The light that fell out of the trees was made up of columns of pale, dusty yellow filtered through an intense quiet, and the earth was soft there, with a clear, cold-water seep murmuring nearby.

—from “Convert” 



American Writers on Bird Dogs 


Edited by Robert DeMott and Dave Smith 

Foreword by Richard Ford 

American Writers on Fly Fishing 


Edited by Robert DeMott 

Foreword by Howell Raines 

A Passion for Grouse

The Lore and Legend of America’s Premier Game Bird 

Edited by Thomas R. Pero 

Introduction by Steve Smith  

The Gigantic Book 
of Hunting Stories 

Edited by Jay Cassell 

Introduction by Thomas McIntyre 

This love I have for the cold waters and the wild trout of the Smoky Mountains began like any great passion—it spun on casual chance, an unplanned meeting of stunning beauty, and smoldering desire.


—from “All the Lovely Water” 

There is a blue-cold wind cutting across the pond tonight. It feels like a woodcock wind—the kind the little russet migrants can ride into Belle’s Cover and flutter down through moonlight to rest in alders beside Thunder River.


—from “Russet Dreams”