Hunting and Fishing News Blog Articles

Deer drives are a great tactic to use late in the season. (Gerry Bethge/)

The noise coming up from the valley sounded like a high school marching band walking down Main Street on the 4th of July. Pots and pans clanged and banged, branches snapped, hounds bayed, and there were whistles and yells going back and forth. When a shot rang out, everything went silent waiting for the radios to crackle. The transmission came after a moment: ‘big buck down.’ Welcome to December deer drives, where hollers come from the hollows (Keep in mind that driving deer is not legal in all states. Check your deer hunting regulations carefully before heading afield).

The Bronx Bomber

Deer drives aren’t big nor loud for Tony Caggiano of Tony Caggiano Outdoors. His drives consist of three people and two of them are shooters.

“I’ve got a 5,000-acre property to hunt in New York State, and a few smaller farms, too,” he says. “To hunt it effectively, I’ll break down the entire property into smaller parcels for a day’s hunt. Every section is different, so I’ll take the terrain into account. Add in where the deer are bedded and the drive is simple.

“The deer’s bedding areas connect to the game trails, and those connect into natural funnels,” he continues. “In my area the natural funnels are created by draws and saddles. When deer are pushed out of their beds they get wary. They feel more confident when moving along their game trails. I use a tailwind to push my scent down through the bedding areas and around the swamp edges to get the deer up and moving down. I move slowly and quietly to keep the deer from getting scared. That reduced movement keeps the deer calm, and they’ll sneak out instead of bolt. If there isn’t much action on one piece of land, then I’ll carve out a second chunk and go from there. It’s more about time than weather, and the only condition where I won’t hunt is with a head wind.

Rabbit pelts are in their prime in the cold winter months. (Beka Garris/)

During the cold winter months, rabbit hunting is one of my favorite things to do. Especially right after a fresh snow—there’s nothing like flinging arrows at cottontails.

Rabbit fur is incredibly soft and beautiful when it’s prime, and at the beginning of rabbit season this year I decided to start saving my rabbit hides to eventually make a blanket.

I knew that it would take quite a few rabbit pelts to create a blanket for anyone other than a baby, and sending them away to be professionally tanned would cost more than I wanted to spend. So, I decided to tan the rabbit hides on my own.

I have tanned several deer hides, squirrels, fox, coyote, and mink. Rabbit, however, is a completely different story. If you’ve ever skinned a cottontail rabbit, you’ll know that their hides are the “tissue paper” of furbearing animals. Their skin is so thin and delicate that you can easily skin them without using a knife.

There are many ways to tan animal hides, and it can be overwhelming. Even once you decide on a specific method, there are various ways to approach it. After several nights of scouring the internet, including many taxidermy sites, I discovered a method called soap tanning that looked like it might work for rabbits. All the instructions I found were vague, but the process seemed simple enough. Not only does this method use simple household items, but it’s free of harsh chemicals. That means it’s safe to do indoors, and with small children and animals around.

The Argentine tegu is running amuck in the South. (Dustin Smith/ flickr.com/dsmiami/)

Fast-moving, terrestrial lizards are slinking their way through the Southeast, invading national parks and possibly your backyard. Native to South America, the Argentine black and white tegu was introduced in South Florida through the pet trade. Since 2013, hundreds of tegus have been found after escaping captivity or being released by pet owners. Recent sightings in Georgia and South Carolina confirmed what biologists feared—Argentine black and white tegus are slowly but surely inching north, expanding their range.

“The whole southern part of the U.S. is at risk of tegu invasion,” says Amy Yackel Adams, a biologist with the U.S. Geological Survey, who is studying the animal.

Tegus have been bred and imported into the U.S. for decades. The intelligent and affectionate lizards are highly prized among reptile owners. Between 2000 and 2015, over 79,000 tegus were imported to the U.S.

Spreading Through the South

Everglades National Park is an attractive habitat for the reptile that hails from south of the equator. This year alone, 900 Argentine black and white tegus have been captured in USGS traps set near the park. Florida is notorious for its invasive reptiles, including the Burmese python, which were once imported as pets.

A hard-earned public-land mule deer. (Aram von Benedikt/)

Low in the west the sun shines grimly, slow-cooking me where I lie prone atop a jagged rock outcropping. I’ve been here for five hours, moving nothing more than my eyes. This morning I watched a big Coues deer buck fade into a cliff-bottom stand of oaks, and I intend to be waiting when he reemerges. I spotted him from miles away, hiked hours to get into position, and am now atop the only vantage that offers a shot...if the buck steps out. Sometimes Coues bucks get up during midday and relocate, and I hadn’t dared risk missing that opportunity, if it materialized. Subsequently I’ve been in position all afternoon, sharp rocks restructuring my belly and ribs, the sun barbecuing my back and brains. This is public land, and to kill big game here a hunter must pull out all the stops.

