Author Archives: Gary Sanderson

A South Deerfield, Mass., native, Gary was the longtime sports editor at the Greenfield Recorder, a daily newspaper in Greenfield, Mass., where he retired in June 2018, having worked parts of five decades over 39 years. A senior-active, nearly 40-year member of the New England Outdoor Writers Association and the Outdoor Writers Association of America, his Thursday column "On The Trail" ran for nearly 40 years, ostensibly focusing on fish and wildlife, conservation and issues pertaining to them in the Connecticut Valley, where his roots reach deep into its oldest burial grounds. He and wife Joanne live in a historic Greenfield Meadows tavern today known as Old Tavern Farm, which has a rich history dating back to the mid-18th century. The home, which became a National-Register-of-Historic-Places building on his watch, served as a small, seasonal bed and breakfast from 1999-2015. Gary's other interests include history, anthropology, archaeology, literature, genealogy, Americana, country auctions, and early-American architecture and landscapes, as well as hunting, fishing and especially reading. His primary focus is the Pioneer Valley, its people, places and critters.

Bare Bones

It always starts in slow-motion, like someone squeezing lightly on an eyedropper full of sweet wildflower honey. Drip … drip … drip. Tediously slow. Like Chinese water torture. Then all hell breaks loose. I always know when it’s coming, the bright sun heating frigid air and warming the black Guilford slates under a deep roof […]

All Riled Up

Whew! What a day, week, month, fresh new year. Freakin’ incredible! Information’s been flying at me like angry white-faced hornets, all of it interrelated, interesting, dynamic and highly contagious. I told my wife the other day that all the details bombarding me have created such a bizarre, glistening labyrinth that I fear I’m going to […]

Radical Reversal

It’s truly difficult coming to grips with rare occasions when I wear conservative stripes in an argument. Yeah, I know. Fancy that! Me conservative? Well, in this case, yes. That’s right, the very same man who’s probed the principals of anarchy and individual sovereignty for 40 years, ever since those formative, seed-planting lectures by Robert […]

Mixed Messages

Standing lonely in its black cardboard slipcase to the right of the monitor on my cluttered mahogany desk is the Folio Society edition of what may well be late American scribe Ambrose Bierce’s finest literary contribution, “The Devil’s Dictionary,” which came into play this week. Hopelessly mired of late in the greasy mud of archaeology, […]

Home Brew

Friends of Wissatinnewag, Jehovah’s Witnesses, orange flames dancing, firewood popping, gasping, even emitting soft screams from the toasty Rumford fireplace. Just a little tease to an interesting weekend. Interesting indeed. It started early. A Friday-morning visit from three experts, among them the widow of the co-author of “Manitou: The Sacred Landscape of New England’s Native […]

Happy Trails

It’s not impressive when, on the way out, you peer over your shoulder from the lip overlooking Sunken Meadow. Just a thin, meandering line in the snow, less than a foot wide, a path to winter fitness and sanity, plus fresh air and exercise for me and the dogs, them cutting tributaries willy-nilly in pursuit […]

Fever Pitch

Whew! A wild Wednesday morning indeed. No complaints. But the craziness kept on coming in the afternoon: the phone, a visit, all stacked atop a disorienting head cold. Oh well, how can a man in my line of work complain when you don’t have to leave the house for nourishing column fodder? I guess it […]

Indian Ridge

My Filson woolens — Woodland-camo, toasty-warm and oh-so silent through winter thickets — are still hanging where I placed them in the carriage shed after Thanksgiving to air out in autumn winds. Yes, and the rugged, insulated hunting boots I twice dressed with different waterproofing oils are ready to go if I get the itch, […]

Last Call

Tuesday morning. Gray and wet. Forecast: clear and cool later, a great time to go out back, get the dogs and break free for a robust hunt through a saturated bottomland swamp of my choice. My guess is that it’ll be t’other side the Connecticut River. Lily and Chubby are restless. Chub-Chub was limping Monday […]

Deerly Departed

Gray and raw, storm brewing, stiff wind blowing from the frigid north: perfect for hunting on the day following an election I’m happy with. So here I sit, dry-docked, pinned to this weekly chore, thinking of late buddy Tommy Valiton, a man who glowed with a boy’s enthusiasm every time he exited his red truck […]

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