Author Archives: Jerry Johnson

About Jerry Johnson

Curmudgeon. Bird hunter and dog trainer; indifferent wing shot. Retired journalist and college public relations director. Novelist and short story writer. Freeholder: 50-acre farm with 130-year-old log house. Husband, father, grandfather. Retired teacher, coach, mentor. Vicious editor. Blogger.

Freezer space

My long time friend, we will call her “Kelly” (to safeguard her identity from family and friends), a former student of mine and a great murder mystery writer (to make her identity obvious to family and friends), called me last … Continue reading

Posted in Deer Hunting | Tagged | 2 Comments

Beyond words

Some joys are exquisite beyond description. Our daughter gave birth to a baby girl, Aurora Louise Johnson-Sojka, on September 13. Mother and baby are both doing well. The latest (and probably last) of our six grandchildren, Rory weighed 8 pounds, … Continue reading

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Squirrel dog

After a three-day rain Abbey and I went squirrel hunting. In truth, we went into the dripping, soggy woods to scout for deer trails, scraps, and rubs. Although I slung my .22 rifle over my shoulder I had no intention … Continue reading

Posted in Squirrel hunting | Tagged | 2 Comments


We need other people’s physical presence, in part because much of the assuring information we exchange is through non-verbal communication, and in part because we need physical contact – a handshake, a slap on the back, a hug. Isolation By … Continue reading

Posted in Isolation, Pandemic Isolation | Tagged , | 3 Comments

Made by hand

An enchanting history envelops each thing handmade, an aura that somehow connects us to the person who envisioned and crafted it. A pulse of the artisan’s life and energy is embodied in this handmade piece, and even though the artisan … Continue reading

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Trailcam scouting

The last week of August is too early. The corn and soybean fields of neighboring farms are not yet a wildlife cornucopia, lush with filled-out ears and pods packed with beans. No hard frost has yet arrived to kill the … Continue reading

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Stone deaf

Most of all I miss the birds singing in the early morning. Many other sounds are lost to me since my hearing faded and was gradually lost over the past 15 or 20 years: almost all music, the evening cries … Continue reading

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Hitting 300

Death steals everything except our stories.   — Jim Harrison, poet, novelist, screenplay, and short story writer, from his collection of poems titled In Search of Small Gods. Hitting 300 The number took me by surprise: three hundred. That is … Continue reading

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Catch-pen battleground

A bucolic scene: a dozen Suffolk lambs grazing the hillside beside their mother ewes, their gentle bleats and baas a sort of pastoral music, their leaps and head-butts so much exuberant frolicking on a rustic playground, their sleepy huddles in … Continue reading

Posted in Sheep catch-pen | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Best birthday present ever

Autumn of 1987. A stressful time of my life. Work issues. We have all been there. I was in desperate need of something to lift my spirits. Lunch hour, as I was walking to the weight training room on campus … Continue reading

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