Opportunity to hunt is becoming limited nationwide, mostly because private lands are being leased up or purchased by outfitters and wealthy sportsmen (the East), but also because our human population is burgeoning (the West). No longer is it a simple matter to knock on a farmer’s door and gain permission to hunt on his land in exchange for a few days spent mending fences or bailing hay. As a result, hunters often must turn to hunting public lands. But public ground, especially considering the ever-increasing hunter pressure, is a tough place to kill big game. Here are some tips and tactics that will help you put meat in the freezer and antlers on the wall.

1. Bivy Hunting

I believe that the single most effective weapon in my public-land arsenal is bivy hunting. This means putting a lightweight camp in my backpack, and living in the woods rather than hiking in and out twice a day to hunt. You’ll save tremendous energy and effort, be in position to hunt with a minimum of disturbance, and stay more focused. Just this fall, I loaded my backpack, shouldered my rifle, and disappeared into a public-land area to hunt Coues deer for several days. I camped atop a mountain that offered good glassing vantage points, and shot my best-ever Coues buck from that very mountain, an old monarch with teeth worn to the gums. Learn to bivy hunt; it will pay off on public land.

2. Pattern Your Quarry

Lee Abraham and his 204-inch Iowa monster. (Lee Abraham/)

It takes a lot for a buck to be special in Iowa. A land of true whitetail giants, the convergence of genetics and abundant nutrition makes for a preponderance of big deer. Even so, 200-plus inch bucks are still a relative rarity that few hunters will ever see, much less get the chance to harvest (on their own property to boot). When the buck dubbed GQ by Dr. Lee Abraham’s wife first appeared on trail cameras on his Iowa farm three years ago, it was clearly a gorgeous, albeit standard, Iowa buck that needed more age. There was little to suggest he would quickly attain the size and majesty he did. —By Lee Abraham as told to Doug Howlett

But with last year’s sheds of the buck in hand, Abraham was blown away when trail cam photos beginning in March and on through the summer revealed how much this beast had grown in just one year. Even then, Abraham, whose passion for deer hunting led him to become the majority investor in 41 North Media and Midwest Whitetails, wasn’t sure he’d shoot the buck if he got the chance. Abraham only seeks to take bucks that are at least 5½ years old and given the bucks relatively slim body, he wasn’t so sure he was that old. Then he began to hunt him and saw the buck in person. This is his story...

We knew GQ was a beautiful deer with lots of potential, but i didn’t expect him to get as big as he did in one year. We found his sheds last year and then starting in March we picked him up on our trail cameras where I watched him grow inch after inch. He just kept getting bigger and bigger, and then he got his splits. I was just amazed at what he was doing in the one year of growth.

So, my cameraman, Josh Sparks, and I started to put together a plan for this buck going into the fall. We wanted to wait until the rut was kicking in to give us the best opportunity at seeing GQ, so on Oct. 29, we began hunting him. The first hunt using a Hoyt bow was for three days. I saw him on Oct. 31 for the first time this year. He was 120 yards away and the mass on him just blew me away.

I could tell a huge change in his demeanor. In just one year, he was not just a bigger buck, but a much more cautious buck, deliberate in his movements. Last year he had been just fearless—ran into any rattle to check it out. Even then you could tell every other deer he was around respected him purely for the size of his headgear. I never got a shot and after those three days, I had to return to work.

The sun sets on the White River in Arkansas, where the author and his boys planned to go fishing. (Herrick, via Wiki Commons/)

The little blonde one, Levi, got quiet and wandered off to be alone in my office.

Just a few minutes earlier I told him that his oldest brother, Jason, had tested positive for COVID-19. We were waiting for test results on a day when we should have been traveling to the White River in Arkansas for a day of trout fishing with my parents. From there, the little one and I were supposed to meet my friend Donald in Missouri for a whitetail hunt. It was his birthday trip, one that was nearly a year in the making.

I walked into my office and found Levi slumped over on the couch with tears silently running down his face. Having this trip taken away at the last moment was a lot for a nine-year-old to process.

