Editor’s Note: This story was originally published in the June 1953 issue of Outdoor Life and it reflects the language and stereotypes of the times.

A COLD OCTOBER drizzle was soaking the Ontario bush when the old Ojibway Indian and his wife beached their canoe below our tent. They had a little boy with them, sort of wedged in the bow ahead of the woman, and he was yelling bloody murder. 

They looked too old to be his parents, and the man explained that, jerking a finger at the toddler and grunting, “Mamma dead.” 

After we welcomed them with cigarettes, the woman held the boy up and pointed to his mouth. “Hurt,” she said. And he wailed at the top of his voice. 

Neither my partner, K. K. (Knick) Knickerbocker, nor I is a medicine man, but we got the idea. The poor little cuss was teething, and they’d come to our camp hoping we could do something for him. I rummaged in my gear for the best remedy we had, a bottle of aspirin. We didn’t dare give them the whole bottle for fear they’d feed them all to the kid. So I shook out a dozen tablets, broke each in half, then pointed to the face of my watch and held up half a tablet for each hour. 

They were tickled pink. The woman poked the first dose into the boy without ceremony. He went right on crying, but they paid no attention to him. 

They came up to our tent and the man’s eyes fell on our two 70-pound-pull hunting bows and the arrows. Curious as a kid with a bulging Christmas stocking, he tested the razor-sharp edge of the four-bladed arrowheads, tried the pull of my bow. Then, after looking in vain for firearms, he grinned at me, and said, “Moose big. String-gun too little.”

KNICK AND I were still chuckling about it long after the Indians paddled away. 

“Honest Indian,” Knick said. 

But we didn’t share all the old man’s doubts. I started hunting big game with a bow in 1935, and I’ve never carried a gun since. Knick’s also an experienced archer, and he’d come all the way from Virginia to match his bow with a moose. Up to the time of our moose hunt, I’d killed nothing bigger than deer (though I’ve added moose, bear, antelope, and elk to my list since) and neither had Knick. Still we both felt our bows would stop a moose. Other archers had proved that. 

The Indian wasn’t the first to rate us underequipped for moose hunting. We’d had difficulty finding outfitters and guides willing to handle us, once they learned we intended to use bows rather than guns. 

One outfitter bluntly canceled our reservations. Another said he was booked full. 

We didn’t blame them. Surprisingly few know much about the killing power of hunting bows. And since big-game guides live largely by the success of their parties, it’s only natural that most shy away from archers. Guns get more game. 

It wasn’t until Knick and I contacted Archie McDonald in Quibell that we were able to arrange for a moose hunt in Ontario. And I confess we’d been in Archie’s main camp on Cliff Lake two days before we let it be known we were gunless. By that time it was too late to pack us out. 

For guides we drew Bill Humphries an Victor MacQueen, an Englishman and a Scot respectively, and they were good sports about the thing. We were to hunt in an area where they trap beavers in winter. They assured us there were plenty of moose there, and if we were willing to take chances on bows it was O.K. with them. 

So the four of us set out for Cedar River, the outlet of Lake Wabaskang, 100 miles north of International Falls. We worked through a chain of lakes—Twilight, Evening, Mystery, Cliff, Cedar, Perrault—traveling in two canoes with five-horsepower outboards, and portaging over rocky trails. Cold rain fell in an endless drizzle, broken only by harder squalls. We were wind-bound on Cliff Lake, on Cedar, and again at the lower end of Wabaskang. 

We made camp late one afternoon, dried our clothes and bags, and let a good fire drive the chill from our bones. By morning the rain stopped, and the world began to look like a fit place to live. 

It became a wonderful world when we took our casting rods down to the Cedar and flipped our spoons at the foot of a low waterfall. We caught wall-eyes and northern pike as fast as we could take ’em off the hooks. The pike ran 10 to 12 pounds apiece. In 30 minutes I landed three that totaled 40 pounds. We hung a few in trees around camp for bear bait. We put back the ones we caught after that; it was wall-eyes we wanted for eating, and the river swarmed with them. 

Yet we found the best fishing of all at Wine Lake, a few miles down the Cedar from Wabaskang. Lake trout from three to 12 pounds had come up in the shoals to spawn, and they pounced on our lures the way a leopard goes after a goat. Now and then we hooked lunkers that wouldn’t be handled on our medium-weight casting rods. We broke lines and smashed tips on some I bet weighed over 25 pounds. We kept no lakers, still preferring wall-eyes at camp, but we caught them at the rate of 10 or 12 an hour anytime we fished. 

It was raining again the second morning, but Knick and I had come a long way to kill a moose and we didn’t have all fall to do it. So after breakfast we climbed into the two canoes and headed downriver. 

Knick and Bill turned off where Wine Lake has its outlet in the Cedar, but Vic and I kept on another three or four miles. Then we went up a small creek and into a little unnamed lake that Vic said was a moose hangout. By that time the wind was blowing a gale and the cold rain had us drenched to the skin. We went ashore, got a fire going, and huddled over it until our teeth stopped chattering. Then we went moose hunting. 

Wet weather gives an archer one great advantage over the prey. He can move without noise, which he must do to get close enough to score with an arrow. Vic and I traveled slowly, combing every open place ahead. Eventually we spotted a sleek whitetail buck, a six-pointer, coming toward us. I picked an opening ahead of him in the brush and lined an arrow on it. When he walked into it I let go. It should have been an easy shot, since his neck and part of his shoulder were in sight at about 30 yards, but there was too much thick stuff in the way. Or maybe it was my fault. My fingertips were numb with cold by that time, and I didn’t get off a good release. 

I heard the arrow thud into something solid and saw the deer whirl and run. I found the arrow, bedded in a young pine, three paces short of where he’d stood. It had brushed a twig, glanced off, and whacked into the tree. “I got a name for this place.” I told Vic. “Let’s call it Arrow Lake.” 

He grinned, but it was a feeble performance, and I could see he was biting his tongue to hold back some remark on my performance. 

It helped when I missed another shot at a bigger buck late that afternoon. I shot high, and again I blamed my cold fingers. But I knew better than to alibi to Vic. We saw seven deer that day, including three bucks, and I could have killed all three with a rifle. By the time we got back to camp I realized that any fragment of faith Vic and Bill may have had in archery was as good as gone. At supper the guides exchanged significant glances across the fire and acted like a couple of guys who have picked a lame horse. 

THE WEATHER broke two days later, and we saw stars overhead and pink in the morning sky for the first time since the hunt began. We hurried through breakfast and were on our way before sunrise, running, the canoes through a winding canyon of gold and scarlet foilage. We hadn’t realized how far autumn had advanced. Ducks got up in front of us, and an eagle soared lazily overhead. 

We separated once again, agreeing to meet for lunch. Vic and I saw two cow moose that forenoon, but nothing with antlers. Knick and Bill stalked a good buck but couldn’t get within range. 

At noon we met in a cove formed by a big point that thrust half a mile out into the lake. We were finishing the last of our grub when a series of low, whimpering grunts rolled across the water to us. Bill lifted a warning hand. We listened until it was repeated. 

