Ghost Stories and Gunpowder: A North Carolina Hunter’s Night at Mansfield Plantation
The Jarrett Ridge Walker makes the trip across the pond.
A South Carolina Hunter Makes the Trip to His Favorite Place to hunt Mule Deer and finds luck in the Midday
If it seems like you hear more owls in autumn than at other times of the year, your ears aren’t deceiving you. Fall is often called ‘Hooting Season’ because owls become more vocal as they establish territories and seek mates for their winter breeding.
A Southern Roots + Global Adventure Magazine
Michael Maynor
is a proud native of North Carolina with a deep love for the sporting lifestyle and everything Southern. My book collection seems to grow endlessly, and I have a particular fondness for collecting vintage duck decoys. Despite appearing content, my heart longs to return to Africa for another safari adventure. John 3:16.
Instagram @feathersandwhiskey
Sam Comey
is a native of Florida, where she was born into a ranching and hunting family.God’s plan led her to Texas and to her native Texan husband, who is an avid hunter and outdoorsman. She worked alongside him as interior designer for his construction company until she began staying home full time with their two children.
Instagram @antlersandarchitecture
Robbie Perdue
is a native North Carolinian who enjoys cooking, butchery, and is passionate about all things BBQ. He straddles two worlds as an IT professional and a farmer who loves heritage livestock and heirloom vegetables. His perfect day would be hunting deer, dove, or ducks then babysitting his smoker while watching the sunset over the black water of Lake Waccamaw
Cecil Cherry
is an avid outdoorsman and sportsman originally from Eastern North Carolina. Cecil grew up on a tobacco and hog farm and still enjoys the rural life. He has apssion for waterfowl, upland, and big game hunting. He loves the idea of field to plate and enjoys cooking all of his harvests and cannot wait for the next hunt.
Instagram @cvcherry
Stan Courtnay
is an avid outdoorsman from central South Carolina. His passion for Western big game hunting has him traveling across the country a half dozen times a year. His occupation is in the Parks and Recreation field. When he is not hunting he and his wife, Kaitlin are involved in their local church and going to the gym.
Instagram @sclivingoutdoors
Cameron Kirby
is a native of the Pacific Northwest who enjoys exploring wild places with his family and friends. An avid outdoorsman and naturalist, he enjoys hunting, fishing, a good book, and an even better whiskey. His writing has been published in several publications, where he shares his passion for the outdoors and storytelling.
Instagram @tradekraft
Doug Pelton
is a South Carolina transplant who now proudly calls the Old North State home. A lifelong outdoorsman, he’s happiest chasing trout with a fly rod, Bobwhite quail with his English pointers and a vintage shotgun, or exploring the African bush. When not in the field, he enjoys reading tales from the golden age of safari and spending time with his family enjoying all the Carolinas have to offer.
Instagram @outdoorsmanclassics
Chris Douglas
is a proud son of North Carolina who left an international career in film to showcase the state he loves. As creator and host of Carolina ALL OUT, he roams from mountains to coast sharing his passion for the outdoors. A devoted hunter with a love for hounds, Chris values faith, family, and the blessings the Lord has given.
YouTube at @CarolinaALLOUT.
To Southern Autumn, With Whiskey!
Fall has a way of wrapping itself around you like an old quilt. The mornings turn crisp, the air carries the scent of woodsmoke, and the golden light makes even the simplest moments feel sacred. In the South, autumn is more than a season—it’s a way of life. We’re chasing deer through hardwood bottoms, pulling on sweaters for Friday night lights, picking apples, and gathering around tables heavy with comfort food and laughter.
This issue is our tribute to that feeling—to the rhythm of life when the heat of summer fades and the land exhales. Inside, you’ll find stories that celebrate tradition and craft: the harvests that feed us, the hunts that bond us, and the gatherings that remind us of what truly matters. From field to kitchen, from porch to campfire, we honor the season’s bounty and the people who make it meaningful.
So pour yourself a glass of bourbon, step out onto the porch, and take in the beauty of a Southern autumn. May these pages remind you that the best stories aren’t just told—they’re lived, one golden evening at a time.
Welcome to Feathers & Whiskey. Wildly Refined.
The Shoppes at The Charleston Place Hotel
Michael Maynor Editor-in-Chief
Our first article, which was published in the January 2025 Feathers & Whiskey issue, introduced what Antlers & Architecture is all about. To recap: taxidermy is often stigmatized by interior design channels, leading to a significant underrepresentation of how to incorporate it into homes.
SAM COMEY MAKES HER CASE ON WHY YOUR KITCHEN MIGHT JUST NEED THAT TOUCH OF THE WILD!
The goal of Antlers & Architecture’s Instagram page is to feature as many different styles as possible with as many different animal elements as possible. Together with Feathers & Whiskey, we’re going to tackle each room in the home via these articles to help homeowners struggling to combine their passion with their décor as best as we can.
For our first “themed” column, we’re heading to an unlikely place: the kitchen. Living rooms and offices are the most common places for mounts to go. But what about where you cook and prepare meals?
Part of the allure of taxidermy is how it serves as unique and daring art. Where the more ordinary house may have a mirror or picture print, the more adventurous home has an oryx. And if we’re playing by adventurous ‘rules’, who says mounts can only go in the more traditional areas of a house?
If you have a modern kitchen, a mount can serve as a stand-alone art piece that adds drama to the space. W a traditional or French country styled kitchen, a mount delivers an unmatched old-world flair. If you have a farmhouse styled kitchen, antlers add that rustic edge to complete the look, just as they can in any room of the home.
But where to start? How to place?
A head mount most often looks best as a focal point, just as when centered on fireplaces in living rooms or as two mounts flanking a fireplace. No matter which room we’re discussing, we are always thinking about balance. There are exceptions to every rule (and you know we love breaking rules) but centering a mount over a sink or an oven hood is one of the best options.
If hanging a skull or head mount seems too daunting, start with smaller elements. Antlers on open shelving or counter tops are subtle ways to begin incorporating the wilderness with the indoors. Pheasant or turkey feathers in vases can be added anywhere - in your cookery should be no different. In my personal home, I collect kitchen antiques to display; they make me feel connected to my ancestors whilst I labor in the kitchen, which is both empowering and comforting. Sharing recipes with those who lived many decades ago and serving my children what they ate creates an ethereal experience at mealtimes. (It also makes me feel grateful for my electric mixer while gazing upon a manual hand mixer from the late 1800s.)
One thing I collect in particular are antique English crocks - gorgeous handmade little pots that were used hundreds of years ago to hold and preserve foods like butter, salted meats, and pickled vegetables. I use them as decorative pots; stick some feathers in them and they make the most beautiful rustic little arrangements.
If setting actual antlers, feathers or skulls out in your kitchen is currently still too big of a step, there is yet another smaller step. Many companies sell beautiful home décor items with antlers on them – Arthur Court is a personal favorite. I was gifted an Arthur Court paper towel holder that resides by my kitchen sink that I adore for both its beauty and subtle nod to hunting.
Whether you want to hang a Blackbuck on your oven hood or set a small antler shed on a shelf, I hope you feel encouraged to incorporate whatever you want wherever you want – even in an unexpected place like the kitchen. - A&A
If you’re displaying a taxidermy mount in your kitchen, care for it just as you would in any other part of your home. Keep it away from excessive heat, dust it regularly, and avoid placing it in direct sunlight to prevent fading. With these simple precautions, your mount will maintain its appearance for years to come.
Every year, as the last days of summer linger, one of the most searched questions online resurfaces: When is too early to decorate for fall? It’s a debate that blends tradition, personal taste, and even a touch of friendly neighborhood rivalry.
The truth is, there’s no hard rule. Many households begin easing into the season in late August, especially as back-toschool season signals a shift in mood. September, right after Labor Day, is the most popular time to start — pumpkins, wreaths, and autumn color palettes appear on porches across the South. Others prefer to wait until October, letting pumpkins, mums, and Halloween décor mark the true arrival of fall.
At Feathers & Whiskey, we believe fall decorating isn’t about a date on the calendar — it’s about creating warmth and welcome in your home. If that means you’re hanging a wreath while the summer sun still lingers, or waiting until the first crisp morning to bring out the pumpkins, the right time is simply when it feels right to you. F&W
Guide
Early Birds: Late August
Most Popular: September (Labor Day onward)
Pumpkin Time: October
It’s hard to talk about fall without pumpkins—and nearly impossible to mention pumpkins without pie. Few things capture a crisp autumn day better than a warm slice and a good cup of coffee. Here’s a simple pumpkin pie recipe that’ll have you saying, “Autumn skies and pumpkin pies!”
