We’re awash in black guns, but just like fishing lures, a shiny color will catch the attention of a shooter. This is a dedicated semi-auto for 3-Gun and other multi-gun applications. This is well-thought out competition gun that’s packed with plenty of features, and is nimble and handy to run.
This new system from Federal Premium heralds a whole new way to charge muzzleloaders, and is potentially a game changer for your black powder season. Although this system still requires you to front-load the projectile (which is how this still qualifies as a muzzleloader in many states—check your regulations), introducing the powder is much simpler. The FireStick is an encapsulated load of Hodgdon’s new Triple Eight black powder in a waterproof plastic hull, it accepts a standard 209 primer, and is removable, meaning that you no longer have to either ram out or discharge your powder after a day of hunting. The FireStick is compatible with Traditions’ new NitroFire rifle—both were developed in conjunction with each other. It’s worth noting that this is a proprietary system, so you cannot use a FireStick in your existing muzzleloader.
The Buckmasters 3-9X has been a go-to hunting scope for decades. (Nikon/)
In December, just before both the holidays and the seasonal gathering of sporting-goods dealers and group buyers who get together to write orders for the new year, Nikon’s North American office delivered stunning news: It was walking away from the riflescope market.
Dealers were told they could sell through their current inventories of Buckmaster, ProStaff, and BLACK scopes, but they shouldn’t write new orders, and they shouldn’t expect inventories to be replenished.
Nikon’s advertising agency of 25 years confirmed the brand’s contraction from the riflescope sector, but stressed that Nikon will still be a dominant player in the other sports-optics categories, including laser rangefinders, binoculars, and spotting scopes.
News that Nikon was sunsetting its riflescope line sent tremors through the sports-optics industry, especially since Nikon, from its American office on New York’s Long Island, had traditionally owned a significant share of the $900 million market.
“When we heard about it, our jaws just dropped,” says Brady Speth, CEO of Riton Optics, based in Arizona. “We were sad for the sake of what’s become an institution in the industry, but we were pretty happy to be in a position to take some of that market share. Why did Nikon reach that decision? I guess we’ve all had our guesses, but it’s a Japanese company and it’s always been pretty tight-lipped about internal decisions.”
Dead baits presented just beneath the ice will trigger midwinter pike strikes. (By Dr. Jason A. Halfen/)
Nothing gets hard-core ice fishermen more excited than fishing on first or last ice. It’s during these windows of opportunity that fish are most easily located and triggered into striking. In reality, though, the first and last ice periods are brief—typically measured in days—and are often fraught with challenging or unsafe ice conditions.
The bulk of the hardwater season is comprised of the mid-winter period. The ice cap has thickened to relatively consistent, reasonably safe levels and continues to grow with every frigid outburst sent south from Canada. In some locales, full-size trucks and SUV’s are pulling wheelhouses across the frozen surface. Shanty towns are springing up over mid-lake structure and deep basins. Ice fishing derbies, with contestants sometimes numbering in the thousands, offer an opportunity to enjoy some friendly competition and terrific camaraderie. But the inescapable fact is that mid-winter ice fishermen cuss the conditions as loudly as whitetail deer hunters bemoan the October rut-hunting lull.
Why is it so challenging, especially when compared to the relative ease of the early and late ice periods? One of the primary factors is snow cover. Snow reduces light penetration on the ice, and a thick blanket of snow can dramatically darken the water column. Less daylight can make things easier for low-light predators, like walleyes and crappies, but this comes at a cost: the death of healthy, oxygen-producing aquatic vegetation. Green weeds beneath the ice are an absolute oasis of fish activity, from the smallest shiners to the largest gamefish, and thick snow on the ice will rapidly turn attractive green weeds into a fish-repelling brown mass. Fewer green weeds mean lower dissolved oxygen levels, especially in the shallows, further reducing fish activity.