I flopped down onto the couch and wrapped him up in a hug. Hot tears soaked into my shirt as we sat there. There were no words. It was the final straw in a crap year of uncertainty and frustration.

After a few minutes, Levi looked up.

1936 Model 99-EG next to 1970s era Savage Model 99-E. Note the lack of a cartridge counter window on the 99-E. (Bryce M. Towsley/)

In the early years of the twentieth century whitetail populations were making a comeback and deer hunting was a growing sport. Lever action rifles ruled the woods for at least the first half of the century and beyond. Even in my early years of hunting in the late sixties, lever actions seemed to fill the gun rack in every deer camp. The most popular was the Winchester Model 94, usually in .30-30, and this rifle dominated the deer woods.

While the 94 was the gun for the masses, the gun guys, the hunters who “knew stuff” had a different pick. The Savage Model 99 rifle was often their choice. While the tube magazine on the Winchester and Marlin lever actions limited the rifles to use with blunt nose bullets, with its rotary box magazine the Savage 1899 could use pointed bullets for a ballistic advantage. It was also strong enough to handle powerful cartridges using that newfangled smokeless powder.

The lever action Model 99 featured an internal hammer and many advanced features like a cocking indicator and even a counter to show the number of cartridges in the magazine. It was simply a more sophisticated design than the other lever actions. The introduction of the .250 Savage cartridge for the Model 1899 in 1915 ushered a new world of deer cartridges. At the time most cartridges barely broke the 2,000 ft/s barrier, but this one hit 3,000 ft/s with an 87-grain bullet. The savviest hunters recognized the advantage over the big, slow, hard kicking, straight walled black powder cartridges that were still in vogue at that time.

Five years later in 1920, Savage changed the name to the Model 99 and introduced the .300 Savage, a cartridge that at the time matched the ballistics of the .30-06. With these advanced cartridges the Savage Model 99 rifle became the thinking man’s deer rifle.

Prior to WWI bolt action rifles were almost unheard of for deer hunting and the Savage Model 1899 lever action rifle led the industry in innovation and performance. Even after the war when bolt action sporting rifles began to emerge into the market, the Savage remained one of the most popular hunting rifles on earth.

Today’s deer hunters are better than any before them at tagging big whitetail bucks, and trail cameras are a big reason why. They’ve given modern hunters more insight into deer behavior, which has allowed us to adapt our strategies accordingly—not just in one week or one season, but over time. And, maybe more than we’d like to admit, trail cameras have helped us practice restraint. It’s easier to pass on a little buck when you have pictures of a bigger one running around.

Trail cameras aren’t perfect. Sometimes they spook deer. Sometimes we’re too reliant on them. And sometimes—like when we have 500 photos of a buck but a neighbor shoots him—they can bring out the worst in deer hunters. But overall, trail cameras are a good thing that I enjoy, and from June to January, I have 15 to 20 of them keeping tabs on farms that I hunt myself, and where we guide other hunters. I sort through thousands of photos every week of deer season. Here’s a look at some of my favorites from the past few years.

The Comeback Buck

On occasion—rarer than you’d think by watching outdoor television—trail cameras allow us to closely follow and pattern a single buck for an entire year. This whitetail first appeared on our cameras in the late season of 2019. Firearm season had just ended, and the buck was obviously wounded (though I’ve always thought that wound looked more like a broadhead mark than a bullet mark).

Whatever hurt him, the buck bellied right up to a corn pile, healed fast, and then stuck around all summer, eating in our food plots and at our feeders. By early September, you could barely tell he had a scar. One of the hunters we guided during opening week of bow season had a close call with this deer, and nearly got a shot. After that hunt ended, my wife, Michelle, sat in that stand for two evenings, and shot the buck with a crossbow at 25 yards. There was a slight scar on the buck’s hide, but two solid handfuls of scar tissue around the wound underneath. Still, Michelle said, the buck had no limp, and no obvious signs of injury. He was one of several bucks in a bachelor group and despite having the largest antlers by a good margin, he was relaxed, chill, and even submissive to some of the rowdier, younger bucks. Seeing this buck shot was bittersweet.

There is some big country out West, but any Midwest whitetail hunter can be successful here with a little know how. (Jordan Budd/)

Hunting big game out West has long been a bucket-list trip for many Midwest and Eastern deer hunters. And as a guide in Nebraska, who has chased elk, mule deer, whitetails, pronghorn and other critters, I can tell you it’s only grown in popularity, drawing in new hunters every year. The tall mountains and vast lands where wild animals roam are like nothing else I have experienced. But some folks think these hunts are beyond their reach. They have listened to one too many bar flies tell them you need to spend thousands of dollars, be able to hike up to 10,000 feet, and shoot a rifle longrange. It’s intimidating. But I am here to tell you it’s possible. If you’re thinking about hunting western big game for the first time, here are some of the myths you’ve likely head that aren’t true.