1 (15 oz) can pumpkin puree
1 (14 oz) can sweetened
Condensed milk
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground
nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 (9-inch) unbaked pie crust
Prepare Filling: In a large mixing bowl, combine the pumpkin puree, sweetened condensed milk, eggs, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and salt. Mix until well blended and pour into crust!
Bake in the preheated oven for 15 minutes. Then, reduce the oven temperature to 350°F (175°C) and continue baking for 35-40 minutes, or until a knife inserted near the center comes out clean.
There’s something timeless about keeping things neutral for fall and Halloween. You don’t always need bold orange and black — soft creams, aged whites, and touches of gold and brass bring a quiet, haunting beauty to the season. Think of it as “autumn elegance with a ghostly whisper.”
There’s nothing I love more than sinking into a chair with a good ghost story, especially when October shadows stretch across the Southland. These three books bring the haunts, legends, and mysteries of our region to life—perfect for a spooky night’s read.
Edgar Allan Poe arrived in Charleston in November 1827 under stormy circumstances, having enlisted in the U.S. Army six months earlier under the alias Edgar A. Perry. His time at Fort Moultrie on Sullivan’s Island, lasting more than a year, remains cloaked in mystery because Poe deliberately concealed his service. Yet the Lowcountry left a lasting mark on his imagination, inspiring “The Gold-Bug” and perhaps the real Annabel Lee. Author Christopher Byrd Downey uncovers this hidden chapter of Poe’s Charleston years.
From the Atlantic shore to the Blue Ridge peaks, North Carolina is steeped in ghost stories, folklore, and eerie legends that whisper through its towns and backroads. In the Shadows of the Pines gathers thirteen lesser-known tales—rarely told, often forgotten—that span the mysterious, the humorous, the heartbreaking, and the bonechilling. Serving as a companion to Haunting the Outer Banks, this collection opens a new chapter of spine-tingling lore from across the
This collection of twenty-three tales draws from the fantastical and macabre folklore of Charleston’s Gullah community in the nineteenth century. Ghosts, conjuring, supernatural feats, and eerie mysteries fill its pages, blending humor, terror, and tradition. Passed down through generations, these stories reveal both the richness of African American culture and the haunted spirit of the Lowcountry.
angusbarn.com
If you’re looking for a Raleigh dining experience that combines Southern charm with steakhouse sophistication, The Angus Barn is a must-visit. On my latest visit, I sampled their bone-in ribeye served Oscar style, topped with sweet, delicate crab meat—a perfect marriage of surf and turf. Every bite was rich and flavorful, cooked to perfection, and elevated by the buttery crab topping.
For dessert, the chocolate pie stole the show with its decadent, velvety layers, a sweet ending to a hearty meal. But the real surprise came at the bar: the Maker’s Mark “Private Selection”, crafted exclusively by the spirits experts at The Angus Barn. This bourbon is wonderfully smoky with subtle notes of maple and a hint of pancakes that linger on the palate—truly a unique and memorable pour.
Whether you’re a steak lover, dessert enthusiast, or bourbon connoisseur, The Angus Barn offers a dining experience that satisfies on every level. From the rustic charm of the barn-inspired interiors to the thoughtful attention to detail in each dish and drink, it’s easy to see why this Raleigh institution has stood the test of time.
Matt Tumlinson is a multifaceted artist, raised in rural central Texas, currently residing in San Antonio. Although his career as a full time artist began in 2014, art has been a common thread and constant presence throughout his life. His work has been showcased in fine art galleries throughout the country and with collectors from around the world. Matt Tumlinson is currently represented by The La Jolla Gallery- La Jolla, California, The Copper Shade Tree Gallery- Round Top, Texas, and Texas Treasures Fine Art- Boerne, Texas. | tumlinsonart.com
By Robbie Perdue
If you think you can just roll up and stroll into John G’s BBQ, think again. This Carolina institution doesn’t just serve food—it commands respect. To experience the full glory of smoky brisket, ribs, and those legendary sides, you need a plan. Here’s your step-by-step guide to conquering the line and leaving satisfied.
8:00 AM – Arrival: The Early Bird Gets the Brisket
John G. opens at 11, but the wise know the line forms long before that. By 8 AM, you should be in place. Bring a folding chair, a cup of coffee, and a playlist, because patience is part of the ritual. Chat with your neighbors—you’ll quickly find kindred spirits, all united in the quest for perfect barbecue.
9:00 AM – Breakfast Comes Alive
By 9, breakfast hits the grill. Fresh kolaches, breakfast tacos, and other morning delights start rolling out. It’s the perfect warm-up for what’s coming later and keeps your stomach happy for the main event. Tip: grab a kolache or taco to fuel your patience in line.
The people really set the tone for the meal to come. The staff really loves the BBQ and takes pride in making sure each plate is Instagram worthy
9:00 – 9:30 AM – The Meat Check
Between 9 and 9:30, John G’s staff will circulate the line, asking each group which meats they plan to buy and roughly how much. While there’s no pre-ordering, this is an important step—they use this to gauge how quickly items might run out and plan accordingly. Pay attention and answer honestly: it could mean the difference between getting brisket or missing out.
10:00 AM –
By 10, the grown-up magic begins: beer becomes available. Nothing pairs with smoked meats like a crisp, cold brewskie, and this early access ensures you can sip while the sun rises over the parking lot and the scent of that magic smoke fills the air
11:00 AM – Doors Open: Showtime
When 11 AM rolls around, the line finally starts moving. Those who planned, endured the morning chill, and navigated the meat check are rewarded with the full John G’s experience. Plates piled high with brisket, Cheerwine sausage, and Feathers & Whiskey favorites like brisket fried rice await. And don’t forget the beans—they’re the perfect accompaniment to round out your feast.
Dress in layers; mornings can be brisk, and afternoons can scorch.
Be attentive during the meat check— knowing what’s left ensures you get your favorites.
Stay friendly. BBQ is sacred, but camaraderie in line makes the morning fly.
• Brisket—smoky, tender, and the star of the show.
• Pork Burnt Ends—rich, caramelized bites you won’t want to share.
• Brisket Fried Rice—a creative twist that showcases John G’s mastery.
• Brown Sugar Smoked Beans—because no BBQ plate is complete without them!
By following this timeline, you’re not just going to John G’s BBQ—you’re experiencing it the way the South intended. Hunger is inevitable, patience is mandatory, and satisfaction is guaranteed. F&W
OCTOBER 31, 2025
3:00 PM- 11:00 PM Bynum, NC
When the curtain falls, the music doesn’t always stop.
On a quiet night in Nashville, the Ryman Auditorium feels less like a theater and more like a cathedral. Wooden pews creak as if someone just took a seat, stained glass windows flicker with passing headlights, and the stage hums with memory. The “Mother Church of Country Music” has heard every note of laughter and heartbreak, fiddle and hymn. And some say it still does—long after the stars have gone.
The Grand Ole Opry is set to celebrate its centennial this November, a milestone for the radio show that gave country music its pulpit. But alongside the legends who walked its stage comes a chorus of ghost stories, whispered by staff, echoed in late-night tours, and kept alive by those who swear not all the Opry’s performers ever left.
Part of the Opry’s haunted lore comes not just from the building, but from the lives of its brightest stars—lives that burned brilliantly and ended far too soon. Hank Williams Sr., the drifting troubadour who poured his pain into songs like I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry, died in the backseat of a Cadillac on New Year’s Day, 1953. He was just 29. His restless spirit, they say, still lingers in the Ryman’s
alleyways, footsteps echoing where he once slipped into the night.
A decade later, Patsy Cline’s soaring voice was silenced when her plane went down in a storm outside Camden, Tennessee. She was only 30, yet left behind a body of work that still fills the Ryman’s rafters with aching beauty. Staff and musicians alike swear they’ve heard her voice after hours—a soft chorus on an empty stage, as though Patsy herself couldn’t bear to leave the Opry behind.