“Cow, calling,” Vic said softly. “She may have a bull with her.” 

We got up noiselessly and laid our plans in a hurry. The point was connected to the main shore by a neck of land about 200 yards wide and timbered with open stuff. Knick and I would have a chance for shooting there. The guides would drive, starting at the far end of the point, and if there was a bull with the lovelorn cow he’d have to come past us to get ashore. 

Knick and I picked our stands and Bill and Vic shoved off in one of the canoes. Ten minutes later a cow moose come out of the willows 300 yards away, splashed through the shallows, and struck out across the cove. When nothing else showed up in three or four minutes I relaxed. Then I heard a heavy animal coming through the brush in a hurry and headed almost at me. I caught a glimpse of brown, too light for a moose, and an eight-point buck came busting out of the adlers. He was spooked, and going places, but I had him in the open and I knew he was my buck. 

He went past me at 15 yards, running in long, reaching bounds. I shot when he was broadside. The arrow made a good solid hit, but I saw that I’d failed to lead him enough. I’d aimed for the rib section but the arrow had flashed into his flank. 

I found out later the shot would have killed him anyway, likely within 100 yards. The four-bladed head had severed big arteries and was bedded against the hip bone. But I didn’t know that at the time. 

The only apparent effect of the shot was to slow him down. His long jumps changed to short, high hops. I sent another arrow after him before he’d gone 20 yards. It sailed over his back, a clean miss. 

He was going straight away from me, 40 yards off, when I loosed a third arrow. That sounds like fast shooting with a bow but my average time between shots is five seconds, and the buck lost a lot of his speed as a result of my first shot. 

I took a little more time with that third shot. It struck him in the back of the neck, just below the head, and he went down like a dishrag. When we dressed him we discovered the arrow had gone through the first vertebra behind the skull and had driven deep into the brain. No bullet ever killed a deer quicker. 

Bill and Vic came out of the brush in a few minutes, plainly disappointed and disgusted. They’d heard no shooting, of course, and I realized it hadn’t even occurred to them there could be a kill without gunfire. 

“See anything?” Vic asked with patient resignation. 

“Saw a cow moose and a buck,” I replied. “The moose swam the cove.”

“What happened to the deer?” 

“He went right through here,” I said, pointing. 

I let them take the lead, and they almost fell over the dead buck. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Vic muttered. Bill added, “No shooting or nothing.” It wasn’t lavish praise, but the way they said it made it about the biggest compliment I’d ever had on a hunting trip. 

Back at camp that night, however, I could see the two weren’t convinced that a bow was proper moose medicine. They’d witnessed a trial demonstration and were inclined to give me more credit than I deserved, but there’s a difference of something like 800 pounds between a moose and a deer, and to their way of thinking, killing a moose would require a far more lethal weapon. 

Knick and I voted to try the Arrow Lake country next morning. We’d seen plenty of moose sign there and also a couple of cows. It looked like a good bet. 

Knick and Bill left camp first but they loitered on the way down the Cedar, scouting for tracks, and Vic and I passed them. But five minutes after we paddled into the little lake they came out of the creek behind us—just in time for the show. 

Right then, with both canoes in plain sight, a moose showed up at the edge of the alders across the lake. We saw his antlers first, over the top of the brush, and then he waded into the water. I had my glasses on him before he took three steps. He was a big bull with a fine head. 

WHY HE DIDN’T spot us, I still don’t know. While our canoes were fairly close to shore and he was almost half a mile away, we had no cover. I didn’t think there was a chance we could cross to his side of the open lake unseen. But we had to try. 

Vic and I crouched low and drove our canoe with hard, noiseless strokes. Knick and Bill were close behind as we rounded the end of the lake. A brushy point now hid us from the moose, so Vic turned the canoe toward shore. I was out of it and into the alders before its bottom touched land. 

When I’d last seen the bull he was coming down the lake in our direction, walking slowly in shallow water about 25 yards offshore. There was a strong wind, blowing in my favor and making enough noise in the undergrowth to cover my movements. A few yards back in the brush I found a game trail running parallel to shore, and I followed it until I figured I was halfway to the moose. Then I took a branch trail down to the water. 

Unable to see more than a few yards along shore, I crouched at the edge of the alders and waited. Nothing happened for a minute or two, and I was sure the bull had heard me and turned back. But I squatted there patiently and listened. 

Then I heard him, splashing and grunting. Another five seconds and I caught sight of him through a hole in the bushes, 75 yards off. 

For an instant I was as near to buck fever as I’ve ever been. He looked as big as a boxcar, and I recalled what the Indian had said about my string-gun. Suppose he was right? That was a lot of moose bearing down on me. I wondered what he’d do when my arrow drove into him. Would he come crashing for shore and pound me to a pulp with his big hoofs? 

Then I took another look, sizing up his black bulk and his broad antlers, that shone like polished mahogany. They’d go 48 inches or better. I thought of Knick, Bill, and Vic back on the point, watching from the brush, waiting for my shot. 

My bow was up to it. Was I? 

IF THE MOOSE kept his course he’d pass in front of me about 20 yards away. I could take all the time I wanted, and at that range I could hardly miss. 

I found another opening in the brush and settled myself on one knee. I could no longer see him but I could hear him coming. Then his neck and shoulders filled the opening. I brought the bowstring back to full draw and heard the sharp, satisfying twang as the arrow left it. And I was on target. The feathers of the arrow suddenly sprouted out from the center of the bull’s rib section. 

“That ought to fix him,” I murmured to myself. 

The moose flinched and stiffened. For an instant he froze in his tracks. Then he whirled and lunged toward deeper water. But he made only three jumps before he stopped broadside to me. 

I had a second arrow on the string when he humped his back, stretched out his neck, and blew a red gush from both nostrils. I eased off my draw then, knowing he was done for. He turned toward shore, but his legs buckled and he went down. One arrow killed him before he’d moved twice his own length from the place where he stood when it hit him. 

We got ropes on him and towed him ashore. When we dressed him we found that my arrow had entered between two ribs, sliced through the lungs, cut off big blood vessels, and stopped when the head sheared off a rib on the opposite side. The moose was dead a minute after he was shot. That’s how a hunting arrow is supposed to kill. 

The Indian and his wife and the little boy turned up at camp about noon next day. Maybe they smelled meat. Anyway, they heard of our luck—perhaps via the moccasin telegraph. The kid was quiet, but both he and the old ones looked hungry. 

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We had two moose tenderloins hanging in front of our tent. I took one down and gave it to the old fellow. He grinned from ear to ear, and the woman started to paw through the duffel piled under a tarp in the middle of their canoe. She came up with a faded sugar bag full of wild rice, and handed it to us. When they were making ready to leave the man saw my bow propped against a tree. He looked from it to the moose quarters hanging near by. “String-gun plenty big!” he grunted. 

It was Bill, the once-skeptical guide, who whooped a hearty “I’ll tell the world” back at him. Across the fire that night Vic put an interesting question to me. “How much would it cost me,” he asked, “to get a bow like yours?”

Read more OL+ stories.