The impact of reduced light penetration on the water’s temperature beneath the ice must be considered as well. The mid-winter snowcap scatters the sun’s warming rays in the infrared portion of the spectrum. As a result, much of the water column, except for the water near the bottom in deep basin areas, is as close to the freezing point as you can get without turning crunchy.
This is the trifecta of challenges that all mid-winter ice anglers hate: low light, low dissolved oxygen, and low temperatures. Nevertheless, this is no time to hang your head in despair. Consistent hardwater success can be yours, especially if you make use of a targeted approach that addresses our three primary challenges.
Elk (Cervus canadensis) (Donald M. Jones/)
The bugle surprises both of us.
It’s the second one we’ve heard from the bull—the first sounded far away among the falling snow and muffling pines. But he’s close now. We look at each other, then Aram looks around our narrow meadow.
“We should sit down,” he says. There’s a rise of timber behind us, and we tuck into it, sitting side by side and propping our rifles on our packs. We’re aiming across 60 yards of meadow at a treeline. Aram cow-calls. This time, the bull cuts him off.
“He’s coming,” Aram says, bending to his scope.
For a full minute we strain our ears and hear nothing but settling snowflakes. Then branches begin to snap as the bull closes the distance, shouldering his way through the pines. I see a flash of tawny hide, and dark forelegs. There’s one tree left between us when I glimpse his antlers. He’s a good bull. I already know the answer, but I ask Aram anyway.
Recruiting new hunters, throwing banquets, granting money, running conservation projects. It all takes time and manpower that can be hard for a small club to muster. (Matt Arkins/)
Editor’s Note: This is the third of a four-part series on Hunting Editor Andrew McKean’s efforts to ditch the national conservation organization banquets and start a more effective local group in his hometown of Glasgow, Montana. | Read part one here. | Part two here.
Hi-Line Sportsmen, based in my hometown of Glasgow, Mont., organized around a couple of foundational principles. First, we resolved to continue our fundraising banquet, which we’ll throw on Leap Day this year, Feb. 29 (hit me up for tickets!). We also agreed that we wouldn’t get involved in issue advocacy lest it divides our membership. And we created a system to distribute funds back to the community by prioritizing the conservation and public benefit of the need.
In our few years—February’s banquet will be our fourth—we’ve raised thousands of dollars from the community. We’ve done that by soliciting donations and by buying products from local merchants to be used as prizes, by raffling a mother lode of guns, and by creating a climate of give-back euphoria so intoxicating that our neighbors literally shove cash at us. With that money, we’ve done an adequate job of funding local conservation needs. We have cost-shared fencing projects on public lands, we’ve purchased docks for local fishing access sites, improved public campgrounds, hosted handgun training courses, and sponsored an Archery in the Schools program. We’ve funded college scholarships, bought targets for our 3D archery range, started a mentored-hunter program, donated hundreds of pounds of locally harvested venison to the food bank, and we’ve helped fund a local .22 rifle league.
But I’m sorry to say that it’s harder to do all of this than we expected.
It’s hard to attract and retain volunteers. It’s hard to give away money. And it’s hard to sustain the vision and commitment to a common purpose that energized us when we founded Hi-Line Sportsmen five years ago.
If you get lost in the wilderness, finding shelter is a first priority. (USFWS/)
A survival shelter can be something you build, with tools or your barehands. It can also be something you find, ready-to-use and provided by nature. Since exposure is one of the top threats in a wilderness survival setting, learning how to find shelter quickly can save your life. The landscape can provide many different kinds of shelters if you just know where to look.
1. Brush and Thickets
We can’t always eat the same wild plants or drink the same water as the wild animals do, but we can take a page from their playbook when it comes to finding shelter. Natural vegetative cover does a lot more than just hide animals from predators. It provides a break to get out of the wind and it can also block some of the rain. In bad weather, you may find that many animals have moved to thickets and other brushy areas for protection. You don’t need to get lost in a briar patch, but take advantage of these wind breaks to find a “microclimate” that feels better than being exposed. A great choice for year-round protection is a thicket of evergreen vegetation. This can deflect the bad weather, even in the winter months. For summer relief, the shade of a brushy canopy can block some of the heat and scorching light from the hot summer sun. As a final thought, when choosing a location for a survival camp, there’s nothing wrong with setting up on the leeward side (the downwind side) of brush and thickets, as they can block the wind that would sweep through your camp day or night.