It’s tragedies like these that deepen the Opry’s mystique. The Ryman is not just a stage, it’s a memorial. Every note sung there feels layered atop those who came before, and some say that in the quietest hours, the veil between past and present grows thin. The Opry is a place where songs never truly die—and neither, perhaps, do the singers.
Hank Williams Sr. sang his last Opry song in 1952, yet his voice seems reluctant to quit the stage. Stagehands and security guards tell of faint singing drifting down darkened corridors, of footsteps in the alley where Hank once slipped out after shows. Some claim to see a tall, lanky figure in a suit and hat, vanishing as quickly as he appears. In life, Hank was the restless heart of honky-tonk. In death, perhaps he remains the restless spirit of the Ryman.
Long before country music was born, Captain Thomas Ryman built the tabernacle as a home for revival. Some say he has never left. Patrons report a stern man in the balcony, surveying the pews as if counting his flock. Others sense only the weight of eyes on them, especially when they linger too long in the shadows. Perhaps Captain Ryman simply wants to make sure his “church” is still serving its congregation—even if the gospel has become three chords and the truth.
“Some songs don’t stop at the last note.”
Not all voices in the Ryman are male. More than one staffer swears that after the hall goes dark, a woman’s voice rises from the stage, sweet and sorrowful. They call her Patsy. Whether or not it’s truly Cline, the thought chills the air—her tragic plane crash forever bound her to Opry lore. The sound is fleeting, but it lingers like perfume, proof enough for those who’ve heard it that Patsy still has an encore.
The Opry left the Ryman in 1974, trading downtown for the modern Opry House near Opryland. Yet even there, the spirits seem to follow. Guests and staff whisper of the “Lady in Black,” a veiled woman who drifts through hotel corridors and Opryland grounds. Some link her to the McGavock family, whose old plantation once stood on the site. Others believe she is a symbol— reminding the Opry that you can build new walls, but you cannot outrun history.
Skeptics will tell you these are stories for the tourists, shadows mistaken for spirits, voices mistaken for drafts. Yet the tales endure. The Ryman itself leans into the lore each October, offering Haunted History Tours that pull back the curtain on a stage where gospel, country, and the supernatural overlap. Whether you believe or not, it’s hard to deny that the Opry has always carried something larger than life.
Every theater has its ghosts, but the Opry’s hauntings feel different. They are stitched into the soul of country music, a genre built on heartbreak, memory, and echoes of the past. Perhaps Hank, Patsy, Lula, and Captain Ryman aren’t “ghosts” in the usual sense at all— just stories too strong to silence. And as the Opry celebrates its 100th birthday, it’s worth remembering that the stage belongs not only to those who stand on it, but to those who still linger in the wings. If you want to plan your own trip to see a act at the opry living or... you can visit opry.com
One year ago, Hurricane Helene slammed into western North Carolina, unleashing record rainfall, fierce winds, floods, and landslides that ripped homes from foundations, overwhelmed rivers, and cut apart roads and bridges. In the months since, communities have begun the long and painful process of recovery — restoring water and power, repairing damaged roads, clearing debris, and rebuilding homes. The scars are deep: students displaced, entire mountain slopes reshaped by landslides, towns still facing isolation while access is restored. Yet through it all, North Carolinians have shown their grit, determination, and willingness to help their neighbors in need
Feathers & Whiskey stands with all who were touched by this storm — we have not forgotten. We pray for the loved ones lost and honor their memory. As rebuilding continues, we pledge to support those still in need, to encourage fair recovery, and to lift up voices in the hardest-hit areas. We urge you to donate if you are able and to consider visiting western North Carolina — your support through tourism, volunteering, and giving can make a meaningful difference in helping our mountain communities heal and rise again.
Scenes like this were once a familiar sight across North Carolina and much of the South—two boys riding a tobacco sled pulled by the family mule. The mule was the backbone of Southern farms, vital to daily life and survival. Though the days of vast tobacco fields and mule-drawn sleds have faded, the connection to the land endures. Through Red Mule, we hope to honor that heritage and keep the stories of Southern farming alive.
By Robbie Perdue
Creating a wildlife food plot that attracts deer and wild turkey is about more than just providing food—it’s about designing a selfsustaining ecosystem that works in harmony with nature. By incorporating permaculture principles and perennial plants, you can establish a food plot that not only attracts wildlife but also thrives for generations with minimal maintenance.
To ensure a year-round food supply for both deer and turkey, plant species should be chosen for their ability to provide food throughout the seasons. Here are the best perennial trees and shrubs to include in your food plot:
Persimmon (Diospyros virginiana)
Attracts: Deer and turkey are drawn to persimmons in the late fall when the fruit ripens. The tree thrives in poor soils and is low-maintenance, providing a reliable food source.
Plum (Prunus spp.)
Attracts: Wild turkey and deer feed on the fruit of plum trees in late summer. Plums are an excellent early-season food for both species.
Crab Apple (Malus spp.)
Attracts: Deer love the small apples, and turkeys feed on the fruit in late summer and fall. Crab apples also support pollinators, benefiting the entire ecosystem.
Honey Locust (Gleditsia triacanthos)
Attracts: Deer enjoy the sweet pods of honey locust, especially in winter, and wild turkeys also forage for the pods, which provide a high-protein food source.
Blackberries (Rubus spp.)
Attracts: Blackberries provide sweet berries for deer and turkey in late summer and early fall. The thick growth also offers shelter for other wildlife, such as quail.
Hazelnut (Corylus americana)
Attracts: Hazelnut trees produce nuts that attract deer, wild turkey, and other small mammals like squirrels. The nuts are a high-energy food source in fall.
When designing your food plot, it’s essential to consider both the height and size of each plant to create a functional, sustainable layout. Here’s how you can design an effective, long-lasting plot:
Layering for Efficiency: Place taller trees like persimmon, plum, and honey locust at the back or center of the plot, depending on sunlight exposure. These trees will act as a canopy, providing shelter for smaller plants and wildlife.
Mid-Level Trees: Crab apples and hazelnut trees should be planted at mid-level positions, ensuring they get adequate sunlight but don’t get overshadowed by taller trees. They will provide a secondary layer of food and shelter.
Ground Cover: Use the front or open areas for ground cover such as white clover. This leguminous plant provides a low-maintenance, high-protein food source for deer and turkey and helps improve soil health by fixing nitrogen.
Placement: At one end of the rectangle, set up a deer stand or ground blind to observe or hunt the wildlife that comes to feed. This should be strategically placed to offer a clear line of sight into the plot, ensuring a good view of the entire area.
Diverse, Perennial Planting: By focusing on perennial trees and shrubs, you minimize the need for replanting year after year. These species will continue to provide food without constant intervention.
Soil Health: Plants like white clover naturally improve soil quality by fixing nitrogen, which benefits other trees and shrubs. This creates a more resilient, sustainable ecosystem that doesn’t rely on synthetic fertilizers or pesticides.
Water and Shelter: Ensure the plot has easy access to water—whether from a pond, stream, or rain collection system. The trees provide shelter for wildlife, while the clover and shrubs offer food and ground cover.
Creating a sustainable wildlife food plot using permaculture principles and perennial plants like persimmons, plums, crab apples, honey locust, blackberries, and hazelnuts is an effective way to provide long-term nourishment for deer and wild turkey. By designing your plot with a thoughtful mix of plant heights and spacing, you can create a thriving, low-maintenance habitat that attracts and sustains wildlife year after year. With careful planning and respect for the land, your wildlife food plot can support a diverse ecosystem for generations to come.
The Enduring Art of the Southern Day Afield.
Where the Southern hunting season and college football Saturdays begin—with birds, buddies, and a box of shells.
In the South, the arrival of September means two things: the roar of college football and the sharp report of a shotgun echoing across a sun-drenched field. Dove season is the unofficial opener to our hunting calendar—a time-honored tradition that signals more than just the pursuit of game. It’s the kickoff to months of camaraderie, storytelling, and time spent outdoors with old friends and new. Just like a Saturday under stadium lights, the dove field brings people together—tailgates turn to tail feathers, and every bird flushed is a reminder that another season has begun. F&W
By Cecil Cherry
The ferry bringing me back from Daufuskie Island had just arrived at Hilton Head Island. I was returning from a weekend spent duck hunting on Daufuskie with three friends, Captain Eddie, David, and Lucas, that outdoor writer Roger Pinckney introduced me to in December 2023. A fourth friend, Jim, was unable to make this hunting trip due to prior commitments. Sadly, Roger passed away in April 2024.
