Story Fair 2023

Written By: Gary Tunkavige. Sparta, NJ I call the covert Spring Willow.  A whimsical name.  I wish I could say that I thought up this name, but that was done by someone else.  It is an abandoned farm on a ridge set back from the Delaware River separating New Jersey and Pennsylvania.  A winding driveway leads to a frame farmhouse now being consumed by vines and brush.  There is a large barn on the verge of collapse and several other small out-buildings.  The remnants of small pens likely held chickens and goats.  An old farm lane starts behind the...

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Written By: Zack Pine. Tannersville, NY Grouse hunting is a game of miles, of constantly striking out. A game of humility and of patience. Grouse hunting is getting spooked by a flushed bird at your feet, not being ready, being trigger shy, never fully seeing the bird, my first grouse I almost shot I had a beautiful flush, had the bead of my gun on him went to pull the trigger and nothing, the safety was on and the grouse was gone. After that, Is when I started practicing switching off the safety as I raise the butt my...

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Written By: Ralph Fatello. Hampton, NH I have been hunting a covert that I call “The Cellar Hole” for the last 10 years. It’s basically an old foundation from the early 1700’s. There are trees that have grown up inside of what used to be someone’s old farmhouse here in New England. There are many of these old remnants of yesteryear all throughout New England. This spot has always been a place that holds birds. I’ve taken a few woodcock out of there every season, and I love hunting there as it’s one of my secret coverts that I...

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Written By: Dan Riley. Winslow, ME It was early January when I received a letter from NAVHDA that my young female Brittany, Willow, qualified for the invitational after earning a perfect score on a qualifying test.  This testing event is an opportunity for Willow to earn the title of versatile hunting dog champion.  The test site would take place in Ohio.  My dad grew up in Ironton, OH.  Dick Dilley who helped me train my first hunting dog who is also a member of our chapter happened to grow up in the same exact town. This odd coincidence along with...

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Written By: Randy Lawrence. Junction City, OH It felt more like driving the getaway rig for a jailbreak than leaving for a hunting trip.  I would pull into the Honda plant parking lot just before 11, Lyle’s dogs and mine settled in their crates, Lyle’s gun and gear stowed behind the front seats.  I’d find a spot where I could watch the main door, idling the truck, listening to late-night Reds and Bengals talk on the 50,000 watt radio station out of Cincinnati.  It was always easy to spot my friend among the second trick autoworkers.  Lyle was the...

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Written By: Herb Evert. Cottage Grove, WI Camped on the bank of the Peshtigo river in far northeastern Wisconsin, that stream of deceitfully quiet water between stretches of tumbling rapids, my brother and I, with a quartet of Springers between us, relax as the setting sun closes out a spectacular Indian summer day. All day we tramped the forested terrain in search of thunder chickens and timber doodles and we are bone weary. The grouse families of summer have already dispersed and the woodcock have not yet begun their southward trek so flushes have been few and far between....

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