2. Fallen Logs And Trees
It’s a pity when huge trees fall, but this is a natural part of any forest ecosystem. This opening in the canopy allows light to reach the forest floor and it brings an opportunity for new plants to grow. The trunk and attached disk of roots and soil may fall in such a way that it provides a small measure of protection, especially when the wind and weather are coming from the right direction. It’s not as snug as a hut or a tent, but when you’re in need of a place call “home”, there may be a dry space underneath the trunk or behind the root ball. Inspect it carefully before deciding on using it as a shelter, making sure these structures have moved to their final position and are in no danger of falling down further.
The fight to keep Minnesota’s Boundary Waters safe rages on the heels of a new bipartisan bill trying to protect the area from copper mining. (Alex Robinson/)
Water pollution doesn’t recognize boundaries, so hunters and anglers are singing the praises of new federal legislation that would protect northern Minnesota’s Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness from a copper mine proposed on the doorstep of this famous wilderness area.
The Boundary Waters is probably the most frequently visited unit in the United States Wilderness System. Long famous among outdoorsmen and women, the area provides backcountry deer hunting, along with lake fishing and opportunities for rugged canoe adventures in the Superior National Forest.
However, Twin Metals Minnesota, owned by a Chilean-based mining company, proposed developing a sulfide-ore copper mine immediately upstream from the Boundary Waters. According to the plan, the mine would extract 180 million tons of ore near the Rainy River, which flows into the Boundary Waters. As is often the case with mining, the concern is not so much the hole itself, as the pollution risk associated with treating the ore with chemicals to leach out particles of minerals and heavy metals.
Today, a bipartisan group of lawmakers in Congress introduced the Boundary Waters Wilderness Protection and Pollution Prevention Act (H.R. 5598). If passed, the bill would permanently protect the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness and interconnected public lands and waters located within the watershed.
Lead sponsors of the bill are Reps. Betty McCollum (D-MN) and Francis Rooney (R-FL) with support from original co-sponsors Reps. Fred Upton (R-MI), Dean Phillips (D-MN), Alan Lowenthal (D-CA), and Raul Grijalva (D-AZ).
The author fishing in the Tongass National Forest. (Ian Allen/)
It doesn’t take much to get Mark Hieronymus worked up. We’re walking down an old logging road next to a creek outside of Juneau, and the guide is going back and forth on the two hottest topics in Alaska: fishing and logging.
“We’re going to fish that sexy little beast on the way back,” he says as we pass a deep pool. “Always Dollys in there.”
If you were to imagine an Alaska flyfishing guide, you’d conjure up something close to Hieronymus: flat-brim hat pulled down over dark shades, bushy beard, gravelly voice, and descended from a line of Pacific Northwest fishermen. He grew up fighting steelhead on the rivers of Puget Sound and then chased better fishing and job opportunities to Alaska in 1988. Like most people who spend their lives on a river, his personality shifts from laid-back to intense, depending on the topic of discussion.
The Trump Administration and governor Mike Dunleavy have reignited interests in old-growth logging in this region. So eventually I ask Hieronymus about the perspective that it’s mostly outside environmentalists who are hell-bent on fighting logging—not real Alaskans. That’s when I see his fiery side.
He shoots back with some facts about the timber industry supporting less than 1 percent of the jobs in the region. Meanwhile, tourism (which includes hunting and fishing) and the seafood industry make up 25 percent of the jobs there, according to Trout Unlimited, the nonprofit that Hieronymus also works for. He says the call to revive logging in southeast Alaska is used as a political football that legislators toss around to fire up their base and win elections.