Jim and I had spoken earlier the week before and he invited me to stop over on Sunday evening for a Monday morning duck hunt at Mansfield Plantation. If Mansfield Plantation sounds familiar, it could be because Mansfield was used by Hollywood as the plantation that was burned by the British army in the Mel Gibson movie, “The Patriot.” Jim is the manager of Mansfield and oversees the day-to-day operations. Jim said he would put me up in a cabin and I could spend the night. I quickly accepted the invite. I said I would treat him to breakfast the next morning for such hospitality. He told me to call him when I got near Charleston.
As I drove to the Charleston exit, I called Jim and told him my ETA. He said to meet him at the Walmart in Georgetown, South Carolina. Jim warned me ducks would be scarce due to a winter ice storm that hit a few days before I left North Carolina, so our hunt was called off. Jim said we could still hang out and he would show me around the plantation though.
As I drove into the parking lot of the Walmart, I immediately saw Jim. He asked me to follow him to the plantation. We soon arrived at Mansfield Plantation, turning off the highway and seemingly traveling back in time a couple of hundred years. As we drove nearly two miles into the interior of the property, we arrived at brick arches that formed a gate, and the road was lined with beautiful, centuries old hardwood trees. I nearly expected to see Rhett Butler waiting to greet us.
The main house and guest house were beautiful. We soon took the million-dollar tour of the plantation grounds on a sideby-side vehicle. Jim gave me the history of the area and the plantation. What is now the town of Georgetown was originally settled by Spanish explorers in 1526 and was formally founded in 1729, and named after King George II. Mansfield Plantation is located on the banks of the Black River on nearly 1000 acres, and was founded in 1718, a full 11 years before the town of Georgetown. The property includes a steam powered rice thresher, an enslaved persons chapel and village, the winnowing house, the manor house, the kitchen, and the school house. All are reminders of a self-sustaining community of a time long gone.
The enslaved persons brought beliefs and superstitions with them to the New World. These beliefs have been associated with the Gullah people of the Low Country ever since. The Gullah are a unique African American cultural group that live mostly in the Low Country of South Carolina and are descended from enslaved people. They are known for their legacy, language, and traditions, especially in the belief of the other world. Their belief in ghosts and spirits known as haints, boo hags and plat-eye are believed in to this day.
A boo hag is a female spirit that steals the breath of people while they are asleep. She is known to remove her skin to allow flying through the air. The idea of the boo hag has its origins from West African lore. The plat-eye, on the other hand, is the shape shifting spirit of someone that has been wronged in life. It is fantastical monster or ghost with origins from the West Indies. It is believed to be a phantasm bound to be a defender of a specific location. A haint is a malevolent, supernatural being that is prevalent in the U.S. South with a direct Gullah influence.
There are a few ways to ward off the haints, boo hags, and plat-eye. Painting parts of a house with haint blue can deter spirits from entering the residence. Haint blue was originally a color of blue that was derived from the indigo plant. It is a royal blueish color that can be painted on steps, window frames, and the ceilings of porches. Haint blue is similar to the color of water. Haints and boo hags cannot cross over water and thus, if they see haint blue painted on a house, they cannot enter or cross over to the inside.
Another method to keep a boo hag away is to hang a strainer on the door knob. The idea is that the boo hag will stop to count the holes and lose count and start all over until the sun comes up at dawn. Bottle trees can also be used for capturing evil spirits. The bottles are usually cobalt blue and are placed by the neck of the bottle on tree limbs. Cobalt blue is the color of the crossroads between life and death. The evil haints and boo hags become intrigued with the blue bottles and fly into them, becoming trapped. Not being able to escape, the spirits are destroyed when the sun rises the following morning.
The practice of “working roots” by root doctors is also a belief handed down from enslaved persons to the current Gullah people of the Low Country. Roots can be used for medicinal purposes, love, vengeance, help with the law and legal issues, and to ward off evil.
As we continued to drive around, Jim reaffirmed his belief in the practice of working roots, root doctors, boo hags, and plat-eyes. Jim said he has experiences that cannot be explained by any other means than the superstitions that have been passed down for generations by the Gullah people. After the tour of Mansfield Plantation, Jim and I stopped at my pick-up truck. The sun was setting over a cold, wintry landscape. I told Jim I had a gift for him, and pulled a bottle of Blade and Bow bourbon from my travel bag.
He lit up and was overjoyed for such a gift. He said we had to break the seal on this treat before he went home.
Jim had mentioned he was going to put me up for the night in a cabin on the premises. We retired to the room reserved for me for the night. The “cabin” was actually the North Guesthouse. The guesthouse was built in 1930. There are two bedrooms on the ground floor in the front of the house and two bedrooms in the rear of the building that can reached by walking up an ironwork staircase. My room was in the back right upstairs and far exceeded all expectations in style and comfort. It was absolutely breathtaking.
Jim scrounged up two water glasses and immediately broke the seal on the bourbon. He poured two fingers of the elixir into the glasses. I sat on the bed and Jim sat in a wingback chair. He was holding the bottle in one hand and placed his drink on the table beside his chair. Jim said it was customary in the Low Country to honor the departed with the first drink. A toast, if
you will, for the recently deceased. Jim said, “this is for Roger Pinckney,” and he then poured two glugs from the bottle on the authentic oriental carpet. Jim and I toasted Roger, and clinked our glasses. We sipped our drinks and allowed the slow burn of the liquor to slide down our throats. We discussed Roger and how he brought us together, the history of the plantation, our shared North Carolina roots, and the possibility of future duck hunts. Our drinks were finished way too soon. Jim got up to leave and said he would call me between 7:30 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. I promised I would buy breakfast in the morning.
Jim told me to have a good evening and to be especially careful and vigilant against the boo hag and plat-eye. I said I thought I would be okay. Jim reiterated he was a firm believer in boo hag, the root, and root doctors. I nodded and agreed. We shoot hands and Jim left. I already had my gear inside for the night. I was looking forward to a shot shower and settling in for a relaxing evening.
I took a hot, steamy, and reinvigorating shower and then I got into my sleep pants and an old flannel shirt. I stepped down the narrow stairs and locked the upstairs door that led to the ironwork stairs. I returned to my room and locked the bedroom door. Fully refreshed, I was going to call home, watch television, and read hunting magazines. As I approached the bed, I heard the door across the hall loudly slam. My first thought was the other guest must be checking in really late. And then with a start, I realized I was the only person staying on the 1000 plus acres for the night. At this point I wished the room was painted haint blue or maybe there should be a bottle tree in the yard. Was that a restless soul searching for the afterworld? Could it be an old boo hag letting me know I was only a guest on their property? Luckily, I was very tired from a long weekend of hunting and fellowship. After my telephone calls, I was becoming drowsier by the minute while I read the latest articles in the most current magazines on deer and duck hunting, and quickly fell asleep.
All too soon the alarm on my cell phone chimed at 7:00 a.m.
I awoke no worse for wear after the door slamming of the night before. I took another shower and reloaded my gear in my truck. I left the doors unlocked when I walked back upstairs and eagerly waited for Jim to call. As I sat on the bed and watched television, the main door slammed with a thunderous slam, as if someone was leaving the guest house.
Jim called me and we met at the entrance of Mansfield. I hopped in his pick-up truck and we drove into Georgetown for a delicious country breakfast. As we headed to town, I told him what happened last night and this morning with the doors. He said, “Good Lord, I wish you hadn’t told me that!” He proceeded to tell me the toilet was taken out of the room across the hall over two weeks ago and had not been replaced. A week ago, one of the caretakers, Frankie, had been working in the room I spent the night in. As he was working, Frankie heard the toilet flush in the room across the hall. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I heard this.
