Once, our longleaf pines produced the materials that helped ships travel around the globe — but the profits came at a price. Now, the forests that rang out with the sounds of industry stand quiet, and the last witnesses to that era are a rare find indeed.
It’s the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature is stirring — only Mom and Dad, assembling toys and steeling themselves for those famous last words: “Batteries not included.”
Times have changed since scions of the Gilded Age hunted quail in piney woods across the Piedmont. But those who hope to preserve a home for the little birds will always listen for a bobwhite’s whistle.
In North Carolina, like in life, there’s a path for every hiker: generous doubletracks for the ones who prefer company and narrow game trails for those who seek solitude.
As the seasons turn, migratory birds and restless humans have something in common: the urge to spread our wings in search of someplace new. Turns out, that feeling has a name.
There’s only one way to finish off a day of Fourth of July festivities: with crackles and booms, color and light. Sit back, hold your family close, and watch the show unfold.
For a longtime angler, revisiting the first fish of his youth has become a late-spring ritual: catch a bluegill, then cook and eat it — right on the spot.
After a long day in the wilderness, even the most rugged outdoor enthusiasts can’t resist the comfort and good company found in a trail shelter.
When the trees part and the trail slopes down to flowing waters, a hiker must decide: Try your luck and leap from rock to slippery rock — or take a deep breath and ford the stream?
