small for dinner on its own, read "The Sporting Road."

Unfortunatly, for me, I was well past middle age (55) before I ever ventured into the woods with a shotgun looking for some game.

I was very excited about my first hunt and after three days of not seeing any game, I realized that during that time, I had changed ... from a novice hunter to a man in love with the outdoors.

I may not have seen any game but I saw the trees (seemed like the first time) ... and the grass, the river, the lake, the fields, the sun and shadows, the clouds drifting overhead.

I listened to the wind, the sounds the trees make when they rub together, the rustling of the grass.

In spite of the fact that I carried a weapon and moved thru the woods in a preditory mode (or maybe because of it) I experienced a sense of peace and wonder that I hadn't known since I was a child ... and I loved every moment of it.

I felt safe, at one with my surroundings ... I felt like I belonged there.

Reading this book brought me back to that place ... and it made me long to get back in the woods as soon as I can.

This book spoke to my heart.

Thank you Mr. Fergus.

Jim Fergus is one of the few outdoor writers who has succeeded in "crossing the line" that very few of this literary ilk have ever accomplished -- Hemingway, as example, for one. He is no "hook and bullet writer." He is an American writer and, with his best-selling ONE THOUSAND WHITE WOMEN, an American novelist. Jim's talent lies in his ability to place himself, the storyteller, at a distance in order to come up close and personal with the people, places and inspirations that surround him. In this book, as in HUNTER'S ROAD, what he encounters while on the road, hunting birds, with his companion Lab, Sweetzer is his own, personal, high adventure. In recounting these things, Jim does so with the perception of a child -- full of excitement and wonderment -- yet crafted with care by the masterful wordsmith that he has proven to be. It is a potent combination -- and what makes all of Jim's works so unique and compelling. A MUST READ.