Jim continued by saying Frankie had another phantasm experience in another building on the plantation, the antebellum kitchen, which dates back to at least 1843. Over the years the kitchen has undergone renovations. At one point the upstairs was converted into living quarters for servants and a basement was added for additional storage. It eventually housed three bedrooms, two first floor rooms that are accessible from the front door, and the third room located upstairs that can be reached by the steps on the back side of the building. One day Frankie was working in the basement of the historical kitchen. Frankie left his cell phone upstairs while he was in the basement because there was no cellular service in the basement. He was smoking a cigarette while he worked. Frankie heard the cell phone ring, so he went upstairs to answer the call, leaving his cigarette in the ashtray. Frankie finished his call and went back into the basement, only to find his cigarette smoked to the filter. Frankie lit a second smoke and went back to work and his phone rang again. Frankie put the cigarette in the ashtray and went back upstairs to answer the call. He finished the call and went back in the basement only to find this cigarette stubbed out in the ashtray. This time the cigarette filter was soaking wet as if someone with wet fingers stamped out the cigarette in the ashtray.
The last occurrence happened to Jim just prior to the 2025 South Carolina Turkey Season. He arrived at Mansfield before sun up at 4:30 a.m. Jim was attempting to find where birds may be roosting near the entrance gate of the plantation. As he was making his way into the woods, he saw a brilliant light in the trees Jim’s first thought was turkey poachers were looking for birds too. The light was stationary, and did not appear to move, however the beam of the light followed Jim and was constantly in his face. Jim decided to leave and file a trespassing complaint with the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources (DNR). A couple of mornings later a DNR investigator met Jim. No sooner had they gotten out of the truck then they immediately saw the light. he same thing happened as the first morning. The light followed their every step, always in their face. Jim said it was brighter than a Q beam worklight.
They were able to rule out reflections from the road, or luminescent swamp gas. As pre-dawn gave way to the morning’s sunrise, the light just grew fainter and fainter.
Later on in the day, Jim reached out to the owner of the plantation and told his story. The owner of the plantation told Jim the same thing happened to him 20 years before. He described the same type of light that followed his every move, yet was stationary in the woods. This was the first time the owner of the plantation told his story to Jim.
Jim theorized there was an unmarked grave yard in the origin area of the light. He inspected the area a few days later and found depressions in the ground associated with sunken graves. There are plans to erect a monument to the people who were buried in this location over 200 hundred years ago.
It makes me wonder what kind of restless soul still wanders the property of Mansfield Plantation. Will the specter or specters ever find peace? I hope so. What keeps their spirit restless all these centuries later? I do not know. What I know for sure is I really want to go back and visit Jim at Mansfield, have a splash of Blade and Bow with Jim and attempt to discover the who’s, what’s, and why’s that are trapped between the living and dead. F&W
By Doug Pelton
As an avid traveling hunter with years of experience in some of the world’s toughest environments, I’ve learned that selecting the right rifle for an African safari isn’t just a matter of picking the most powerful or the most accurate. It’s about trust—the kind that’s earned only after years of consistent, reliable performance. For this particular safari, I chose the Jarrett Ridge Walker in .300 Jarrett, and after spending time in the harsh African terrain, I can confidently say it’s a rifle that delivers on every front!
The Jarrett Ridge Walker is a custom rifle designed with both precision and performance in mind. It features a Remington 700-type push feed action, known for its smooth operation and dependability, accuracy and is paired with a Swarovski Z-5 3.5-18x50 scope—a top-tier optic that delivers exceptional clarity at a variety of ranges. This scope proved to be the perfect complement to the rifle during my time on safari, as it allowed for quick target acquisition in both low-light conditions and during the more intense midday hunts.
Before setting foot on African soil, I spent some time on my home range test firing the Ridge Walker, and the results were nothing short of impressive. The rifle consistently produced “one ragged hole”, three-shot groups at 200 yards—a sign that it was more than capable of precision work when called upon.
But what stood out the most in my initial range test was the rifle’s recoil management. The .300 Jarrett chambering packs a punch, but thanks to the impeccably well-designed stock along with the Jarrett muzzle brake, I found the recoil to be easily manageable. While the brake did make a fair bit of noise (which my ears certainly didn’t love), it helped keep the rifle on target,even after rapid shots. The true test, however, would come in Africa, where the stakes were much higher.
I should not have been surprised by my bench testing, this Jarrett rifle came to me with a ½ M.O.A. guarantee and it lived up to that promise. What goes into a rifle to making such an incredibly high precision hunting rifle?
At Jarrett, that all starts with their custom designed Tri-lock receiver. The Tri-Lock receiver is machined from a single billet of steel by their experienced technicians to tolerances above what one typically finds in our industry, using advanced CN and EDM equipment. The result is an ultra-dependable action made for any outdoor condition the hunter and rifle may endure.
Jarrett barrels are machined in house to a tolerance of 1/10th of 1/1000th of an inch standard deviation from breech to muzzle. This is much tighter and harder to achieve than the industry standard of 3/10ths of 1/1000th. As they say down in Jackson, South Carolina, “Shoot your shot!”
Lastly, their proprietary stock program allows them to control stock strength, weight and design. Providing balance, smooth handling, and durability. The phenolic metal coatings protect and lessen reflection, provide texture for betting handling in tough conditions.
Your Jarrett is available wide array of stock materials including fiberglass, carbon fiber, and Crown AAA wood in ADL, BDL and carbon fiber versions.
When it comes to hunting rifles, especially on a safari, ergonomics are key. A rifle that feels like an extension of your body can make all the difference when you’re in the field. The Jarrett Ridge Walker impressed me with its balance and comfort from the moment I picked it up. Its lightweight design made it easy to carry through the African bush, and it was a joy to maneuver through the rugged terrain, whether we were stalking wildebeest across the plains or climbing the rocky hills to pursue klipspringer.
What truly stood out was the custom stock. Not only was it designed for an optimal fit, but the custom paint job also provided an unexpected bonus: a textured finish that allowed me to keep a firm grip, even with sweaty hands after long, arduous stalks. This was a thoughtful touch, and something I hadn’t expected to appreciate as much as I did.
Whether in the dense brush or on the open plains, the Ridge Walker never once felt like it was hindering my movements. The balance and feel of the rifle gave me confidence at every step. And when it came time to take the shot, I knew I was holding something special—an instrument built for both accuracy and resilience. Safari Success: One Shot, One Kill, every time, Throughout my safari, the Jarrett Ridge Walker proved itself a reliable companion, capable of handling everything from small, quick-moving game to larger, more challenging animals. My hunts included blue wildebeest, golden wildebeest, impala, springbok, blesbok, and klipspringer, each requiring a specific approach and shot placement. The Ridge Walker didn’t disappoint.
On my very first, I was able to take a blue wildebeest with a single shot. Wildebeest are known for their toughness and stamina, often requiring follow-up shots. After all, they did not earn the nick name “Poor Man’s Buffalo” for nothing. But thanks to the performance of the .300 Jarrett cartridge, loaded with 185-grain Berger VLD ammunition, I didn’t need a second shot. The shot was clean and humane, and the rifle’s ability to deliver consistent, powerful shots—even on tough game—was one of the highlights of the entire trip.
Next up was a golden wildebeest—another tough animal that put the Ridge Walker to the test. Again, the rifle delivered, showing its versatility and capability. It was moments like this that made me realize how well this rifle could handle both big and small game with equal efficacy. The 185-grain Berger VLD bullets proved to be an ideal match, offering excellent penetration and expansion, even on larger animals. After this, I had no doubts about the rifle’s performance.
One of the standout features of the Jarrett Ridge Walker is its commitment to custom ammunition. Jarrett rifles come pre-loaded with rounds designed specifically for each individual rifle. For my Ridge Walker, the custom loaded 185-grain Berger VLD ammunition was a perfect match, and this level of customization is something that sets Jarrett apart from other manufacturers.
In addition to custom ammunition, Jarrett also ensures that each rifle is paired with ammunition data. When you need more custom loads down the road, you don’t have to go searching for the right fit. A simple phone call to Jarrett’s gunsmiths will have you covered, ensuring that your rifle always performs at its peak. This level of service and attention to detail is something I truly appreciate.
I also used Jarrett’s leather sling and an Els Fine Leather cartridge carrier during the hunt. The sling provided added comfort and support, especially during long hikes, while the cartridge carrier allowed for quick and efficient reloading, making me feel prepared at all times.
The safari, hosted by Bos en Dal Safaris in South Africa’s North-West Province, presented a diverse range of challenges, from flat, open plains to rocky hills and thick, dense bush. We were hunting Cape buffalo with my Krieghoff Big 5 Classic 500 Nitro Express, but the Jarrett Ridge Walker took on all the plains game duties.