Coffey and Little Stubby with a day's worth of squirrels on the tailgate. (Colin Moore /)
“If that dog trees, you can believe there’s a squirrel up there somewhere.”
Harold Knight sounds convinced as he heads toward the source of the commotion. Voicing an unbroken series of chopping barks, Little Stubby, a mountain feist squirrel dog, is standing on his short hind legs with his forepaws leaning against a tall white oak. He followed a gray squirrel’s scent line or he saw it scamper up the oak. Either way, he’s positive.
More frantic barks implore the hunters to hurry up. Ronnie Coffey and Jeff Cochran are armed with 20-gauge shotguns loaded with high-brass No. 6s and Knight with a very deadly .17 HMR bolt-action Savage. Coffey and Cochran handle the runners and jumpers, while Knight takes care of the bushytails that decide to hunker down.
Little Stubby continues to fidget around the tree as Cochran arrives and begins to shake a grapevine trailing down from the oak. The ensuing commotion in the leafless canopy causes the squirrel to scramble upward a few more feet. This squirrel’s gray coat plastered against the trunk isn’t easy to spot, but Knight finds it through his scope. Knight yells out that he sees it and draws a bead. The rifle cracks and the bushytail tumbles down through the branches.
Hunting Squirrels in the Winter
National critter-specific organizations have helped restore populations of everything from ducks to elk. But the first groups devoted to outdoor activity were hyper-local social clubs. (USFWS/)
Editor’s Note: This is the second of a four-part series on Hunting Editor Andrew McKean’s efforts to ditch the national conservation organization banquets and start a more effective local group in his hometown of Glasgow, Montana. | Read part one here.
In the first part of this series, I described how a number of us local volunteers arrived at the idea to step away from our service to national species-specific conservation and instead devote our time and energy to local needs around our hometown of Glasgow, Mont. Our plan was to do this through a new group called the Hi-Line Sportsmen.
The local conservation club is not a new idea. In fact, it’s an idea nearly as old as America’s citizen conservation movement.
The first groups devoted to the promotion of outdoor activity were hyper-local social clubs. Conservation of animals and their habitats was secondary to enjoyment of resources. But with the depletion of game in the early years of the 20th century, followed by the environmental reckoning of the Dust Bowl, America’s modern conservation movement took hold with the creation of the National Wildlife Federation. The national organization created affiliate chapters in thousands of towns around the country, and those local clubs built shooting ranges, organized outings to do things like build duck-nesting platforms and release pheasants, and—most importantly—lobby for the creation of state game agencies to protect and enhance the resources by applying scientific wildlife management principles.
It’s a helluva testament to the success of this model that we have the surplus of game animals that we currently enjoy. Sure, it’s easy to bash your local wildlife biologist or to gripe about your state agency’s bureaucracy, but we came close to not having any wild animals at all, or to having the ability as citizens to participate in the management of our wildlife.
Lesser Canada geese land in big numbers and can make for a quick shoot if you scout them right. (Joe Genzel/)
It’s pretty cut and dry: Hunting geese—big honkers, lesser Canadas, specklebellies, and even snows—is easier over water. It’s more familiar to them; they roost and loaf on the same ponds and lakes; and it’s a more relaxed/comfortable environment. Plus, there aren’t 10 hunters laying in the middle of the decoys or crouching in A-Frames in a hedgerow with their heads peeking out the top of the blind. But since there isn’t always an abundance of water for all of us to hunt, we have to go to the cut corn, beans, milo, etc., to get the job done. Water is typically more conducive to a quick, successful hunt, so we will give you the tools to fill straps there first and then move on to fields, which takes more ingenuity and oftentimes patience.
