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.

Cy’s Cellar

People often ask why I write about locations I’m unwilling to pinpoint. The answer is simple: Maps draw crowds that compromise special places, which soon lose their sacred status, be they fishing holes, deer stands, strut zones or historic sites buried under a forest canopy. I found such a site just this week, one I […]

Peter’s Grief

There was nothing unusual at the start of our telephone conversation last week, me at my Recorder desk, he his New Salem home, after dark. Pretty typical for my rambling chats over the years with Peter Mallett, brainchild/promoter in chief of the Miller River Fishermen’s Association. An affable sort, he’s always been upbeat and enthusiastic […]

River Ramble

Yes, the brook’s roaring, the songbirds’re singing, the snowbanks’re shrinking, and my last load of cordwood’s drying ever so slowly, stacked under the eaves of the sunny carriage sheds. No, it isn’t time for stream-fishing here in the northern tier of Franklin County. Too much snow, way too much, in fact; even worse, annoying mud […]

Rebel Retreat

An undisturbed snowplow ridge told the story: It had been months since a four-wheeled vehicle had driven the aboriginal trail that became a Colonial path, then a well-used thoroughfare from Williamsburg to Conway until discontinued around 1950. Because the mud season hadn’t yet arrived, I decided to give it a shot, convinced I’d stay atop […]

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 […]

Mad Meg theme designed by BrokenCrust for WordPress © | Top