1. It Costs a Fortune

Wrong. While you can certainly spend a lot of money to go on a fully outfitted hunt, you also have the cheaper option of going on your own. A DIY trip will cost you money in three places; food, gas, and tags. I’m skipping lodging costs, assuming you’ll want to camp in the wild, which I recommend because it puts you closer to the animals you’re in pursuit of (and you will learn more). I

For camping next to the vehicle, which is known as a road camp, here are the staple pieces I bring. For shelter I will bring either a wall tent with a wood stove, or a dome tent with a sewn-in floor. The decision of which to bring can depend on the time of year and/or your budget. A wall tent will typically be more spacious with head room and overall size, plus it gives you the option of adding a stove to keep warm on cold-weather hunts, but will be the more expensive option. A standard dome tent will be cheaper for cost but you cannot use a wood stove for heat and the space will be limited.

Next, you should have a cot to get you off the ground, which adds floor space for your gear too. I have a 4-inch thick foam pad that I roll out on top of the cot to keep the cold air from coming through underneath of my sleeping bag. In addition to that tent and sleep system, you will want some kind of portable cooking stove to prepare your meals. Camp Chef makes a simple propane burner that you can add any pot or pan to for heating water or cooking food. This in combination with a cooler full of food from home can make the trip extra enjoyable. Depending on how you want to hunt and the gear you already have or don’t have can determine extra costs, but we’ll dive into that later.

The author took this Scimitar-horned oryx in Texas with a Weatherby Vanguard rifle chambered in 300 WSM. (Mike Dickerson/)

With consumer prices about 100 percent higher than they were 30 years ago, a dollar buys only half of what it did then. The firearms industry has not been immune to that inflationary pressure. Today, many versions of the classic big three flagship American hunting rifles—the Remington 700, Winchester Model 70 and Ruger’s Model 77 descendent, the Hawkeye— have suggested retail prices of somewhere north of $1,000.

Adjusted for inflation, those prices are not out of line, but when you add in the cost of a quality scope, base, rings, and ammo, you’re looking at a chunk of change that many people simply can’t afford. Gun makers are well aware of this economic reality and have scrambled in recent years to produce more affordable guns for the masses. This race to the bottom, as some have derisively called it, has resulted in a market glutted with bolt-action guns costing less than $500. Many of these guns necessarily cut a few corners in quality, leaving many hunters longing for something that’s a step up from the bargain-priced guns, but still affordable.

Happily, there’s no shortage of fine hunting rifles that bridge the gap between the higher-priced rifles and the economy guns. Here, in no particular order, are 10 rifles that fit into a mid-priced range, costing more than $500 but less than $1,000. (For a full test of bargain hunting rifles, click here). the Manufacturer’s suggested retail prices are listed, but you can usually find these guns at a lower real-world price.

Weatherby Vanguard Synthetic

Compared to its famous Weatherby Mark V stable mate, the Weatherby Vanguard has always been positioned as a more affordable rifle—but affordable doesn’t mean cheap. Vanguards are fine guns, and three of them reside in my safe, including one chambered in .257 Wby. Mag. that has probably accounted for more game than any other rifle in my collection. Vanguards have been made in numerous versions over the years, and are now offered in no fewer than 22 variations, including Backcountry, Wilderness, and Dangerous Game models, with prices rising as you step up in quality or into more specialized models. The basic Vanguard Synthetic model is available in 16 chamberings with 24-inch barrels for standard cartridges and 26-inch barrels for cartridges of magnum persuasion. Monte Carlo-style stocks have non-slip pistol grip and forend inserts. A drop-box magazine option is offered in some chamberings. The push-feed Vanguard action, with dual opposed locking lugs, is a beefy, strong one with a one-piece machined and fluted bolt. Buyers of older Vanguards routinely replaced the less-than-stellar triggers of yesteryear, but today’s guns have an adjustable match-quality, two-stage trigger and three-position safety. The gun comes with a three-shot, sub-MOA accuracy guarantee. (MSRP: $599)

Brennan Morris with his 46-point Louisiana buck. (The Confluence Group/)

On November 5, a young Louisiana hunter with just a couple hours to hunt before starting work, climbed into a stand in an area where trail cams had captured a big buck just days before. It was a buck he and his hunting companions had been tracking for several years and suddenly he was back on the camera after not being seen for awhile. The hunter got into the stand with the thin hope of spying the creature on the hoof. What happened next may well change the record books for whitetail deer in the state known as the Sportsman’s Paradise. Here is his story. —Brennan Morris as told to Doug Howlett

I did everything wrong. Everything they tell you to do to kill a big buck? Well, it seems I did the opposite. I didn’t mean to. That’s just the way it worked out.

