The November air is crisp, cool and pure and the afternoon sun warms the rocky outcrop and the two companions who rest on a high Appalachian ridge. No movement except the flutter of wings and no sound but the call of a crow from the valley below break the stillness and silence of the mountains. The old worn flintlock has not spoken today, belching forth it's smoke and fire, but the pleasures of the hunt are not diminished.

Coy Fitzpatrick is an Appalachian mountain man. The walls of his rustic cabin near West Virginia's Elk River are covered with a collection of guns, knives, hides and horns which he made or decorated himself. More than 90 years of life in the Mountain State has worn, weathered and toughened him but has never dampened his enthusiasm for the great outdoors. Always sleeping outside, he has been known to make his bed in a hollow log on some remote mountainside. Coy and his dog, Jack, have become a local legend and can claim friends in every part of the country.