Wrong Willie and I stood in the new shade provided by tender hackberry leaves, watching Delbert P. Axelrod, my personal albatross, wade-fish for crappie.

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Last spring the Hunting Club membership was gathered around the bed of Wrong Willie’s truck in the time-honored tradition of farmers, ranchers and outdoorsmen. To a man, we rested our elbows on three different sides of the truck, hands dangling inside over coolers, fishing gear, tackle boxes…

“The lake is still open for fishing, boating, hiking, all of that kind of stuff, but no camping,” gate attendant Pam Butler said.

As I sloshed along the muddy trail leading to the secluded section of creek I planned to fish, I found myself stopping occasionally not only for a short breather but also to admire the sights and smells of early spring. Buds were swelling on the trees; tiny leaves were beginning to appear. B…

AUSTIN — Amid growing public health concerns, the March meeting of the Texas Parks and Wildlife (TPW) Commission previously scheduled for March 25-26 has been cancelled. All agenda items have been postponed until the May meeting.

After careful evaluation of the ongoing public health situation, Texas State Parks will be limiting park programming and closing public access to park headquarters, visitor centers and park stores starting at noon today.

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The Hunting Club membership was gathered around the large corner booth in Doreen’s 24 HR Eat Gas Now Café, pondering the empty room and a very cranky Doreen.

Around the evening campfire at hunting camp, visiting with some good friends that also enjoy camp cooking, the conversation naturally morphed into the “perfect” or most useful cooking utensil for camp cooking.

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It rained to excess my first year at East Texas State University back in 1974. I’d already finished two years at Eastfield Junior College, and was looking forward to living wild and free in the Commerce dorm.

I was standing in the kitchen, staring downward at the small fish finning in my coffee cup when Wrong Willie came into the house without knocking. He glanced at the cup in my hand.

The Hunting Club membership was gathered in the large corner booth of Doreen’s 24 HR Eat Gas Now Cafe on a frigid February morning. Conversation was scattered, moving from fishing to camping to the fact that we were inside drinking coffee instead of hunting.