1. Roost Shoots
It’s a long-standing no-no to shoot the roost, but it’s the most successful way to consistently kill geese. The trick is sleeping in. Get there about 8 a.m., and wait for a majority of the birds to fly out to feed. If it’s an early-season resident Canada goose hunt and there are just 100 birds, let them all get off the water. With so few birds, you can’t afford to push any off (they probably won’t come back). When it’s January in Kansas and there are 10,000 lessers, snows, and specks on a few acres of water, let at least 90 percent of them leave before you go in and set the decoys.
For big honkers on small ponds, you don’t need to bring more than two-dozen floaters and another dozen field full-bodies to put on the bank. With large roosts of lessers, specks, and snows you want to deploy as many decoys as you need in order to land birds in shotgun range. When we hunt roosts of 10,000 birds or more with a large group of hunters, we set between 15- and 40-dozen floaters, plus another 10-dozen field decoys, and a truck bed full of silhouettes. It’s likely going to take more flocks to shoot limits, so it’s better to deploy the big rig because you want to emulate what the later birds returning from the feed are used to seeing. If it’s just three or four hunters, you don’t have to do all that work. Eight- to 10-dozen floaters with silhouettes on the shore should be enough since those first groups are used to coming back to the water and seeing few geese.
2. Traffic Hunts Over Water
A winter haul of blackfish from the New Jersey coast. (Joe Cermele / Field & Stream/)
We call it “scratching.” It’s a delicate nibbling of the bait, as if the fish is gently chipping away at the edges of a potato chip without ingesting the spud in one bite. It’s a green crab that’s being “scratched,” though, and in the ideal scenario, a scratch turns into a thump as the tautog—aka ’tog or blackfish—finally commits to inhaling the crustacean. But many times, that crab gets scratched right off the hook as if by magic. So, you start swinging on the scratch. And you just keep coming up empty. It can be insanely frustrating.
If you don’t live near the coast between Maine and North Carolina, there’s a good possibility you’ve never even heard of blackfish. They’re part of the wrasse family, and they live in hard structure, such as rocks, reefs, and wrecks. With a bulbous head and big, conical buckteeth, blackfish might not be the prettiest gamefish in the Atlantic, but they fight like demons, chew on the coldest days, and are one of the most delicious fish you can put on the table, thanks to their strict diet of clams, mussels, shrimp, and crabs. If you’re willing to give these weirdos a shot, the pointers below will help you secure a winter dinner you won’t forget.
Scratched Out
What’s actually happening when you feel a scratch is that the fish is sort of preparing your crab—or chunk of crab—for swallowing. It crunches the bait a few times, then inhales the mashed-up meal. The problem is that the process often works the bait right off the hook, so you’re waiting to feel a solid jolt, and it never comes. Though it takes some practice to dial in exactly when to swing, your skill will improve faster if you have good contact with the bait at all times. Typical blackfish rigs have the hook on a short dropper leader just inches above the weight because you want your bait lying directly on the rocks or wreck. In choppy conditions, however, the rocking of the boat can cause that rig to lift and lower. To counteract this and keep your rig as still as possible, move your rod tip up and down in rhythm with the swells, and pay out or take in line as needed to stay tight.
Quick Draw
Our parents are handing us the hunting baton at one of the most decisive moments in the sport. (Cana Outdoors/)
You know the doom and gloom: millions of hunters have been aging out of the sport over the last few decades. Those of us in our 20s, 30s, and 40s have a monumental task ahead. We have to recruit new hunters—lots of them—that are from diverse cultural backgrounds and urban areas. And, we have to keep them engaged in the sport, so their hunting careers last more than a single season. If we fail to do this, the money that funds wildlife agencies and conservation initiatives will most certainly dry up.
It’s a difficult task, though new bipartisan legislation (Pittman-Robertson Modernization Act) that allows excise taxes to now be used for R3 programs may help. However, more money doesn’t automatically equate to more hunters. All kinds of different people are coming into hunting (or at least considering it), and how they view killing animals is much different than that of traditional hunters. Hipsters, farm-to-table enthusiasts, and new adult hunters who live in urban areas also have opinions on where hunting should be headed. The newcomers and veteran hunters have to decide how to navigate those murky waters together.