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Among the many highly successful hunters I know, one thing they all have in common is great hunting instincts. Yes, they also have sharp skills and deep knowledge, but more importantly, they can recognize an opportunity and seize it without hesitation.

They have an ability to anticipate what’s going to happen, and they’re able to react without over-analyzation. Often, this results in meat in their freezer when others would go home empty-handed.

The good news here is that we can all sharpen our hunting instincts, however, this is no easy task.

Watching Instincts Develop

Hunting instincts play a role in a variety of different ways, but shooting scenarios are the most obvious. Watching the development of my oldest son, who I’ve taken grouse hunting since he was three years old, has taught me a lot about a hunter’s instinct. I started him on a Savage Rascal .22, and he first learned to shoot with a red dot scope.

He’s progressed to become proficient with iron sights and magnified optics, but his grouse gun is still that little .22. He often accompanies me to the shooting range and will constantly pepper my 100-yard targets with .22 holes. He thinks it’s a gas. As staple of boyhood, he got his first Red Ryder this past spring, and we set up a backyard range for him, where he tears through bottles of BB’s ventilating aluminum cans suspended by strings. But this is more than just fun and games, he’s learning every time we shoot.

My son has always been a quick learner, and now he’s becoming a crack shot before my eyes. He’s been shooting red squirrels with his small hand-me-down compound bow since he was five. A few days ago, we followed a pair of grouse into a black spruce thicket, and when I could see a bird ducking and bobbing his way toward a tiny window through the tangled mess of dry, gray limbs and alder branches, I set the tripod we use and pointed his rifle toward the opening.

He quickly got behind the rifle and had only a couple seconds before the bird walked into the opening. Bang! The grouse dropped. We continued, and he got another one in the same manner. It was our first grouse hunt in a while, and the first time I’ve seen him shoot with such decisiveness. These weren’t lucky shots made in haste; they were intentional and accurate. He prepared quickly and took his opportunities as soon as they appeared.

We Aren’t Born with Hunter’s Instincts

I’d love to believe that the secret to being a great shot on wild game is simply flowing within the Freel family bloodline. And it’s nice to think that we all have hunting instincts and skills hardcoded into our DNA from ancient ancestors who chased down wooly mammoths with bows and spears.

But, unfortunately, that’s not how it works in the real world. Of course, some people have natural abilities (like keen vision or good hand-eye-coordination) that help them become better hunters, but a true hunter’s instinct isn’t something you’re born with. Hunting instinct is cultured and learned.

I’ve been crazy about hunting for as long as I can remember, but that didn’t mean I was always good at it. When I was 12 years old, my dad and I started calling coyotes together. I loved it, but I don’t remember killing a single coyote that first winter. Over several years, we got better, learning from each coyote we called in. We learned to predict what they were likely to do, we learned when to shoot and when to wait. As our experience and skills grew, so did our instinct for it.

We had to see a lot of hunts play out and we also mess up on a lot of coyotes before we really had the right instincts. All those experiences informed future hunts.

You Can’t Buy Instinct

Shooting animals ethically, effectively, and decisively, is a learned skill. That skill can’t be bought, and neither can good shooting instincts.

In the materialistic and hyper-marketed world, we live in, it’s easy to fall for the notion that you can buy yourself better results with better gear. While accurate rifles, quality ammunition, and precise optics do provide tangible benefits, they don’t mean shit if you don’t know how to use them. Competency takes lots of practice, and yes, some failure, too.

Based on the nature of many posts and conversations I’ve seen, I’d say it’s easy for many new hunters to be paralyzed by indecisiveness—afraid to just go, try, and even fail on their own. Many want to be told everything from where to go to which type of bootlaces they need to be using. The best advice is to simply get out there and learn as you go.

Likewise, even many experienced hunters put too much emphasis on gear and not enough emphasis on time in the field.

How to Develop a Hunter’s Instinct

The best route for developing a deadly and efficient hunting instinct is, quite simply, to spend a lot of time hunting. To get good at recognizing shot opportunities and to capitalize on them, you need to get many of animals in front of you. And to do that, you’ve got to spend serious time in the woods.

But range time matters too. I started my son out with a red dot scope because it made for one less complication to the shooting process, and he could see success and improvement. It made shooting fun. With thousands of repetitions, he’s become comfortable, quick, and decisive in his shooting. When starting with iron sights this summer on his BB gun, he was frustrated and shaky, shooting off a bench. Now he can make those tin cans dance shooting offhand better than Chuck Connors. That snappy decisiveness translates to hunting.

Experienced hunters can sharpen their instinct by practicing with a shot process. This means executing the exact same steps in the same order before every shot (this gets written about a lot in archery, but it’s important for any type of shooting). Drilling a shot process might seem counter intuitive at first, because the whole point of going on instinct is to not think about it, right? That’s true, but first you’ve got to build solid fundamentals. By practicing with a shot process, you drill those fundamentals into your subconscious. Soon, you won’t be thinking about the steps in the process, you’ll do them automatically. When a shot opportunity presents itself on a hunt, you’ll shoot the exact same way you do in practice.

It’s amazing to watch son develop his skills and hunter’s instinct. But it’s important to remember that the focus of any hunt should never be only on killing something. After all, you’ll learn more from missed opportunities than successful ones. I know I must be patient and have him only take good opportunities and ethical shots, but more and more he’s recognizing those opportunities on his own.

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“Big tracks don’t always mean big racks, but big racks always mean big tracks.” —Old deer hunter saying

“I’VE NEVER YET shot a big buck that didn’t have a big track. So a big track is key. You find a big track, and now you’re getting someplace.”

I listen closely to Michael Hirschi, even as my eyes wander incredulously across the handful of 200-plus Boone and Crockett mule deer mounted on the walls around him.

We sit in his office, which doubles as the master bedroom of his Utah home. There are a half dozen monster bucks on these walls and more on almost every wall in the house. And more still in the shop outside. Most serious mule deer hunters will spend a lifetime to catch perhaps one glimpse of a buck like these. One hunter in 10,000 might actually kill one. Once I asked Michael how many 190-plus bucks he’d taken. He thought a moment before replying, “More than 20.”

Michael and I have been friends for years. Yet awe still washes over me every time I see his collection of once-in-a-lifetime bucks. I’ve lived my life in some of the best big-buck habitat on Earth, and I’ve personally killed some big mule deer. I know many talented deer hunters, but Hirschi is different: He has a gift. His time to hunt is limited, but he’s the most dedicated hunter I know. He doesn’t own or pay to hunt private land. Despite all that—or perhaps in part because of it—he is, I believe, the finest big-buck mule deer hunter alive.

“I’ll keep looking, checking another area, and another, until I find a big track,” he adds. “And then I’ll key in on that area.”

I pry my eyes from those massive antlers and study my friend. He’s slightly above average in height and powerfully built, and he sports the small potbelly typical of athletic men in their 50s. He’s a good guy: generous, kind, and humble, and willing to help his friends and family who hunt. But you won’t find him talking hunting at the local convenience store. For him to tell you about his hunting spots requires years of unbroken trust. Monster mule deer are his passion, and he’s always thinking about where he might find the next one.

