My father, the deer hunter, loved to travel. I still remember his advice. “Go to Venice, son.“
Careful how you slice up that wild game carcass: You don’t want to make a big moose steak!
If you hunt aquatic mammals in the arctic, your fate is sealed.
The hard-luck hunter preyed and preyed.
Life is like hunting. There are no easy antlers.
The man who loved hunting was charged with big gamey.
French hunters love grapefruit. It’s what lets them pump le moose.
Elite hunters can kill pigeons with a bow and arrow in pitch darkness. They do it by studying a coo sticks.