How are we doing so far?
To find out, I talked to a bunch of the people—from various backgrounds and avenues into the hunting world—who are trying to make marked change in our sport. All these folks have found ways to show hunting in a positive light and they’re honest about how difficult it is. The main takeaway? We had better start listening to one another.
Hannah Kycek: We Need to Show the Real Side of Hunting
The Hi-Line Sportsmen was created with the mission of keeping conservation local. (John Hafner/)
Editor’s Note: This is the first of a four-part series on Hunting Editor Andrew McKean’s efforts to ditch the national conservation organization banquets and start a more effective local group in his hometown of Glasgow, Montana.
Five years ago, a dozen of us, sweating, hoarse, and a little buzzed following another successful National Wild Turkey Federation fundraising banquet, looked back on our accomplishments.
We had raised about $15,000 that night, money flowing in increments of $10 and $20 from our neighbors playing games of chance to win guns and wildlife art framed in China. For our hometown of Glasgow, Montana, population 3,300 people, that’s a lot of money, but that night in the St. Raphael’s Catholic Church gym wasn’t unique. Almost every year in the decade that we hosted a NWTF banquet, we Hi-Line Gobblers raked in thousands of dollars, almost all of it from people who had never hunted or even heard a wild turkey. The core group of us volunteers—plus an assortment of children, spouses, and itinerant friends—was damned good at fundraising. It helped that we had fun working together and seeing the fruit of a kick-ass banquet.
We also had fun promoting the missions of the National Wild Turkey Federation: hosting field days for kids, skill camps for women, helping state wildlife technicians trap and move turkeys from areas with surplus birds to areas like ours with anemic populations. Over the years, our work restored turkeys along the Milk River, sent kids to college, and perpetuated the holy trinity of critter conservation: access, habitat, and maintenance of a national political lobbyist. But we also recognized that part of the bargain was that most of the money we raised in our kick-ass banquets would go toward paying for our banquet art and guns and fund work of the NWTF elsewhere in the state and nation.
Year after year, though, that bargain felt less and less equitable, until our discontent bubbled to the surface that night 5 years ago.
A late-season hunter waits on a frosty Alberta buck. (Dustin Lutt / Rockhouse Motion/)
Hunting whitetails in extreme cold is a little like parenthood. Rewards might await, but you’ve got to expect plenty of discomfort along the way.
Maybe it’s not that bad (whether I’m talking about brutal cold or parenting, I’ll leave to your imagination), but hunting in arctic weather can certainly be an exercise in perseverance. It’s also a wealth of burgeoning opportunity. In recent years, as wildlife managers try to find more ways to control deer populations, particularly in areas where chronic wasting disease outbreak-response plans call for substantial population reductions, extended late-season opportunities have become more abundant.
During these bitter-end hunts, the conditions that cause whitetails to move along consistent travel routes with predictable frequency are the same ones that make waiting on them so difficult: extreme cold.
We’re not talking about your run-of-the-mill cold. We’re talking about conditions that make 30-degree days seem like spring. The type of cold that freezes the snot in your nose and ices facial hair. Hunting in these circumstances requires special gear, special tactics, and a special frame of mind.
Double Wind-Stopping Layers
The key to choosing the right caliber for African plains game? Choose precision bullet placement first, bullet construction for desired terminal performance second, and on-target energy last. (Ron Spomer/)
You can hunt all southern Africa’s plains game species with one rifle if it’s chambered for the right cartridge. And that cartridge doesn’t have to be a big hairy magnum.
This means you can leave the .505 Gibbs, the .458 Lott, the .416 Rigby and even the .375 H&H Magnum on the dealer’s shelf. But dust off your deer rifle because it could be all you need.