The property is roughly 3,000 acres and we have farmed it and hunted it for eight years. I killed my first deer when I was five-years-old and have killed enough deer that unless it’s a good-sized buck I’ll let it walk. We try to only shoot bucks that are at least 5 ½ years old or older. Until this year, I probably haven’t killed a buck in five years.

This buck first showed up on our trail cameras three years ago—getting bigger every year. Considering how big he was when we first caught him on camera and catching him on the camera these past few years, we figured he had to be at least 5 ½ now. The problem was, he hadn’t shown up in any of our photos during the early part of this season. Suddenly he was gone. I worried he had gotten hit by a car or got sick and died somehow.

Then, on Sunday, November 1, he showed back up on camera. He was in the same area we had seen him in previous years, an area that has been known to produce good bucks in the past. The camera was set up about 100 yards off a creek and close to what we thought was a bedding area. It was a good travel corridor for bucks as they moved between feeding and bedding. We knew the clock was ticking—he might not be around forever and a logging crew was set to come in to begin clear cutting the timber.

Matt Brunswick’s 252-plus (green score) Ohio monster non-typical. (Matt Brunswick/)

If I’ve ever had a true love-hate relationship, it is with the state of Ohio.

Living just about an hour from the Buckeye State’s northern border, I’ve spent more time hunting in Ohio than any other state beside my home state of Michigan—andI’ve yet to kill a single buck. In that time, however, I’ve captured trailcam images, seen in person and had painfully close encounters with enough world-class whitetails that I really don’t need much more evidence to know that Ohio is a pretty special place for truly big bucks.

But, just in case you do, here’s the evidence.

In the world of deer hunting, there are but a few states that seem to hold truly legendary status with locales like Iowa, Kansas, and Illinois likely topping the list of most serious whitetail hunters. Ohio is often mentioned but not given the status that it has earned. Over the past decade or so, the number of truly giant whitetails that have been tagged across the country has been incredible. With more hunters learning what it takes to produce top-end bucks (the primary factor being age), the sheer volume of gagger-size bucks displayed every year on social media and hunting-focused outlets continues to climb. And a whole bunch of those — and I dare say some of the biggest of the big — are coming out of Ohio. Don’t believe me?

Take a look at this Facebook page. If you’re an Instagram fan, take a gander at the hashtag #ohiobigbuck. The results are jaw-dropping.

Many rifles now come standard with muzzle brakes, the author prefers to remove them. (Tyler Freel/)

“Obnoxious,” I can’t help but think to myself. I can feel the concussion reverberating through the shooting range, even from several benches down. The shooter is doing nothing wrong, really, he’s just banging away with a muzzle brake on his rifle. I have a similar gut reaction as when someone fires up an old 2-stroke outboard on a quiet fishing hole (once you’ve become accustomed to a 4-stroke). I’m not passing judgement on the muzzle brake shooter (I have used brakes plenty) but I still mutter to myself just about every time I encounter another shooter with a brake at the range.

Muzzle brakes although not new at all, have seemingly become much more popular in recent years. New, hot rod cartridges like the Nosler series 27, 28, and 30, the 300 PRC, and several of the .338 magnums have been a major driver of the trend. Some of these cartridges would be horrendous to shoot without a brake, so having them come standard on these rifles is perfectly logical. I believe that another driver of muzzle brake popularity is tied to their use in PRS competition. They are often used not to prevent painful recoil, but to reduce movement of the rifle upon firing, which allows the shooter to more easily spot his impacts and make adjustments if needed. It doesn’t matter how macho a person is, heavy-recoiling rifles can lead to accuracy issues for a shooter, and a muzzle brake unequivocally aids in accurate, consistent shooting.

It seems that muzzle brakes are popping up more and more frequently as standard kit on production hunting rifles as well. Again, this would be expected on something like a 33 Nosler or .300 PRC, but they’re even showing up on rifles in powder-puff kicking cartridges like 7mm-08, 6.5 Creemoor, and .308. Fortunately, most include an optional thread protector to install once you remove the brake, but many folks don’t do this.

