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.

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 […]

Lost and Found

There was cause for concern and I could feel it in my hollow chest cavity, like the accelerated heartbeats were exiting my windpipe. Not a great feeling. The wheels were spinning wildly. Had the mother removed it from the litter and hidden it elsewhere in the stable? If so, why? Was it sick? Dead? How […]

Summer Buck

It’s pushing toward dusk on a pleasant summer evening and I’m returning from my nightly trip to the top of the hill where I run my dogs. I round the corner and approach the scalped, lime-green hayfield where the bales had been removed earlier in the day. There it stood — a solitary, erect, tawny […]

Unkindest Cut

Another downtown South Deerfield character became a memory overnight Friday when affable barber Gerald “Jerry” Fortier passed at home in his sleep. Many a yarn was spun in that place of business, not to mention the practical jokes and fibs that kept the daily banter lively, Fortier’s devilish, crooked grin perpetual for his loyal customers. […]

A Whately Hardwood Ridge

An orange dawn crept in over the faraway Belchertown hills, first a faint hue then a bright sliver that, within a half-hour of peeking over the horizon, burst into a blinding orange sphere. Quarter past 7 on a Whately hardwood ridge. An old idyllic haunt of mine reaching back to my untethered teens, a friend […]

There’s No Quit in ‘Bingy’

An alder clump standing sentry on the west bank of an East Colrain spring hole catches the evening sun peeking over the sugar-bush ridge and casts a gray shadow just past the center of the small, light-green, algae-blanketed pond. I’m parked on the farm road, shooting the breeze with the landowner who just happened to […]

Cordwood Blues

There’s nothing like wood heat for my taste. But if the wood isn’t right, well, it’s another story altogether. Then there’s real potential for problems, which is my current predicament, quite annoying. I’ve just brushed off from a trip to the woodshed, a place where I’ve spent far too much time lately, trying to make […]

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