“We’ll be riding the four-wheeler down some remote desert two-track, flying along, me snuggled up and thinking we’re having this romantic ride together,” says Hirschi’s wife, Kristine. “Suddenly he’ll lock the tires up and we’ll skid to a halt in a cloud of dust. ‘I saw a deer track,’ he’ll say, and throw it in reverse. That’s how he is. Always focused.”

Focused is the only word for him. Hirschi hunts areas with such low deer densities that he’s gone up to six days in a row without sighting a single deer. Not many people have the mental fortitude to endure that kind of punishment. But it doesn’t faze Hirschi. Because on the seventh day, he just might spot his next monster buck.

Big Tracks in Big Country

So what is a large track exactly? This varies from deer to deer, explains Hirschi. A buck that lives in a rocky region will have shorter feet than a buck that spends his time in sand or grass. Anything more than 3 inches long is worthy of a second look, and a track in the 3⅜-to-3¾-inch range will usually come from a truly big, old deer. The track must be wide as well as long, which will give it a blocky shape—like something heavy made it. A big buck’s tracks will be wider apart than tracks left by a young buck, denoting broad shoulders and a thick, mature physique.

Once he locates a track big enough to pique his interest, Hirschi carefully considers his next move.

“I’m gonna ask myself, ‘Where does that track sit on the map to water, bedding, and feed? What is a deer going to do in that location?’” Hirschi says. “‘Where is he watering, and how often?’ Deer are habitual, and they will use a particular area more than others.”

Locating a big mule deer track and following it for miles across the desert sand, finally jumping the buck for a shot, is a vanishing and honored skill among mule deer hunters. Very few can accomplish it.

“An old hunter told me the story of this giant deer he killed,” Hirschi says. “He tracked it three days, slept on the track. Wherever night found him he’d just sleep right there. On the third day he caught up with the buck. He jumped the buck a bunch of times in between, but finally got the opportunity for a good shot.”

Hirschi explains that most bucks will usually circle back to the same place where you jumped them. If a hunter is smart, he can figure out the buck’s pattern before that happens—and use it to his advantage.

“There are the high bedders. They like to bed where they can see stuff. If you’re going down a track and you’re good with your field glasses, you can spot him there, underneath that tree or tucked under that ridge, watching you come. He’ll wait for the right moment to slip away.”

High bedders are the easier deer to hunt. Then you get the low bedders.

“Those are the tough suckers. A low bedder will lie down in the bottom of a wash, up against a cut bank, and you’ll never see him. If something comes up the wash, boom! he’ll blow up over the edge and run like the dickens. And he can run better than I can shoot, no question.”

So Hirschi will track a little way, then circle to try to spot the buck. If you don’t see him, relocate the track, get an idea of where he’s going, and loop again. Making that loop is important, especially if you are working alone.

That’s how Hirschi killed his first giant buck, at the age of 17. He jumped a big deer, followed the sign until he had an idea of his direction of travel, and then made a loop. As he eased in to his original position to reacquire the track, he spotted the buck. The mule deer was watching his backtrail and didn’t expect danger to come from the side.

A Master’s Plan

Any other hunter would want every advantage in his favor when pursuing a world-class buck. But about two decades ago, Hirschi made a decision to hunt only with a bow. He had become confident that if he could find a deer while rifle hunting, he could kill it. That didn’t sit right with him. But even with a bow, he remains improbably effective. Some big bucks do elude him for an entire season, and he never lays eyes on them. This simply fuels his fire. It means he has a deer to scout and hunt the next year. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once Hirschi does locate a big buck, he uses every tool at his disposal to get to know that deer. He’ll study satellite imagery, set trail cameras, follow tracks, and glass from a distance.

When hunting season arrives, he will search for the buck with almost indomitable will until he finds it. This can sometimes take days; the territory Hirschi hunts is vast, and these bucks can and do cover miles each day.

Most often Hirschi will follow a track only until it enters an area he can glass. That’s when he stops hiking and finds a vantage point from which to study the area with his binocular. He believes it is critical to glass several hours from a single position. It may take that long for a deer to move or for the shadows to change so that a deer becomes visible.

If, after several hours of studying an area through his tripod-mounted binocular, he doesn’t spot the buck, he will relocate and start over, glassing the area from a different perspective. Hirschi often goes days, weeks, or even years without finding a buck he’s hunting. The country is vast, and the deer density very low.

When he does find the buck, he’ll watch till it moves into a huntable position. Then he stalks in for a shot. Once in bow range, Hirschi doesn’t believe in trying to make a buck stand by tossing a pebble, or doing anything at all to draw its attention.

“When a buck gets that mature and old, he doesn’t make many mistakes,” he says. “More often than not, he will blow out and never give you a shot. So I just wait.”

I think about what that wait would be like, expecting a shot at a world-class buck any second for hours on end. Those moments are few and far between, says Hirschi, which means he never gets drowsy or lets his mind drift from the task at hand.

“I’m very alert, and there’s enough adrenaline flowing to keep me in focus. Wind is my main focus; I have to pay really close attention, so if the wind swirls or something changes, I can adjust. One moment nothing at all is happening. And one or two seconds later, I might need to make a shot.”

Big-Buck Country

Early that morning, we loaded into Hirschi’s pickup and drove into God’s country, the beautifully barren territory he hunts. We were there, ostensibly, to hunt coyotes. I think we both knew, though, that our main purpose was to connect with one of the places he loves best.

I’ve never been here, where Hirschi has spent countless days. Still, this place is important to both of us. To me, it’s a shrine of sorts. You can’t understand how incredibly difficult it is to hunt this country until you’ve been here.

My friend shows me how the bucks like to move and where they prefer to feed at certain times of year. He points out places he’s given names of his own. Each is enchanting: the Pasture, Heaven, the Gold Coast, Paradise, and Hope Town. They are names no one else would ever recognize. Which is important, because Mike Hirschi kills almost all his bucks on general-season, public-land units.

In his home state of Utah, private hunting land is rare, so hunters must compete with hordes of other public-land hunters. The hunting is tough, and most people will shoot the first buck they see. This makes it hard for a buck to reach maturity.

Further exacerbating the challenge of hunting public lands is the fact that tags are becoming increasingly hard to get. So any hunter who routinely tags monster bucks on public land is regarded as something of a superhero, a status that Hirschi never sought but possesses nonetheless.

Some hunters admire Hirschi’s accomplishments without jealousy. Other “hunters” try to shadow him—to find his secret spots—and beat him to the big bucks he’s hunting. So Hirschi is cautious about who he speaks with and what information he shares. He’s learned that lesson the hard way; several of his top spots have been spoiled by unscrupulous hunters who have betrayed his confidences.

The Legend of Clusty

We hunt coyotes, talk about deer, and finally end up back at the Hirschi place. My eyes drift again to one of the mounts behind him, a buck with otherworldly mass and towering antlers that stands at number 11 typical all time in the Pope and Young record books. Hirschi believes that had he managed to kill the buck one year sooner it might have been number one in the world, because that year his G2 and G3 tines would have forked much lower and measured significantly longer.