The landscape varied from easy walking to steep and rocky terrain to dense bush, and the ruggedness of the environment really tested the rifle’s ability to handle different situations. We even hunted klipspringer in the mountains, a task that required both long range precision and agility. The Ridge Walker performed flawlessly on every occasion, proving its worth in some of the most difficult conditions imaginable.
One of the most impressive aspects of the Jarrett Ridge Walker is the level of craftsmanship that goes into every rifle. Made in America, specifically in Jackson, South Carolina, Jarrett rifles are known for their superior build quality and attention to detail. This legacy of craftsmanship dates back decades, and Kenny Jarrett’s reputation for top-tier work continues to shine through in every rifle that leaves the shop. Unlike many mass-produced rifles, Jarrett rifles are not only crafted to fit their owners, but they are also designed to perform under the most extreme conditions. Whether you’re hunting in the sweltering heat of Africa or the frigid temperatures of Alaska, the Jarrett Ridge Walker is a rifle that can do it all—and do it exceptionally well.
The Jarrett Ridge Walker isn’t just another rifle—it’s an investment in a tool that will accompany you on the most challenging hunts, from African safaris to Alaska’s vast wilderness to the swamps of Georgia and everywhere in between. Its accuracy, fit, and finish are everything you’d expect from a custom rifle, and the rifle’s ability to perform consistently under pressure is something that every serious hunter will appreciate.
If you’re in the market for a high-performance, versatile hunting rifle that combines American-made craftsmanship with unparalleled reliability, the Jarrett Ridge Walker is a rifle I can wholeheartedly recommend. Whether you’re tracking plains game across Africa or chasing moose in the Alaskan wilderness, this rifle will not only meet but exceed your expectations. F&W
“The Jarrett Ridge Walker isn’t just another rifle- it’s an investment”
- Doug Pelton
Manufacturer: Jarrett Rifles
jarrettrifles.com
Model: Ridge Walker
Caliber: .300 Jarrett
Action: Jarrett Tri-Lock Push feed. Machined in house from a single billet
Barrel: Machined in house. 24” coated with KG Gun Coat
Stock: Custom Carbon Fiber and Custom finished in Jarrett’s Kenoflage pattern
Recoil Pad: Pachmayr
Optic: Swarovski Z5 3.5-18x50
Scope Rings & Bases: Talley Manufacturing
Sling: Jarrett, leather
By Chris Douglas
There’s something about a frosty Carolina morning that makes a deer hunter’s heart quicken. For years, our team at Carolina All Out has logged long sits, watched countless ridge lines, and passed on plenty of good bucks—all in pursuit of not just a shot, but the right shot. That moment where the hunter’s heart, the land, and the animal meet in harmony.
This season was no different. We were deep in the hardwoods, tucked close to bedding areas with a favorable wind and a hunch. Trail cams had shown promise, especially one young 12-point we nicknamed simply: The 12.
The sun began its descent when movement in the thicket caught our eye. It was him. Cross hairs were steady. The shot was there. But something deeper pulled at me. I’d seen this buck grow. Knew he was just three. He had potential—real potential. And even though the hunter in me ached, I let him walk. Days later, the weather finally
shifted. We returned to a stand on family land, nearly a century old. Leaves fell. The wind was right. And a bigbodied buck appeared—scarred, heavy, and mature. This was The Broken Ten.
The .270 barked. He dropped just past the treeline.
One brow tine gone. G3 snapped clean. A fighter’s rack, earned through years in the woods. It wasn’t just a harvest—it was a culmination.
I’ve hunted across North America, but nothing compares to North Carolina—the land where I first hunted, and where my best memories still unfold. This is more than tradition. It’s a way of life. F&W
Where Southern Spirit Meets the World’s Wild Places!
The map doesn’t end at the Mason-Dixon. Global Adventure follows the Southern men and women who seek life and meaning beyond the borders of the Southland — those drawn to distant horizons and wilder lands. From African plains to Arctic seas, this section explores the far corners of the world where the spirit of Feathers & Whiskey meets adventure, culture, and story on a global stage.
A SOUTH CAROLINA HUNTER MAKES THE TRIP TO HIS FAVORITE PLACE TO HUNT MULE DEER COLORADO AND FINDS LUCK IN MIDDAY
By Stan Courtnay
Back in late September of 2023 I was lucky enough to snag a third season returned mule deer tag. This unit was a place I had never been before, but I had looked at it previously while researching Colorado and it had piqued my interest. It’s not a high point unit but it had some qualities that I thought would make it a good fit for a quality mule deer hunt, and I was really excited when I was able to get the tag.
I really love mule deer hunting. I think it’s because I grew up chasing Whitetail in South Carolina and still do to this day every chance I get. There’s something special about big mule deer. Everyone is unique and seeing a big mature muley gets me as excited as any animal that I’ve ever chased.
I left South Carolina at 3:15 AM on Wednesday morning. I spent the night at a rest area somewhere in Texas and finished the drive up on Thursday arriving to my unit around 1 PM. I took an hour and a half or so to organize all my things and make sure I had everything prepared to hike in. The first area I wanted to hunt was an area that checked all the boxes for a good mule deer area. My plan was to hike in 2 1/2 miles and camp on a ridge Thursday night followed by a bunch of scouting on Friday before the season opened on Saturday. My goal was to give that area three days or so and if it was not what I was hoping it would be I would hike back to the truck and head over to the second area that I’d picked out.
I got my tent set up just before dark and settled in for a chilly nights sleep at around 8000’ in elevation. I was up with the sun and made the short hike up to a glassing point that I had found on the hike in. That morning was a bit disappointing. I did not see a deer anywhere. But there was a lot of sign and a lot of tracks and the sign doesn’t lie, so I spent that day hiking all over the ridge and adjoining ridges looking for glassing areas and good spots to hunt opening morning. The last two hours of daylight I was back on the same glassing point except this time I saw four deer. 3 does and a single deer right at dark that I felt was probably a buck, but I did not have a chance to get my spotting scope on him before he disappeared into the thick cover. The area I was hunting was pine mixed with scrub oak anywhere from 3 to 7 feet tall. The deer would just appear and then just as quickly disappear. There were some open grassy areas that would allow you to spot a deer, but just as quickly they would evaporate into the brush.
After glassing the deer that night, I decided my best option for opening morning was to hike about 20 minutes and 200 feet of elevation to an adjoining ridge where I could see down into the areas where I had glassed the deer. Hopefully I would be able to shoot the whole bottom of the valley, if I was able to find a good buck. I was up with the sun and getting everything to go. I threw a couple granola bars in my pack and figured that would hold me over until the night. I decided I was going to stay out all day glassing in hopes of catching a buck cruising. I used to take breaks in the middle of the day
on my hunting trips, but I do that a lot less now. I try to stay out all day glassing because you never know when one will pop out. This philosophy paid dividends on this hunt.
The sun came up and with it no deer. I glassed and glassed and did not see a darn thing. Finally around 9:30am I saw a couple of does about 600 yards below me slowly meandering through the valley. I kept an eye on them hoping a buck would appear, but none did. About 40 minutes later, I heard what sounded like a large animal coming off the ridge going down towards the valley bottom. I stood up and looked around frantically, but I did not see anything. Two minutes later, I saw a big deer standing about 300 yards below me in the bottom. I immediately knew it was a big buck. I looked at him with my binoculars to confirm and yes, absolutely, it was a shooter. I tried to get the gun on him, but with the brush and him moving I just could not make it happen. He would just disappear in the scrub oak, and then reappear for half a second then be gone again. He never presented me with a good shot opportunity. While I made the right decision by not forcing a shot it was still a bit of a letdown to see this buck dissolve into the cover. Nothing else happened until about 11:45. Three does appeared below me and began to work their way up the bottom in the same general direction I had seen the buck previously. They disappeared and about 15 minutes later a 3x3 bucks appeared where I had seen the two does 2.5 hours earlier. He was standing there sniffing around, but he wasn’t a buck I wanted to shoot, so I just watched him until he disappeared. I continue to glass and at 12:54 I looked
below me and saw a large deer walking across one of the openings in the valley. I threw up my binoculars and sure enough it was a big buck. It looked very similar to the buck I saw earlier. He had tall tines and a mature buck body. If it was the same buck he had done a huge loop in the almost three hours since I had seen him. I quickly RANGED him at 430 yards. I put the gun on my pack sitting up (shooting prone wasn’t an option) and waited for him to stop. The buck gave me the briefest pause and I shot. I wasn’t going to let another good deer slip through my fingers. I heard the bullet hit and saw his right leg wobbling as he ran off. He made it about 30 yards before tumbling into some thick oaks. I was really excited. I
knew he was a good buck. I made my way down to the area and it took me almost an hour to find him because of the thick brush in the valley floor. When I did find him, I was not disappointed. A super unique mature buck with 15” G2’s. He
was a 3x4 with eye guards. The long G2 on his right side was like dagger pointing straight up. My shot had been perfect. I broke him down and I decided I was going to pack all of him out along with the skull and my gear that I had with me. That would leave only my camp left to get the next day. It was a really heavy pack but 3 hours later I got it done and as a gift to myself I got to sleep in my mini camper in a nice soft warm bed. I went back in the next day to get the rest of my camp which was only about 25 pounds or so.
