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.

Camp Meat

They’re raising a ruckus in the sleepy Hampshire County hilltown of Chesterfield, where officials are threatening to shut down a longtime camp on a Boy Scout reservation in a dispute over a temporary summer shooting range. Although I don’t intend to research and devote a lot of time to the case — surely, much to […]

Coy Dogs

Another evening phone call at my Recorder desk that got my wheels spinning. Gotta love it. The caller was a dear old friend, one I see far too little of now that we’ve “grown up” and gone our separate ways. That’s life. But he touches base now and again, usually at my workplace, to rattle […]

A Proud NIMBY

I’m coming out. Jumping into this ”biomess” fiasco. Can’t resist. I was, at first, reluctant to enter the dustup for many reasons, not the least of which is that a forester I am not. Also, I myself heat with wood, annually sending seven cords’ worth of smoke billowing skyward from October to May. So who […]

Out & About

On the road again, me and an old codger, he a spry octogenarian. We were following e-mail leads from Conway readers commenting on last week’s column about my visit to Conway’s first cellar hole, that of Cyrus Rice, circa 1763, now hidden in a manicured 350-acre wood lot. The tips led me to Shirkshire, to […]

A Path to Why

If perceptive, you pay attention to what’s going on around you and, in the process, life proves interesting as you poke and prod for enlightening information that helps form your conception of place and where you fit. Since moving to Greenfield at the end of the last millennium, I must admit I’ve become more fine-tuned […]

Patten Squire

What I remember most about the late Ellsworth Barnard was the day I met him and wife Mary at their forested cabin in Shelburne’s Patten District, five miles up the hill from my Greenfield Meadows home. It was back in the late 1990s, probably 1998, which would have made him 90 or 91. I had […]

Stink Bait

By now, the stink bait must be getting pretty ripe, sun-baked in a covered, five-gallon, galvanized pail with a bail handle — what we used to call garbage cans back in the day. If you’re confused, relax, you just aren’t familiar with catfishermen and the bait they use. Aficionados brew special bait for a catfish […]

A Better Way?

A large, plump crescent moon slumped lazily on end just above the Shelburne hills, leaning slightly northward like a giant overripe cantaloupe wedge in the hot, hazy western sky as I drove home from work late Tuesday night. I’m not sure whether its wry grin, mellow orange hue or both got my nostalgic juices flowing, […]

Old Hickory

A skunky summer it has been. Skunks everywhere. Night and day. Seriously. I’ve been living with these pesky omnivores and their piercing odor for weeks. In fact, as I sit at the keyboard, the stench wafts from my fingers and red golf shirt, both victims of an otherwise uneventful walk with the dogs Tuesday night; […]

Hilltown Spin

A while back during that invigorating January thaw, shady midday thermometer creeping toward 60, my hunting buddy and I decided to poke along through our tranquil northern hills, just looking for stuff. We weren’t far from Vermont, and the roads and bare southern exposures had the soggy suggestion of our northern neighbor in April, premature […]

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