October 2025

The plain fact is a grouse is a tougher wingshot than a pheasant. Especially in heavy cover, and especially hunting alone and without a dog. The reasons for this are several. A grouse tends to bust low and away, at speed, as if pitched side-arm by someone skipping a stone, and they tend to do it, in my limited experience, in dense timber where it's hard to get a clean line. Without a dog to draw you fully into the landscape, even the fugue-like, diffuse awareness that overtakes the chattering mind is not enough to forestall a certain amount of daydreaming in the artist. Add to this daydreaming an antique side-by-side hammer double .20 – a present from my friend Joe Hutto, the brilliant ethologist and writer – which has no safety, and requires that I bring both the hammer back and the gun to my shoulder in one smooth, considered motion (and here you may picture me practicing this motion in my long handles in February with a small flashlight taped between the barrels, leant heavily forward at the waist with my weight on my forward leg, raising the gun on a swiveling course to track the light down the seam where the wall and ceiling of my office meet). Often enough, by the time I recover from the shock of a grouse or two lighting from nearly underfoot and get the gun up with the hammer back, the grouse are gone, disappeared in the trees. I think I've swung on two or three grouse each season in the last three years, and have yet to fire the gun.

     A pheasant on the other hand tends to rise in the vertical plane for some moments before it gathers much way. In comparison to a grouse, the strange distillation of time that attends a flushing pheasant gives the appearance of something like a Macy's parade float, improbably giant, seeming to hang there a long time, perhaps at dawn, skylighted beside the skein of apple branches in a disused orchard. So I go after pheasant in the fall, in New England where they do not thrive, but are stocked by the state in what I like to think of as an elaborate coyote-feeding program. Most mornings afield I'll find three or four fresh kills, nothing but feathers distributed in a loose circle, as if the bird had exploded. I like to imagine how happy this makes the coyotes, a sort of early Christmas every fall. The birds that survive the season don't generally overwinter, so I'm content to walk them up, dogless and daydreaming, on dry, cool fall afternoons, with a handful of shells rattling in my jacket pocket. Later, I'll sit at the long heavy table in the yard as the hills bleed daylight, and pluck and draw the birds – a last, mucky intimacy that is a frank sign of respect and care – with small glass of Calvados or Bourbon at arm's length, keeping a few of the prettiest feathers for my desk. I brine the birds overnight and grill them indirectly, against a banked fire, rubbed in olive oil and dusted with a very little garlic and crushed fennel seed. You may wonder what any of this has to do with my tour schedule, and the answer is: nothing.

NORTHWEST – Next week I'll start a tour of WA, OR, MT, and CA, at the venerable Tractor Tavern in Seattle, WA (10/22), and moving through The Belfry in the tiny mountain town of Sisters, OR (10/23), The Shedd in Eugene, OR (10/24) Rockford Grange Hall in Hood River, OR (10/25), Mississippi Studios in Portland, OR (10/26), and the New Prospect Theatre in Bellingham, WA (10/28). Sam Weber opens Seattle to Portland, and joins the band on electric guitar, and Hood River is a split bill with our pal Garett Brennan from the Red Barn.

MONTANA– From there we'll head east to play two nights in Montana, the first at Live from the Divide in Bozeman, MT (11/1) and then The Show Room at ZACC in Missoula, MT (11/2). My particular friend, the author, poet, bird hunter, bon vivant, and fishing guide Chris Dombrowski opens Missoula, reading his excellent poems, and I'll be backed by both Erik Koskinen and Eric Heywood, a double-aught load of Scorpio, which ought to be a lot of fun.

CALIFORNIA– From Montana I'll fly down to California to begin a tour from south to north and back down to the Bay, starting at The Venice West in Los Angeles, CA (11/4), and heading to play Tales from the Tavern in Santa Ynez, CA (11/5), Little Saint in Healdsburg, CA (11/6), The Arcata Playhouse in Arcata, CA (11/7), Heringer Estates in Clarksburg, CA (11/8), and the Ivy Roomin Albany, CA (11/9). Erik Koskinen handles electric guitar on this tour, and John Convertino re-joins the band on drums.

TIP TOP– Every time I go down to Healy Guitars in Easthampton, MA to have a guitar worked on by The Maestro, I swing by Tip Top Wine Shop to see what's on the shelf. It’s a great place, sensibly organized and smartly curated, and when I saw that they were starting to put on the occasional concert, I offered to play. I happen to like wine, and I also like small businesses that find a way to thrive and become a part of their community. In November Kris Delmhorst and I will play a one-mic acoustic show at the Tip Top, splitting up the tunes, His and Hers. Doors open at 8PM for a wine tasting and the show starts at 9. There’s limited space, so get after it.

MIDWEST– The first part of December we'll be on tour in upper Midwest on a special run of shows with the great Dave Moore, an all-time hero and long time friend. I'll start out alone at The Trempealeau Hotel just north of La Crosse, WI (12/3), and play the Oak Center General Store in Lake City, MN (12/5), before picking up the band and heading north to play the Cedar Lounge in Superior, WI (12/6), the Parkway Theater in Minneapolis, MN (12/7) and SPACE in Evanston, IL (12/8) and Atwood Music Hall in Madison, WI (12/12). Dave opens the tour and joins the band on harp and accordion, and in the middle of it, we'll all head down together to the Englert Theater in Iowa City, IA (12/11/25) for a show I organized, called MAGIC DUST:The Songs of Dave Moore, an all-star tribute featuring Dave with Greg Brown, Iris Dement, Bo Ramsey, Pieta Brown, Joe and Vicki Price, Kris Delmhorst, Erik Koskinen, David Huckfelt, Dustin Busch, David Zollo, Kevin Gordon, and Phil Heywood, playing and singing their favorite Dave Moore songs, backed up by Dave himself, with me and the band.

That covers 2025, and it feels like enough for now. Remember to go outside.