It was an awesome hunt and he’s an awesome deer. Colorado is my absolute favorite place to hunt mule deer and I hope I get to do it many many more times. F&W
By Robbie Perdue
November 10, 1975. Lake Superior was a beast that evening, its waves towering, winds howling, and the darkness unbroken. The Edmund Fitzgerald, a leviathan of the Great Lakes, cut through the churning waters like a giant ship of legend, carrying 26,000 tons of iron ore. On board were 29 men—husbands, sons, and brothers—each with dreams of returning home safely, yet none aware that this voyage would be their last.
Captain Ernest McSorley, seasoned and calm, guided the ship with decades of experience. Even as the storm battered the Fitzgerald, he reported to the nearby Arthur M. Anderson, “We are holding our own.” But the lake had other plans. Waves rose thirty, forty feet high, and wind gusts tore at the ship’s hull, testing every rivet and beam
The Edmund Fitzgerald had been the pride of the Great Lakes—a massive freighter built in 1958, the largest of its kind at the time. But pride alone could not withstand the fury of Lake Superior that night. By the time the radio fell silent, the ship had disappeared beneath the icy waters, leaving no survivors and only the echo of 29 voices lost to history.
Theories abound even today. Did a rogue wave slam into the ship’s side? Did shifting cargo or a hidden shoal compromise the hull? Some say it was a perfect storm of nature and circumstance, a reminder that the lakes are as merciless as the oceans.
Yet, in the 50 years since that night, the story of the Edmund Fitzgerald has become legend. Gordon Lightfoot’s haunting ballad captures the sorrow and awe of the event, preserving the memory of the men who braved the lake. The wreck now rests 530 feet beneath the surface, a silent tomb that reminds all who sail or fish these waters of the lake’s enduring power.
On this anniversary, we honor the crew of the Edmund Fitzgerald, remembering their courage, their skill, and their humanity. In the face of nature’s rawest fury, they faced the giant of Lake Superior with determination. And though the lake claimed them, their story lives on—a caution, a tribute, and a piece of American maritime history.
For those who hunt, fish, and explore the wilds of the North American landscape, the tale of the Edmund Fitzgerald is more than a shipwreck—it is a reminder that respect for nature’s power is paramount and that even the mightiest can be humbled.
“There’s something about a train that’s more than just transit. It’s the hum of the rails, the rhythm of the land, and the stories that unfold between stations.”
Bryson City, North Carolina
Half-Day to a Full-Day
Winding through Southern Appalachia, this scenic ride offers tunnels of gold and amber, river views, and a nostalgic open-air gondola. Book the Moonshine Experience or ride in the open air with a blanket and thermos. Fall in the South never looked so cinematic.
Peso da Régua to Tua, Portugal
3.5 Hours
Steam-powered and vineyard-bound, this train glides through Portugal’s famed Douro Valley. With golden vines, port wine tastings, and terraced hillsides, it’s a moving toast to the harvest season.
Chicago to Seattle
46 Hours Each Way
From Midwestern harvest fields to Montana’s snowy peaks, this cross-country epic moves through changing geography and time zones. Glacier National Park in autumn is worth the ticket alone. Long-form travel for the poetic at heart.
Zermatt to St. Moritz, Switzerland
8 Hours
Crossing 291 bridges and 91 tunnels, the Glacier Express is all slow grandeur. Panoramic views, snow-dusted peaks, and five-star service make this Alpine journey unforgettable in fall. Book Excellence Class for a full gourmet experience.
Fort William to Mallaig, Scotland
2 Hours Each Way
Made famous by Harry Potter, this Highland journey is a misty dream of sea lochs, glens, and ancient rail viaducts. Fall brings fiery bracken and a whisper of folklore. Bring a flask and a good coat.
• Pack a thermos
• Dress in layers
• Journal between stops
• Bring analog: cards/books
• Ask for the best window seat
A cocktail feels at home when the deck is beneath your feet
By Cameron Kirby
There is an innate instinct to drink on a boat. The shifting seas waltz with the spirits in your glass, dancing from afar but entranced by the same music –like a stranger across the way whose eyes meet your own and hold them in a moment of curiosity. The salt in the air pulls at your fluids, as does the wind and the sun – the great triune of dehydration. I need something with electrolytes, I thought, as I floated 20 miles offshore, West of the Florida Keys, in the hunt for a great fish.
In a similar location separated by time and fiction, Thomas Hudson - the protagonist of Ernest Hemingway’s oftenoverlooked novel Islands in the Stream has a solution to this dilemma – a cocktail that fuels your inebriation, rehydrates your being (to the best of its ability), and tastes vaguely of the sea. He writes: “Where Thomas Hudson lay on the mattress his head was in the shade cast by the platform at the forward end of the flying bridge where the controls were and when Eddy came aft with the tall cold drink made of gin, lime juice, green coconut water and chipped ice with just enough Angostura bitters to give it a rusty, rose color, he held the
Sometime later, the prodigious drinker christened his seaworthy creation, The Green Isaac’s Special, named after a small group of Bahamian Islands Northeast of Bimini –where he often spent time sport fishing aboard his boat, the Pilar in the hunt for Marlin, sailfish, and swordfish.
As the dual motors hummed their reliable tune, I drained my last canister of coconut water. I had recently been drinking it as a rudimentary and natural alternative to the sugarinfused commercial competitors – flashing a warning to would-be consumers in red, blue, and yellow. The potassium, magnesium, manganese, calcium, sugar, and just enough sodium seemed to aid my recovery after the gym or long evenings of courageous bar expeditions… However, I hadn’t mixed it with anything respectable. After reading Islands in the Stream, I knew I had to try the Green Isaac’s Special. It sounded like the perfect boat drink.
Ingredients
• 2 ounces London dry gin
• 4 ounces of unsweetend cocunut water
• 1 ounce lime juisce freshly squeezed
• 3 dashes of Angostura bitters
• Add the gine, cocunut water, lime juice and bitters into shaker with ice and shake until well-chilled.
• Pour, unstrained, into a highball glass.
• Garnish with lime wedge.
I wanted to love it; after all, it’s a Hemingway creation, with a nod to sport fishing and gin… but it wasn’t for me or my palette; it was a bit flat and medicinal. Yet, I couldn’t get the notion of a coconut water-based cocktail out of my head. There had to be a spirit that complemented its delicate saccharine flavor.
Mezcal – the smokey, brash brother to tequila may not seem like an intuitive pairing, but like many grand relationships – opposites attract and complement each other in a fulfilling way. The mezcal is stretched and thinned, and the coconut water takes on a fuller body, allowing its verdant earthiness to surface. Some dubious research indicates mezcal may be metabolized differently than other intoxicants– in such a way that it’s not as harmful to your celebration organ – the liver; it may even have prebiotic benefits from the agave. Another positive trait is that it’s generally made in small batches by familyowned Mexican farms that omit the various chemical additives often found in larger distilleries. Some doctors even say if you’re going to drink alcohol, mezcal is the least
least harmful. Though, as they say “ignorance is bliss,” and a deep dive into its validity isn’t high on my check list. Mezcal and coconut water worked, and it worked well, but the concoction needed more complexity. While making Mezcal Old Fashions, I often substitute simple syrup with agave nectar – a sibling dynamic in a glass. I was almost there; the added sweetness was subdued and “adult.” However, as a proper boat drink intended for the tropics, it needed the punch of fruit, and what better fruit than the mango? The world’s favorite seed-baring golden child. A splash of mango nectar completed the flavor profile. The cocktail was good, and I wanted something more from it than a simply concocting it for guests during summertime BBQs or pouring a glass while on the boat. I performed a cursory review and found that Bartender Magazine offered a convenient service on their website called “Cocktail Right,” where one could submit new recipes for consideration. Once submitted, my creation was reviewed and verified as an original. With that, I was shipped a gold foiled certificate that is currently hanging over my bar. A creation of my own, printed, gilded, and wrapped in walnut and glass.