The upside of muzzle brakes is obviously softened recoil and less muzzle jump, which can lead to more comfortable, consistent shooting, as well as making it easier to see your impact. The downside is the tremendous felt concussion and noise that is created by redirecting muzzle gasses to reduce the recoil. The concussion isn’t really noted by the shooter, but if you happen to be anywhere alongside and you’re not ready for it, the blast will ring your bell. Ear protection is critical at all times.

Most of the time, I want nothing to do with muzzle brakes in a hunting scenario. I have been in several situations where my hunting partner had a brake and I was trying to film or spot his shot. Even while wearing hearing protection, the concussion jolted me at best, and at worst it left my ears ringing for more than a day. Muzzle brakes are fantastic at what they do, but the caveat is that unless you want to give yourself or your hunting partner permanent hearing damage, you must wear hearing protection for every single shot. We really should do our best to pop a set of plugs in before we shoot (with or without muzzle brakes), and I almost always carry them. But sometimes shot opportunities happen quickly and there’s not time to throw on ear pro. However, with a brake, you don’t an option.

Brian Gartner in a predicament, 18 miles deep in the backcountry on the day the author tagged along to check the trapline in Montana. (Toby Walrath/)

Imagine that it’s mid January and the thermometer reads 20 below zero. The snow on the pass is roughly eight feet deep although it’s difficult to tell with drifts that could bury a bulldozer. It’s dark and lonely up there on the mountain but for true marten men like Guy Kempthorne all that matters now is that the season is half over and it’s time to move.

Hidden among rocky mountain vistas and dark stands of lodge pole timber live pine marten; small weasel-like creatures with dark fur and an insatiable appetite for just about anything edible. Pelts from these marten are used world-wide to make clothing for warmth and fashion. Every single one of them is brought to market by fur trappers who specialize in adventure.

Serious marten men are a little-known group of tough trappers who work in near secrecy. It’s not because they are hiding from the world but rather the world simply can’t find them. They travel the most difficult terrain to ply their trade and brave brutal conditions.

Read Next: 10 Lessons for First-Time Fur Trappers

There isn’t a pile of money waiting at the end of the three-month-long season. In 30 years, Kempthorne has seen high averages of nearly $100 per pelt and lows of just $15. It takes three months to accumulate 20 to 40 marten when things are good. But it makes no difference how much the pelts are worth or how many marten are caught, marten men are driven by more than profit to run their trap lines.

Brent, with his second archery buck of 2020. (Justin Cearlock /)

Some deer hunters spend their whole lives dreaming of a record-book buck. Few find themselves on the other side of that mountain. So what happens when it’s all over? How do you keep climbing, when the biggest deer you’ll likely ever encounter is behind you? What’s there to look forward to?

Plenty, if you’re Brent or Justin Cearlock. Such questions might plague hunters stuck in seasons past, but the Cearlock brothers and their buddies aren’t one-hit wonders. In 2018, their buddy Luke Brewster killed the world-record whitetail on the farm they all hunt together in Eastern Illinois. Brewster made a perfect shot and notched the tag, but his individual success was made possible through a team effort: hard pre-season work, judicious hunting pressure, and careful age-structure management. The Cearlock brothers killed big deer before the world-record arrived in their woods, but the collective hunt for that 328-inch non-typical wasn’t the peak. It was the beginning of a new era.

2019: The Massive Typical

The buck Brent came to think of as the 6x5 first caught the Cearlock’s attention in 2017, when the deer was three years old. When the buck jumped into the mid-150s the following season, the bowhunters took notice. Agreeing to pass deer on this particular property was tricky, since there was a chance a neighbor might shoot the 4-year-old deer. But the brothers decided to risk it. And early that November­—on his birthday—Brent stuck to the plan.

“I had him come in and stand about 15 yards from me at first light,” says Brent. “I just decided to pass him, hoping that he could make it. I really thought he had the potential to do something special if he could get to 5 years old.”

The author's dog Otis with a hard-earned Minnesota rooster. (Alex Robinson/)

“Throw some shells in your gun, there’s usually birds right at the start of this field,” I told my buddy Matt. “And if she gets on a bird it’s going to be obvious. She’s not going to stop. You’re going to have to run after her.”