I wonder how a buck that big could possibly be any bigger. I also wonder if I could hold it together for a shot at one of these monster bucks, especially after investing years of scouting, days of glassing, miles of stalking, and hours of waiting inside bow range. Praying the wind doesn’t swirl. Hoping the buck stands from his bed. Anticipating a shot before darkness falls.

I’ve heard the stories. While hunting another of his bucks, Hirschi stalked within bow range of a group of bedded deer and waited the afternoon away. When the breeze veered, he backed out, then stalked carefully back into bow range, the wind again in his favor. The wind changed a second time, and again he retreated and repeated his stalk from downwind. Like a ghost, he sneaked into bow range a third time, and the group of bucks still hadn’t a clue. When they started to rise and stretch, he watched a buck feed past. The mule deer’s antlers were more than 30 inches wide and would score over 200 inches. Hirschi never drew. He was waiting for an even bigger buck that he knew was among them. Minutes later, he killed a 33¾-inch-wide typical-framed monster that gross green-scored 213 inches in velvet.

But the story I most want to hear is about the biggest buck that Hirschi ever hunted—one that’s not on his wall. A shadow crosses his face and, briefly, he tells me about Clusty.

Clusty, so named for the massive clusters of tines reaching skyward from each antler, lived early in Hirschi’s bowhunting career. He watched Clusty one summer and hunted him hard that fall without success. He saw the buck only one time the following year. Then Clusty disappeared. As far as Hirschi knows, no one ever killed him. He’s quiet, studying the floor.

“How big do you think Clusty was?”

Hirschi responds without hesitation. “At least 250.”

“TWO FIFTY!” The words burst from my mouth.

“Yeah,” Hirschi says. “At least.”

I can see why Clusty’s memory haunts him. Most hunters who tell you they have seen a 250-inch mule deer have just perjured themselves. Not Michael Hirschi. If he says a buck was 250, it was 250. Or bigger.

Divine Intervention

Still, there is something surreal about Hirschi’s ability to find and harvest bucks that are so incredibly above the norm. There’s no doubt that he works hard for this extraordinary success. But I want to know how he thinks about those accomplishments. So I ask him to what he attributes his extraordinary success at finding and harvesting monster deer.

His eyes grow bright as he sits at his desk, a collage of trail-cam photos still open on his desktop and perhaps 640 inches of bone spreading regally above the three shoulder mounts over his head.

“I believe that when God asked us to do specific things, he meant it. I’ve always tried to help or teach friends or kids who want to learn to hunt, whenever I get a chance. We are told that when we serve our fellow man we are in the service of our God. I do my best to fulfill that commandment.”

Hirschi leans back in his chair, his voice gravelly with emotion.

“We’ve also been commanded to set our own affairs aside and do God’s work on the Sabbath. I take that to heart, and I’ve committed to my heavenly Father that I will not follow my passion on his day. I’ve asked him to bless me in return.”

I lean back in my own chair. Hirschi works five days a week and has limited time off. Fifty percent of his weekend is a high price to pay. I suppose the agnostic perspective would be that Hirschi is simply a naturally gifted hunter who lives in trophy mule deer country. And if he hunted Sundays, he’d probably have even a few more bucks on his wall.

But then I really study the walls surrounding me, looking once more at the huge deer mounted there. I think back to the time Hirschi helped my oldest daughter harvest her own 208-inch buck. Then I look back at my friend, and remember everything that he has just shared with me. Some faith, it seems, should not be questioned.

—

Gear Hirschi Won’t Hunt Without

I asked Hirschi if there is anything he won’t go hunting without. He smirked and informed me that he doesn’t like to go without a bow or rifle. We had a good chuckle and then got down to business. Here’s the gear that Hirschi depends on every time he goes afield.

• BOW: PSE Full Throttle, with a draw weight of 60 pounds. His advice? “Use whatever bow you can shoot accurately and consistently. Shot placement is more important than poundage.”
• REST: Whisker Biscuit. Despite derision that it’s a beginner’s rest, Hirschi believes the Whisker Biscuit to be “the best bowhunting rest ever developed” because it’s bulletproof and quiet, and it keeps the arrow secure during stalking and waiting.
• SIGHT: Black Gold Ascent Custom Adjustable seven pin. Hirschi sets his pins at 10-yard intervals beginning at 20 yards and ending at 80. Then he relies on the adjustable feature on his sight to dial for even longer shots. Under ideal conditions, Hirschi is lethal to 100 yards with this setup.
• ARROWS: Victory VF TKO, 300 spine, cut at 29 inches.
• BROADHEAD: Grim Reaper 100-grain 1⅜-inch Razor Tip. Hirschi has used these broadheads since 2008 and has complete confidence in them.
• OPTICS: Along with a Leupold rangefinder and a sturdy tripod, Hirschi relies on a Swarovski 15×56 binocular with a tripod adapter and a Swarovski 20–60×80 spotting scope.
• OTHER GEAR: Leatherman multitool. Hirschi carries a 4-inch model and uses it constantly to measure deer tracks, repair gear, cut with the blade, or trim limbs with the saw. —A.v.B.

This story originally ran in the Diehards issue of Outdoor Life. Read more OL+ stories.

How to Listen to Season 3 of the Outdoor Life Podcast

• Listen to Season 3, available now, on Spotify, Apple, or wherever else you listen to your podcasts. Seasons 1 and 2 are also available.
• Tune in every Wednesday for new episodes of Season 3.

The post Mike Hirschi Might Be the Greatest Trophy Mule Deer Hunter in America. These Are (Some of) His Secrets appeared first on Outdoor Life.

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On December 13, 2021, Logan Harlan carried a late-season buck tag onto New Mexico public land in hopes of finding a good-sized whitetail. After a few unsuccessful days with his dad Larry and sister-in-law Lorri, the group eventually eyed a large 6-by-6 on public land—a rarity in the heavily checkerboarded region they were hunting. Logan watched the buck for a grueling five and a half hours and belly-crawled a few hundred yards before eventually firing a shot with his 6.5 Creedmor. The buck went down instantly. This perseverance and grit shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows the Harlan family. They own a taxidermy studio and booking agency and, according to their Instagram and Facebook profiles, they live to hunt.

Whitetail deer aren’t exactly a top game species in New Mexico. Coues’ whitetails and Eastern whitetails, which New Mexico Game and Fish refers to as “Texas whitetails”, comprise roughly five percent of the annual deer harvest statewide. Mule deer make up the other 95 percent. This skewed ratio lends to a rather jarring statistic: Only two New Mexico whitetail deer have ever graced the Boone & Crockett record book. 

Or, at least, that was the case until Harlan took his shot in late 2021. After the requisite 60-day drying period, his typical 6-by-6 scored 176 ⅞ inches. This score would have been even higher had the buck not broken off its left main beam, but it was still enough to edge out the previous record holder, Samuel Beatty, by a half-inch. (The scarcity of New Mexico whitetails is so extreme that B&C doesn’t maintain non-typical records in the state even though the first two record-book whitetails were 6-by-5s.) 