I’m unsure if Thomas Hudson or his creator – Ernest Hemingway, would enjoy the Flying Bridge. Still, I hope they would appreciate the homage to their fishing endeavors of the past and raise a paper towel-wrapped glass to the pelagic adventures of tomorrow. F&W
• 1.5 ounces Mezcal
• 3 ounces of coconut water
• 0.5 ounce mango nectar
• Drizzle of agave nectar
• Add the mezcal, coconut water mango nectar, and agave nectar into a shaker with ice and shake until well-chilled.
• On land: pour, strained, into a coupe glass.
• At sea: pour everything into a red solor cup and stir with whatever is at hand!
“A good day fishing ends with a story—and a strong drink to tell it with.”
Beaufort, South Carolina
October 23-26,2025
The 2025 Pat Conroy Literary Festival will commemorate Pat Conroy’s 80 birthday and the 10th anniversary of the festival with a weekend of immersive literary events in Conroy’s beloved Beaufort. Save the dates and make plans to join us for author conversations, readings and signings, writers workshops, exhibits and tours, performances, and celebratory gatherings in multiple lowcountry venues. patconroyliterarycenter.org
Mitchell County, North Carolina
OCTOBER CHECK WEBSITE FOR DATES
Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina
September 26-October 26, 20205
Since 1997, the Boone Hall Pumpkin Patch has grown into one of South Carolina’s largest and most beloved fall festivals. Now entering its 29th year in 2025, this autumn tradition continues to bring together families and friends of all ages for a full day of classic, down-home fun on the farm! boonehallplantation.com
Celebrate mountain culture, community, and Halloween fun at Hilloween in Mitchell County, NC. This multi-day festival supports local youth and welcomes everyone—locals and “from off” alike. Highlights include music, seasonal events, and more. This year, Hilloween proudly welcomes Old Crow Medicine Show to help raise funds for hurricane recovery and rebuilding efforts. hilloweennc.org
Every Leaf and Paw Holds a Story
The American Persimmon is a true Southern treasure. This small to medium deciduous tree produces sweet, orange fruit in the late fall, delighting wildlife and humans alike. Its hardy nature and adaptability have made it a staple in forests, fields, and backyards across the Eastern and Southeastern United States
American Persimmons thrive in forests, open fields, and even rocky or clay-rich soil. They prefer full sun but tolerate partial shade. NATIVE RANGE: Eastern and Southeastern United States.
• Height: 15–60 ft, rounded canopy
• Leaves: Glossy green in summer; yellow/orange in fall
• Bark: Gray-brown, scaly and blocky on older trees
• Fruit: 1–2 in. round, orange when ripe, custard-like texture, sweetest after frost
Wildlife Value
Deer, wild turkeys, raccoons, squirrels, and songbirds all flock to fallen fruit. Tracks and activity often lead you to a nearby tree. Early settlers and modern foragers enjoy persimmons in pies, preserves, and fresh off the branch.
Look for bare trees in November dotted with orange fruit. A sweet aroma often lingers in the air before you even spot the fruit.
Persimmon seeds have long been used to “predict” winter:
• Straight = mild winter
• Twisted = harsh winter
A red fly, a stranger in the woods, and a choice between damnation and deliverance.
By Michael Maynor
They say the water runs clear in the holler behind Black Hollow Church, just past where the kudzu chokes the fence line and the pines whisper secrets you don’t want to hear. Folks used to go fishin’ there, but now most steer clear—on account of what happened to Eli Granger.
Eli wasn’t the churchgoin’ type, but he wasn’t no outlaw either. Just a man with a busted heart and a head full of grief. His wife, Marla, passed the summer before, and with no children and no kin, Eli took to wandering the creeks and hollows with a fly rod in hand and silence for company.
It was a dusky Friday in late September when Eli waded into the cool shallows of Hell Bender Creek—named, folks said, for the giant salamanders that once haunted its rocky beds and the way the water slithered through the hills like something alive. The air smelled of damp leaves and something older. He cast a black gnat fly just beneath a sycamore root where trout liked to hide from the sun.
That’s when he heard it—a voice like bourbon and smoke, smooth but with something sharp beneath.
“You’re droppin’ your wrist on the cast,” it said.
Eli turned. There was a man standing upstream. Tall. Dressed like a gentleman from another era—charcoal waistcoat, crimson pocket square, and a cane carved from what looked like horn. He held a fly rod made from some wood Eli didn’t recognize, and a reel that shimmered like it was made of firelight. His smile was too white, too wide.
“I’ll be damned,” Eli muttered.
The man chuckled. “Already are, son. But that’s beside the point. Mind if I join you?”
Now, logic would say turn tail and run, but grief dulls a man’s instinct, and Eli had long since stopped fearing anything that came in human shape. He just nodded. “It’s a free creek.”
The stranger stepped into the water without a ripple and tied on a fly the color of dried blood. “They don’t rise to it like they used to,” he said. “Used to be I could cast and pull up three sins and a lie with every catch.”
Eli chuckled despite himself. “You a preacher or somethin’?”
The man’s eyes flickered gold. “Lord, no. Just someone who appreciates a little sport now and then. Even evil gets weary. This is my Sabbath.”
They fished side by side for near two hours, neither saying much. The devil—Eli had no doubt now who he was—was polite. Offered him jerky that smelled like hickory and ash. Even complimented Eli’s old battered rod.
“Funny thing,” the devil said finally, “how fish and men are alike. Flash a little temptation, make it dance just right, and they’ll sell their soul to taste it.”
Eli didn’t look over. “Is that what you came for?”
The devil smiled, reeling in a fat brookie. “No, son. Not today. You’ve already given away most of yours in pieces. Grief will do that.”
What do you want, then?”
“Just to fish.”
A silence passed between them as the creek babbled on. Finally, the devil stood, stretching his long limbs. “Well, I best be gettin’ back. Souls don’t tempt themselves. But I’ll leave you with this—”
He handed Eli a fly. It looked ordinary enough, but the hook gleamed a little too bright, and the thread shimmered like red silk spun by spiders.
“Use it when you’re desperate. It’ll catch whatever you seek. Just be sure you really want it.”
With that, he stepped out of the creek and vanished into the trees. No footprints. No scent. Just gone.
The devil’s fly, still sharp as sin, stayed tucked inside Eli’s fly box beside Marla’s faded photo. He kept it not out of temptation, but as a reminder—that even grief, even loneliness, couldn’t drown him. He returned to church with muddy boots and a heart ready for healing. In time, he laughed again, loved again, lived again. Yet each September, he’d walk the bank of that creek—casting not for trout, but for clarity. And when folks asked why, he’d say:
“It’s where I learned the devil ain’t the only one who shows up when you’re broken.” F&W
In the cold, dark streams of Appalachia, the Hellbender moves like a whisper—ancient, uncanny, and unseen. Known as the snot otter or devil dog, this strange salamander breathes through its wrinkled skin and vanishes beneath stone like a spirit. Its presence marks pure, oxygen-rich water, but pollution and habitat loss now threaten its survival. A relic of wild waters, the Hellbender reminds us: not every ghost wears chains—some wear gills.
Known as the little gem of African hunting, Zambia offers an extraordinary adventure. At Strang Middleton Safaris, we provide the safari of a lifetime with a focus on ethical hunting and unparalleled experiences While we primarily operate in Zambia, we can assist with safaris throughout Africa Discover the wild beauty of Zambia with us!
www middletonsafaris com
ssmid@bowhunterszambia net strangm76@gmail com
Kalomo Southern Zambia
Tel: +260 977 826 889
WhatsApp: +260977826889
Pluff Mud Mafia celebrates the Lowcountry—its stories, its land, and its people. Come get stuck with us!