I was referring to my 5-year-old black Lab Otis who, at the first whiff of a pheasant, transforms from mild-mannered couch potato into a homicidal, world-class sprinter. Sure enough, there were birds in the field and they started running as Otis closed in on them. As instructed, Matt chased after her, running flat-out to where the chest-high bluestem hit a mowed field. A hen erupted from the cover, then another hen, then a rooster went airborne, cutting hard left and giving Matt a 35-yard crossing shot. A miss.

“What have you done?” Matt asked, breathing hard, hands on knees as I caught up to him. “Oh, what have you done to this dog?” We’d been hunting for a total of 10 minutes.

It doesn’t have to be this way. Plenty of Labs and other flushing dogs will work slowly and closely (and you can learn about how to train them for that here, but that’s not what this story is about).  My cousin has a Lab that hunts cautiously, thoughtfully even. Watching them track down a running rooster is like watching two veteran investigators work a crime scene. But when Otis and I hit a pheasant field, it feels more like we’re about to knock over a 7-Eleven. We’re both excited and a little nervous. I’m not sure exactly what’s going to happen but I’m certain that it’s going to happen quickly, and that at some point I’ll probably have to run.

But here’s the thing, more often than not we kill our birds. Over the years, I’ve learned how to use Otis’ speed and extreme prey drive (ok, wildness) as a strength rather than a hindrance. We kill a lot more roosters than we used to. And over that time I’ve noticed that a lot more folks have flushing dogs like Otis than they do perfectly controlled dogs that never stray outside of shotgun range. It’s admirable to always strive and train for a better bird dog. But it’s practical to learn to hunt well with the one you have. So if you’ve got a wild-ass flushing dog like mine, these tips will help.

It's our job has hunters to follow game laws. (John Hafner/)

“I got one!” my buddy (a new hunter) told me as soon as I picked up the phone. He was talking about a cow moose that he’d just killed with his bow, filling a local semi-urban, archery-only draw permit. He quickly gave me the details, and although his hunt was completely legal, the cow died near a fairly busy road, so I told him to make sure and have his license and permit handy because he was sure to get a visit from the wildlife troopers (Alaska’s game law enforcement agency). In hindsight, I wish I’d have told him to call them and tell them about it himself. Soon enough he was visited by three different troopers, lights flashing. This is an uncomfortable situation for anyone, regardless of outcome. Even the most seasoned, ethical hunter will begin to second-guess themselves under interrogation.

As hunters, we have a unique interface with law enforcement. We are regularly license-checked, and law-abiding hunters typically have a direct understanding of how important wildlife law enforcement is. We know that many of the agents, wardens, and troopers have the same passion for the outdoors that we do. There are always exceptions, but in my experience most wildlife enforcement officers can relate to hunters and just want to make sure everyone is playing by the rules. Naturally, everyone will have their own opinion on whether or not they’ve had positive or negative interactions with wildlife law enforcement. That said, we don’t want to throw them under the bus for simply doing their jobs. When you’re hunting in close proximity to other people, you can expect to be visited by the local trooper or warden. This is all pretty standard.

However, I’ve been noticing a growing issue in situations like this. It seems that we live in an increasingly Orwellian society full of snitches and tattle-tales. Now, don’t get me wrong, actual wildlife violations should absolutely be reported. Perhaps a more contemporary way to say this is that even here in Fairbanks, Alaska, there are “Karens” everywhere. These folks see something they don’t like, and think “might” not be legal, or they simply see an opportunity to cause someone else an inconvenience, and they feel obligated to call the authorities. I don’t like this situation, but it’s the reality. If you’re hunting where people can see what you’re doing, you’re bound to be reported, it’s just a fact of life. Depending on the situation, there are several things you can to do save yourself time and headaches, as well as allowing law enforcement to focus on actual poachers and law breakers.

When to Call Ahead

Sometimes, it’s a good idea to call your local wildlife enforcement agent or warden before you ever go hunting. Call ahead when you know you’re going to be hunting in a spot or manner that an unwitting passerby might think “could” be illegal. In some places, this is actually required and saves a lot of hassle. When I was a kid growing up in Colorado, you could use spotlights to hunt predators at night, but on public land, you needed to call the warden before you went (to prevent folks from jacklighting deer). Even if you do end up getting checked, it’s likely that since they already know you’re going to be there and they know what you’re doing, the stop will go quickly and smoothly. This can save you a tremendous headache and perhaps even save you from a disrupted hunt. I’m not saying that law enforcement needs to keep tabs on our every move, but in a situation where you’re likely to encounter them anyway, you might as well make it easier on everyone and let them know what you’re up to.