Read Next: The True Backstory on Why the Mitch Rompola Buck Was Never Entered as a World Record

This is usually the moment where the hunting media frenzy hoists Harlan in the air and celebrates his success. But that didn’t happen in February 2022, when the drying period would have ended and the record would have changed hands. In fact, not many people really knew about the buck until North American Whitetails published the first known article about Harlan’s hunt on July 17, roughly 17 months after the drying period ended.

It’s unclear why it took so long for the story of Harlan’s buck to surface. As of right now, NMGF hasn’t updated the record book on its website. (NMGF didn’t immediately respond to OL’s requests for comment.) But Harlan’s name and scoresheet now reside in the B&C book at the top of the New Mexico records, right where they belong.

The post The Record Whitetail That No One Heard About…Until Now appeared first on Outdoor Life.

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More and more slug-gun states in the Midwest and East have legalized the use of straight-wall rifles during deer season in recent years. Straight-wall cartridges, like the .350 Legend and .45/70, give whitetail hunters superior accuracy at shorter ranges, making them safer to shoot than necked cartridges in densely populated areas. But rifled and sabot (pronounced “say-bo”) slugs are far from outdated. Countless hunters in the middle of this country take smoothbore and rifled-barrel shotguns afield each fall, hoping to punch a tag with these short-range projectiles.

Both rifled slugs and sabots are ideal for the distances hunters aim to kill whitetails—typically inside 150 yards—in shotgun-only states. Their lethality has been well documented after decades of successful use in the deer woods. But there remains a long-standing argument among slug-gun hunters: Which projectile is best suited for killing whitetails? Over the years, the editors of Outdoor Life have shot a variety of rifled slugs and sabots from the bench and in the field and know well the capabilities of each load. If you’re trying to decide which round is ideal for your hunting style, here are the realities of shooting rifled versus sabot slugs.

The Difference Between Rifled Slugs and Sabots

Hunters using shotguns for deer—either by preference or mandate—can select between a smoothbore that uses rifled (also known as Foster-style) slugs or a rifled bore for sabot loads. A rifled slug has small helical grooves cut into the base of the projectile, but the slug does not have a specified twist rate like a centerfire round does.

There is some conjecture as to whether the vanes in a rifled slug cause the projectile to spin at all. So, I talked to long-time gun writer Dave Henderson, who has decades of slug shooting experience and a wealth of knowledge after a 55-year career of interviewing some of the foremost ballisticians in the country. He also authored a book, Shotgunning for Deer: Guns, Loads, and Techniques for the Modern Hunter, which details the innovations in slug technology.

“Rifled slugs have no twist rate,” Henderson says. “The slugs transit the barrel static and exit that way. There are photos from a manufacturer in my book that clearly show the rifling on the slug is worn smooth in the barrel and the slug never rotates. The slug’s accuracy comes from the extreme nose-heavy design, giving it the ‘rock-in-a-sock’ or [badminton] shuttlecock flight characteristic.” 

The cuts are also there to allow the slug to pass through a choke tube safely. If the grooves were not in place, there would be more friction between the barrel and load, which would cause a considerable drop in performance or possibly result in a failure. The advantage with rifled slugs, of course, is that you don’t have to buy a special rifled barrel. You can use one shotgun to hunt deer, birds, and other small game.

“Rifled slugs may be fired in smoothbores or rifled barrels, with no advantage in either,” Henderson says. “The rifled slug sort of skids across the rifling in the barrel and exits the way it would a smoothbore.”

Sabot-style rifled barrels typically have twist rates that can fall between 1:18 to 1:36. For instance, the popular Ithaca Deer Slayer III and Savage 220 have a barrel twist of 1:24 (that’s one full rotation of the slug every 24 inches). But the Savage 212 has a 1:35 twist. Interestingly, former OL shooting editor Jim Carmichael found no statistical difference in accuracy between using a 1:28 and 1:32 rifled barrel in a 2008 slug gun test (more on this later).

“It’s the sabot slug that benefits from—in fact virtually requires —a rifled bore,” Henderson says. “The rifling grips the polymer sleeve(s) on the slug, imparting a stabilizing spin on the projectile while still in the barrel. In most cases the sleeve is discarded after exiting the bore.” —J.G.

Rifled Choke Tubes

Sabots can also be shot through a smoothbore with a rifled choke. Buying a rifled choke tube is a cost-effective way to use sabots in a smoothbore without incurring the expense of a completely new barrel. Sabots are streamlined bullets encased in plastic much like bird shot is loaded into a wad. When the round is fired, the slug remains in the plastic casing and spins down the barrel until the projectile leaves the muzzle. At that point, the sleeve and slug separate, and the projectile continues to spin as it travels downrange. Sabots are often polymer-tipped and sub-caliber, which translates to .50 in 12-gauge guns. By comparison, standard smoothbore slugs are between .72- and .75-caliber. —P.M.

Sabot vs. Slug Trajectory

Most 12-gauge rifled slugs weigh either 1 or 1⅛ ounces. Sabots weigh under an ounce, or 437.5 grains, and can range from 250 to 376 grains. Both hit hard enough to anchor any whitetail at a reasonable distance. But you will see more sustained velocity from sabot slugs. Sabots continue to travel at higher speeds for longer due to the aerodynamics of the projectile.

To confirm this, all you need to do is look at the trajectory of two 3-inch loads—Federal TruBall rifled slug and Federal Trophy Copper sabot—with a zero of 100 yards. The physical makeup of the projectiles is quite different, which drastically affects their performance downrange. TruBall has a weight of 438 grains and a muzzle velocity of 1,700 fps. Trophy Copper is lighter (300 grains) and leaves the muzzle 300 fps faster, at 2,000 fps. In the table below, you will see that TruBall’s trajectory dissipates more rapidly than Trophy Copper when both loads are shot out to 200 yards under the same conditions. —J.G.

Rifled Slug vs. Sabot: Which Load Offers Better Accuracy?

A few years ago, during a lengthy range session, I shot 2¾-inch 1-ounce Federal TruBall rifled slugs from an open sight Benelli M2 and Winchester 2¾-inch 375-grain Dual Bond sabot slugs from a scoped Browning A-Bolt. At shorter ranges (out to 75 yards), there wasn’t much of a noticeable difference between rifled and sabot slug accuracy. But when I started shooting out to 100 yards and beyond, the sabot excelled.

During my day on the range, I was not shooting rifled slugs through a scoped smoothbore, which could have contributed to the inaccuracies. But I have done so many other times and found that the rifled slug simply won’t perform at distance like a sabot can. For instance, that 12-gauge 1-ounce Federal TruBall slug weighed 437.5 grains, compared to the 375-grain Winchester Dual Bond sabot. The TruBall slug also had a muzzle velocity of 1,300 fps compared to the Winchester’s 1,800 fps. Slower, heavier projectiles are going to drop faster and have a less effective range than a slightly lighter, but much faster one. —P.M.

