Staring down a Mississippi monopoly, one Brazoria County company hopes to become a bigger fish in a big pond.
A state breeding program aims to fatten up the trim, pugnacious bass.
The son’s ultimate selfishness is to see his father only as his father—not as a man. But on our first fishing trip in 25 years, I began to see my father—and myself—as the grown men we’d become.
There are bass in Sam Rayburn Reservoir, and the gals were out to hook ’em. And Rhonda Wilcox hoped to hook the biggest one of all.
My quest for this magnificent silver fish drew me to a lonely stretch of the Texas coast night and day, summer and fall, over and over again.
In darkest South Texas roam two of the world’s most endangered species—the black rhino and the Great White Hunter.
I took my son fishing because I wanted him to love the sport—and me.
In which a group of society ladies samples the thrills and chills of an essentially masculine pastime.
Today’s desperadoes are in the bays of the Texas coast, roping redfish and cursing the Parks and Wildlife Department.
Fly-fishing is a particularly fastidious way of trying to fool a fish, but it’s also a particularly pleasant one.
Someone endured weeks of hard work, loneliness, and seasickness to land that lovely pink delicacy on your plate.
Praise the Lord for gentle creatures and pass the ammunition.
Forget Jimmy Carter—this is what the New South’s all about.
Out on the Gulf in a small boat, searching for the makings of shrimp cocktails, shrimp baskets, and shrimp salads.
Cuddling up to a thousand pounds of ravenous hunger.
A veteran hunter and guide tells how it's done.