Tuesday

March 9, 2010


Jill Easton

January 22, 2010

A bass rises to some unseen bug on the surface, creating ripples across the brown placid waters of Oyster Bayou. I cast my crankbait over the area and begin a slow retrieve just beneath the surface. The bass ignores the rattling, shimmying pest in his world, but from my vantage point under one of the remaining storm-scarred oaks I watch half-a-dozen crappie chase after the intruder.

November 21, 2008

Shhhhhsh, don't tell anyone. We don't want to share; this is a secret. The trout in the White River are the biggest and fattest that anyone around north Arkansas can remember.
This isn't just idle talk, even the Game and Fish Commission's trout biologist agrees.

October 24, 2008

Shotguns kick. That fact is why my ever-loving husband started calling me a wimp. It's become more or less my nickname.

September 19, 2008

Ugly didn't begin to describe "Katrina Reef."

August 8, 2008

Hummingbirds are always in a bad mood. Right now, with migration in full swing, they're grouchier than ever.

August 23, 2001

Fall's trying to break through the summer. It's only a shadow so far: the cool of an early morning breeze, cicadas in the trees, sumac beginning to show red. But it's there, lurking, waiting.