Jim Carmichael’s Slug Gun Test

Miller’s findings were confirmed by the ballistic data I gleaned from Carmichael’s test published in the October 2008 issue of OL. With the help of Randy Fritz, who builds the incredibly accurate Tar-Hunt slug guns, Carmichael tested 27 rifled and sabot slugs, shooting over 1,000 rounds from a 50-pound, remote-operated slug gun engineered by Fritz. Carmichael’s testing protocol called for five three-shot groups of each load out to 100 yards, though he did fire a few five-shot groups to confirm load consistency and the accuracy of the equipment.

The table below details the best 20- and 12-gauge groups from the four manufacturers—Federal, Remington, Winchester, and Lightfield— included in the test. Most of the loads Carmichael shot were sabots, but he did shoot two Winchester rifled slugs as well. You can see from the data that the sabot groups were much tighter than their rifled counterparts. —J.G.

Should You Use a 2¾-Inch or a 3-Inch Slug?

Most of my experience with slugs—rifled and sabot—has been with 2¾- and 3-inch 12-gauge offerings. It’s my contention that a 2¾-inch is adequate for killing deer, and that a 3-inch load simply generates more recoil with a slight amount of increased velocity. I chronographed Winchester’s Elite 3-inch Dual Bond sabot and found the muzzle velocity increase in a Browning A-Bolt to be only 50 fps faster than the 2¾-inch offering of the same weight. Granted, velocities can fluctuate for a variety of reasons, including the physical makeup of the bullet, elevation, and weather conditions, but I’ve never found that extra quarter-inch to make a marked difference.  —P.M.

 The 20-Gauge Sabot Slug  

When I worked in Illinois, a shotgun-only deer state, I noticed many whitetail hunters selected 20-gauge sabot slug guns. So, I was curious about 20-gauge range capabilities and asked Hornady’s Seth Swerczek about it.

“I think 20-gauge sabot loads are popular because of their reduced recoil,” Swerczek says. “Both of our 12- and 20-gauge sabot slug loads offer honest 200-yard performance, so you’re really not giving up any effective range by opting for the 20-gauge.”

A 200-yard shot with Hornady’s 2¾-inch 20-gauge SST sabot might be pushing the boundaries of that load’s effectiveness, especially if the shot placement isn’t precise. But the 250-grain slug can kill a deer at 150 yards. According to Hornady’s ballistics chart, the SST has a velocity of 1,331 fps and 983 ft/lb. of energy at that distance. Dial your shot back to 100 yards and the same load produces 1,200 ft/lb. of energy.

What helped sell me on the 20, aside from reduced felt recoil, was an opportunity to hunt hogs with a scoped, rifled-barrel Winchester M1300 pump several years ago. The longest shot I made was close to 100 yards, and the longest shot I saw anybody else connect on—with the same setup—was just over 120 yards. At 100 yards, those 20-gauge sabot slugs seemingly hit with the force of a .250-grain .45/70 (it’s actually about a 250 ft/lb. difference in favor of the Hornady MonoFlex over an SST slug in a side-by-side comparison). Regardless, the terminal results on 200-pound hogs, considerably tougher to bring down than a whitetail, were spectacular. —P.M.

Read next: The 15 Best Shotguns for Deer Hunting

Pick a Slug or Sabot Based on How You Hunt

Which option you choose—rifled or sabot slug—will be subjective based on your hunting needs. From 75 yards and in (with the occasional poke out to 100 yards) a rifled slug holds its own compared to a sabot. But if you have any chance of a 100-yard-plus shot, a sabot is clearly a better choice in terms of accuracy and trajectory.

I did ask Swerczek which sells better, Hornady’s SST sabot loads or the company’s traditional American Whitetail rifled slugs. He confirmed sabots are much more popular. That’s not surprising since most hunters are interested in getting the maximum distance they can from their firearm. But also, a sabot capable of shooting 50 to 75 yards farther can be the difference between killing your target buck and helplessly watching as it walks out of sight on the last day of gun season. —J.G. and P.M.

The post Rifled vs. Sabot Slugs: Are You Shooting the Right Whitetail Load this Deer Season? appeared first on Outdoor Life.

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Best High-End		Leica Amplus 6 3-18x44i	SEE IT
Most Versatile		Riton X3 Primal 3-15×44	SEE IT
Best Lightweight		Maven CRS.1 3-12×40	SEE IT

Because every deer hunt is unique in its details, a single rifle scope that can cover the close-in terrain of a Midwest whitetail hunt and precisely place a bullet across the open plains of mule deer country is a unicorn. The fast reticles and bright glass of woodland whitetail hunters won’t do for prairie mule deer hunters, who want precision reticles and lightweight scopes.

Given the divergent needs of America’s deer hunters, we’ve divided our group into two classes, those configured for classic whitetail hunting situations and those engineered to make long shots in challenging terrain. Each scope in this roundup has features that elevate it above its peers. For some, that’s best-in-class glass, for others, it’s extremely useful reticles. The rest have a combination of optics and controls that will increase your success during deer season no matter where or how you hunt. Here are the best rifle scopes for deer hunting from the Outdoor Life 2022 optics test. 

• Best High-End: Leica Amplus 6 3-18x44i
• Best First-Plane: Trijicon Tenmile HX 3-18×44
• Best for Low-Light: GPO Spectra 7.5x50i
• Best Mule Deer Scope: Tract Toric Ultra HD 2.5-15×44
• Most Versatile: Riton X3 Primal 3-15×44
• Best Lightweight: Maven CRS.1 3-12×40
• Best for Blacktail: Leupold Patrol 6HD 1-6×24
• Best for Low-Light (Whitetail): Meopta MeoSport R 3-15×50 RD
• Best Budget: Hawke Vantage 30 WA IR 2.5-10×50
• Best for Big-Woods: Primary Arms PLX Compact 1-8×24
• Best for Treestands: Vortex Strike Eagle 1-8×24
• Best Throwback: Bushnell Elite 4500 2.5-10×40

Western Deer Rifle Scopes

Open-country deer hunters have specific requirements in a rifle scope. They want it to be light enough to carry for miles over rugged country. They want it to be fast, in case the buck of a lifetime busts out of a coulee before they can range distance and dial the turrets. And they want plenty of reticle references to place precise shots over longish distances. These five scopes have attributes that will put the muley or Coues deer of a lifetime on the wall. And they’re pretty good for antelope and Western predator hunting, too.

Best High-End: Leica Amplus 6 3-18x44i

Leica

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Why It Made the Cut

Built around Leica’s legendary bright and crisp glass, the Amplus 6’s reticle and controls make this an essential deer hunting scope. The hash reticle offers 20 MOA of elevation and windage references, and the exposed turret makes dialing for distant hits fast and simple.

Key Features

• Weight: 23.6 ounces
• Magnification: 3-18X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 44mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Reticle Type: MOA hash in second plane
• Turrets: .25 MOA click values
• Illumination: Yes, 10 intensity levels
• Parallax: Yes

Pros

• Available in MOA or MRAD versions
• European style
• Excellent glass and coatings
• Precise parallax focus
• Abundant elevation and windage references
• Capped windage turret
• Center-point illumination

Cons

• Matte finish shows mars
• Busy reticle obscures view

Product Description

An elegant, extremely useful rifle scope, Leica’s Amplus line combines European glass and styling with precise reticle and turret combinations. Our sample was tuned to MOA references, but Leica also has a mil-based version of the Amplus. The scope is also available in higher magnification ranges (all are in the 6X zoom range, hence the 6 in the Amplus name) and larger objective lenses, but our relatively lightweight 3-18×44 is just about perfect for a Western deer rifle. The ability to re-zero the elevation turret without tools is a great feature, and the turrets turn with positivity and precision.