Stale and late-season mallards are tough to kill consistently. (Joe Genzel/)

Duck hunters have been infatuated with mallards since the dawn of the duck call. They are the most call-responsive species of waterfowl, and we love to turn around drakes, who would otherwise keep flying back to the refuge, into the decoys floating in front of the duck blind. That’s probably one of the reasons why they have become so wary in many places across the four flyways—we hunt them too darn much.

More than any other duck (with the exception of the fickle gadwall and pintail), mallards figure out the game quickest when hunting season begins. And as the season runs deeper into December and January, they can become very difficult to kill. Just like any other waterfowl species, mallards are most susceptible when the weather forces them to fly and feed. But there are a lot of days where greenheads simply won’t move much. Hell, maybe they only fly once in a very short window of time, which shrinks your chances to kill them.

There are a few tactics I have learned over the years that have led to more full straps. They aren’t foolproof, and I’ve lost to late-season and pressured mallards more than I have won. But these tips can still give you an edge over everyone else in the marsh.

Rethink Full-Moon Mallards

Every duck hunter hates to see a full moon, because it allows ducks to feed at night, and then they won’t fly out the next morning. But if there was a decent temperature drop the night before, it’s sunny, and there’s an 8 to 10 mph wind forecast for the morning, you can kill greenheads. Typically, there will be a few birds that move at shooting light and then a pretty long lull—until maybe 11 a.m. or noon—before you see another duck. If you sleep in and get out there in the late morning, you have a pretty good chance of killing greenheads. For one, you’re not going to have as much competition, because most hunters that woke up early will call it quits around 10 a.m. (or sooner), so it might just be you out there in the marsh. That’s a big advantage.

A freezer will keep game for about 48 hours without power. After that, you've got some decisions to make. (Jack Hennessy/)

What happens to all your hard-earned game if the power goes out for an extended period of time? During COVID-19 shutdowns, we got a brief glimpse into the precarious nature of the every-day services that we rely on. Meat aisles and toilet paper shelves were pillaged and left barren. “One-person-customer” signs were plastered across stores and a sense of panic permeated a large segment of our country.

For many of us hunters and anglers, we were likely less worried. But maybe you did count the mason jars in the cupboard or the propane tanks stacked in the garage?

Many of us who get our food from the land and the wild critters it grows tend to have a greater understanding of how to survive without modern conveniences. However, being truly self-sufficient is much more challenging than it may seem.

And here’s the thing, it doesn’t have to be an apocalyptic scenario you’d see on TV. It could be something as simple as a severe thunderstorm and heavy winds that knock out electricity. My parents live south of Chicago and were without power for seven days earlier this year after a bad storm. Most freezers are safe for about 48 hours. So what’s the first step when approaching the 50-hour mark? Start by assessing your access to the following items.

1. Power Generators

As winter draws near, most people assume that their outdoor pursuits are winding down. This doesn’t have to be the case, as many die-hard outdoor enthusiasts keep practicing their survival skills throughout the colder months (when you can really test your mettle). If you’re looking for inspiration or just an excuse to get out of the house, then try your hand at one (or all) of these winter bushcraft skills.

1. Build a Shelter

Since hypothermia can kill a person more quickly than dehydration or starvation, shelter is a top survival priority. There’s no better time to practice shelter construction than in cold, winter weather. Shelter styles abound, though you should strive to match both the available resources and the worst weather you might face. A loose leaf debris shelter is no match for high winds and a structure with a flat roof is just begging for leaks during heavy winter rains. You’ll need to pick the right shelter for the job. During your winter practice time, you also can experiment with new building techniques and materials. There’s no better way to learn a skill than by doing it and carefully studying the results (whether you feel successful or not).

2. Master New Knots

When I think about all of the variations in ropes and knots around the world, it’s easy to become overwhelmed. There are hundreds of different materials to use for tying, and there are even more knots in existence. It’s been estimated that there are more than 3,000 known knots and I would speculate that there are many more that have been forgotten over the centuries. For someone who only uses two or three knots on a regular basis, it can be hard to choose which new knot(s) to learn. I recommend focusing on one of your most common activities and try a new knot associated with it. If you camp in cold weather, try knots that will help during this activity. You can use a sheet bend when the corner grommet rips out of your tarp to rejoin a rope to the tarp corner. And whichever knot, hitch, or fastening you decide to learn, take advantage of your natural “down time” in the winter to practice the knot until you can do it with your eyes closed.