Sporting Classics Daily
Magazine
Sporting Classics is the magazine for discovering the best in hunting and fishing worldwide. Every page is carefully crafted, through word and picture, to transport you on an unforgettable journey into the great outdoors.
Travel to the best hunting and fishing destinations. Relive the finest outdoor stories from yesteryear. Discover classic firearms and fishing tackle by the most renowned craftsmen. Gain valuable knowledge from columns written by top experts in their fields: gundogs, shotguns, fly fishing, rifles, art and more.
From great fiction to modern-day adventures, every article is complemented by exciting photography and masterful paintings. This isn't just another "how to" outdoor magazine. Source
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| Scope | National |
|---|---|
| Language | English |
| Country | United States of America |
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| Frequency | Other |
Recent Articles
Search ArticlesDr. Peter Brookes - Sporting Classics Daily
Chasing Chesapeake Rail by | Aug 14, 2026 Looking for a different kind of bird hunt this fall? If so, a clapper rail hunt—an interesting hybrid of upland and waterfowl hunting—in the coastal waters of Virginia’s Chesapeake Bay may be the answer. Though not as popular as it once was, chasing these shorebirds...
The Gun Collection
“It was over there, in old furniture stores, junk yards and other out of the way places—where they knew nothing about old guns, and cared less, just so they could sell them at most any price—that some of the real prizes turned up, such as the Sharps coffee mill carbine, the Harpers Ferry blunderbuss, the 1840 Musketoon and the Republic of Texas Rifle. Pieces like these, as you probably know, are to the long gun collector, what the Walkers and Patersons are to the Colt collectors.
Pit Blind Geese | Sporting Classics Daily
Each gust of wind brought the smell of freshly spread cow manure from the cut cornfield below. The maize had been harvested in the fall, and the ducks, geese, turkey and whitetails devoured any errant ears left behind with the corn stover. This was the year the field needed nitrogen, so it was rotated, and winter rye was planted and fertilized with the slurry. Now it was winter, and snow dustings covered the field.
Setters and Pointers in Advertising
The old shed next to our barn was a no-frills zone built only of studs and clapboard. Its purpose was simple: to keep tools and equipment dry. There was no insulation, so it wasn’t a focal point for the men in either the summer or winter. Except for rainy days, the top section of the Dutch door remained open for much of the year, and the shed attracted a mix of field mice, barn cats, and knock-around boys. I was one of them. There was the sweet smell, a mixture of hay and oats.
The Magic Quarter
“Son, I’ve got something for ya,” said the grizzled hunter, poking our late November campfire and sending ember offerings and prayers to the Man Upstairs. I had known my friend ever since I was a tyke, and I always called him Uncle John, even though he was not among my kinfolk. He stood up to reach into the right pocket of his Wranglers, then pulled out a closed hand, clenching something within. “Been carrying this for lots of years and it’s always brought me good luck,” he said.
The Ghost Bear - Sporting Classics Daily
Frontiersmen are not, as a rule, apt to be very superstitious. They lead lives too hard and practical, and have too little imagination in things spiritual and supernatural. I have heard but few ghost stories while living on the frontier, and these few were of a perfectly commonplace and conventional type. But I once listened to a goblin story which rather impressed me. It was told by a grizzled, weather-beaten old mountain man named Bauman, who was born and had passed all his life on the frontier.
The Art of Pointers and Flushers
The wind shifted overnight, and those northerlies sure cut yesterday’s highs in half. Replacing the hazy hot and humid was dog running weather; mid 40-degree highs, moderate humidity and a consistent, light-variable breeze. Carried on the wind was more than scent, and they brought both smells and sounds. It was deceiving, for both seemed far, far away when they really were quite close. I noticed the clean, sweet and woody smell of the pines.
Tom Keer - Sporting Classics Daily
Why the Wye by | May 30, 2025 An act of God combined with a dash of Grace creates a trout stream of royal proportion. Not far from the dirt path was a field thick with wide stalks of dark green, calf-high grass. To get a glimpse of the sun, wildflowers in nearly every hue—soft purple and blue,... Of Remingtons, Parkers and Old Pats by | May 28, 2025 Devout Remington men toting Parkers? Winchester Lofts by | Mar 5, 2025 In my late teens, the Connecticut drinking age was a youthful 18 years of age.
Grover Cleveland: Our Kind of President
Not many years ago, while residing in a non-sporting but delightfully cultured and refined community, I found that considerable indignation had been aroused among certain good neighbors and friends, because it had been said of me that I was willing to associate in the field with any loafer who was the owner of a dog and gun… I sadly reflected how their dispositions might have been sweetened and their lives made happier if they had yielded something to the particular type of frivolity which...
Patsy & the Princes: A Classic Story by Archibald Rutledge
The daughter of Carolina Frank is a princess by right. I became Patsy’s when she was only four weeks old, and she already showed her blue blood and all it means in a pointer pup. Sensitive, patrician and affectionate, she was not happy unless she could curl up in my lap by day and sleep on my bed at night. She was high-strung to a degree. When she first barked, the sound of her own voice almost scared her to death.