The simple truth is that ordinary “deer” cartridges in the hands of ordinary hunters work to terminate ordinary African game. African farmers, ranchers and sportsmen have been hunting native impala, oryx, blesbok, warthogs, kudu, wildebeest, waterbuck, and all the rest (even buffalo, lion, and elephant) with medium caliber, medium power cartridges for more than a century. We’d consider many of them perfect for whitetails, mule deer, caribou, elk, and moose. Like most pragmatic country folk, Africans make do with inexpensive rifles shooting inexpensive, commonly available ammunition in average cartridges such as .303 British, .30-06 Springfield, and 7x57mm Mauser. Which strongly suggests we visitors might succeed in Africa with our own deer and elk rifles.
Read Next: 10 Life-Changing Lessons I Learned From My First Africa Safari
So let’s compare three common cartridges many judge suitable for African plains game: the .308 Winchester, .300 Winchester Magnum, and .338 Winchester Magnum.
Wolves were reintroduced to Yellowstone National Park in 1995. Now Colorado voters will decide on if they are reintroduced to their state. (National Park Service/)
Sometimes, while people bicker about politics, Mother Nature does her own thing. That seems to be occurring in Colorado when it comes to wolves.
On Election Day, Colorado voters will be asked to consider a ballot initiate directing Colorado Parks and Wildlife to import wolves from the north and turn them loose by 2023.
But true to form, the wolves have thrown a curve ball. This month, CPW announced that biologists believe wolves are already setting up housekeeping in the northwest part of the state. In essence, the wolves voted with their paws before humans have a chance to vote on the topic.
Either way, Colorado is poised to become the next “wolf state.” One looming questions is, how much bad blood will be created by ballot-box wildlife management?
Perhaps no other animal in North America elicits the passions and polarization as the wolf, especially among some hunters who often consider wolves competition for deer and elk and ranchers who hate to see their sheep and cattle killed.
The Archery Trade Association is jammed to the rafters with new bows, arrows, sights, treestands, calls, packs, and clothing... if it’s used for bowhunting, it’s there. But there is only one category of product that actually kills the critters we chase, and that’s the broadhead. Broadheads are devilishly simple tools but, each and every year, product designers find new and novel ways to get the job done. Here’s a look at some of 2020’s notable new models.
G5 STRIKER-X
If you just can’t get by with three blades, G5 has a solution in its 4-blade model, which is a first for the company. The Striker-X is a 4-blade version of the popular Striker and boasts a 1.25-inch-cut and is available in both 100- and 125-grain models with crossbow versions coming as well. The LUTZ blades are replaceable and the ferrule is fully machined.
RAGE X-TREME NC
Rage unveiled its first collar-free models last year and the logical follow-up to that was a no-collar version of its highly popular X-Treme model, named for its ultra-wide 2.3-inch cutting width. The X-Treme is available with either a cut-on contact or chisel tip setup, each option weighing 100 grains. A 3-pack will sell for around $45.
For the past five years or so, crossbow popularity has soared as their inclusion in standard bowhunting seasons have spread across the country. The 2020 Archery Trade Association show seemed to adhere to that trend, with plenty of new crossbow introductions, many of which are showing varied and handier limb configurations (with a corresponding jump in price). Here’s a rundown of this year’s new crossbow offerings.
RAVIN R29X
At first glance, this year’s Ravin looks an awful lot like last year’s Ravin. And it should. It has the same HeliCoil cam system that turned the crossbow world on its ear a couple years back. It has the same fore-end grip system (which is really, really good) and the same stock system.
What’s new? The revamped cocking system is silent. It’s still super easy to use, Ravin has just eliminated the tell-tale click-click-click that signaled the bow was being cocked.
The R29X measures 29 inches in length, which means it’s still plenty handy, but a little longer than last year’s ultra-compact 26-inch R26. It has a 12.5-inch powerstroke which launches 400-grain arrows at an impressive 450 fps. It’s priced at $2,650. There’s also an R29 that’s $300 cheaper with a speed rating of 430 fps.