The reticle gets mixed reviews. Long-distance precision shooters will love the 20 MOA of elevation and windage hashes, but hunters used to clean, clutter-free reticles will complain that it’s overly busy and image-obscuring. Either way, the illuminated center aiming point can be muted or daylight-bright, depending on light conditions. It’s not cheap, but this is an heirloom-quality deer hunting optic.

Best First-Plane: Trijicon Tenmile HX 3-18×44

Trijicon

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Why It Made the Cut

A true crossover hunting/target scope, the Tenmile HX and its first-plane reticle will dominate just about any mid- to long-distance shooting situation.

Key Features 

• Weight: 24.4 ounces
• Magnification: 3-18X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 44mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Reticle Type: MOA hash/dot in first plane
• Turrets: .25 MOA click values
• Illumination: Yes, red and green
• Parallax: Yes

Pros

• Liberal mounting dimensions
• Precise first-plane reticle
• Exposed re-zeroable elevation turret
• Capped windage turret
• 15 yards to infinity parallax focus
• Low-profile mounting
• Ships with integral lens caps

Cons

• Busy reticle for holdover shooters
• Exposed turrets can inadvertently turn
• Pricey

Product Description

We debated whether to put this very capable 30mm scope in our precision or our versatile scope categories. That’s how much of a fence-rider this optic is, between a full-on steel-ringer for long-distance target shooters and walk-about Western hunters. Our best description of its place in the market is that this is the perfect hunting optic for a shooter who is familiar with first-plane reticles and turret dynamics of the long-distance target crowd but who wants a slim and capable hunting scope.

That describes an increasing number of Western deer hunters. They want all the precision aiming components of their big 5-25×56 target scopes with the portability of slim and nimble hunting scopes. The Trijicon satisfies both populations with a bright and precise scope that can cross over from long-range steel to open-country mule and Coues deer.

Best for Low-Light: GPO Spectra 7.5x50i

GPO

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Why It Made the Cut

A classic German configuration updated for Southwest Coues deer and open-country mule deer hunters, this simple fixed-power scope places bullets with consistent precision and gathers light like few others in its class.

Key Features 

• Weight: 21.7 ounces
• Magnification: 7.5X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 50mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Reticle Type: German 4 duplex in second plane
• Turrets: .1 milliradian
• Illumination: Yes, red center-point
• Parallax: No

Pros

• Extremely simple aiming dynamics
• Infinitely adjustable illumination
• Durable
• Fast aiming platform
• Turrets move with repeatable precision
• Fixed power increases brightness

Cons

• Fixed power limits utility
• Limited reticle references

Product Description

An extremely capable modern variation on a classic fixed-power hunting scope, the GPO Spectra cuts out all the nonsense of reticle references and turret dialing. This is a bright, durable fixed-power 7.5, a perfect pairing with a flat-shooting bolt rifle when you want to concentrate on hunting, not fiddling with your scope.

The glass is very good, the center-point illumination extremely variable, and the turrets turn with repeatable precision. For hunters who want to concentrate on making short- to mid-distance shots every time, this is a good choice. Extreme long-range hunters and shooters may want more focal control, a more sophisticated reticle, and tactical turrets. But for the rest of us, this is a very capable close- to mid-range scope that performs best in low-light hunting scenarios. It’s nice to see this style of scope back in the American marketplace.

Best Mule Deer Scope: Tract Toric Ultra HD 2.5-15×44

Tract Optics

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Why It Made the Cut

The most capable cross-over target-to-hunting rifle scope in this year’s Outdoor Life optics test is a bright, tight, and precise first-plane scope that can reach out for both distant steel targets and open-country deer.

Key Features 

• Weight: 28.3 ounces
• Magnification: 2.5-15X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 44mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Reticle Type: Hash-style in first focal plane
• Turrets: .1 milliradian
• Illumination: No
• Parallax: Yes, 10 yards to infinity

Pros

• Wonderfully responsive turret clicks
• First-plane reticle rare in this configuration
• Bright, distortion-free Schott glass
• Capped windage turret
• Versatile first-plane reticle
• Wide parallax range
• Handsome graphite finish

Cons

• Reticle utility begins at about 5X
• Needs clear center aiming point
• Illumination would help with close-in aiming

Product Description

The top cross-over scope of 2023, this bright and tactile first-plane hunting scope can put Western deer hunters on target out to 500 yards and beyond, depending on how familiar they are with reticle references. The robust pull-to-turn elevation turret and capped windage turret are both tuned to .1 MRAD click values, and the hash-style reticle offers 10 mils of drop and 8 mils of windage hold on either side of the non-distinct center aiming point.

This Tract Toric is a relatively light scope with abundant mounting options, making it a good pairing for a long-range hunting rig or even for many flat-shooting ultralight hunting rifles. Surprisingly, it’s also an excellent precision rimfire optic, with close-focus to 10 yards and a capable first-plane hash-style reticle that can put shooters on target at a wide range of magnifications and distances.

Most Versatile: Riton X3 Primal 3-15×44

Riton

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Why It Made the Cut

A basic scope with just enough attributes to appeal to precision shooters, this is a scope that you can swap between platforms and seasons.

Key Features 

• Weight: 24.8 ounces
• Magnification: 3-15X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 44mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Reticle Type: Hash-style in second plane
• Turrets: .25 MOA
• Illumination: No
• Parallax: Yes, 15 yards to infinity

Pros

• Capped, zero-resettable turrets
• Removable throw lever on magnification ring
• Versatile PDTR reticle
• Magnification range suited to open-country hunting
• Decent mid- to long-range target scope
• 25 MOA of holdover references

Cons

• Mild peripheral distortion
• Could use distance wind references

Product Description

A basic but versatile scope built around a clean second-plane reticle that enables hunters to make longish holdover shots, the Riton X3 Primal can also do solid work on mid-distance steel and most precision rimfire courses of fire. As befits an optic that expects to see rough country, the re-zeroable turrets are capped. But the fast and precise hash-style reticle, which has 25 MOA of elevation holds and 15 MOA of windage holds on either side of the center aiming dot, is designed for hunters who don’t have time to dial the turrets for an aiming solution. Pronghorn antelope, broken-country elk, mule deer just about anywhere, Coues deer, and even Western coyote hunters can benefit from the simple efficiency of this scope.

Deficiencies include slightly squinty glass that lost light before its 44mm peers and lack of illumination. I’m not sure that latter point is a demerit; I’ve rarely used an illuminated reticle in hunting situations.

Whitetail Deer Rifle Scopes

I’m guilty of a gross generalization here, but the woodland and farm-country deer hunter wants a rifle scope that delivers good low-light performance and can assist with fast shooting. Big, exposed tactical turrets don’t belong here, and neither do complicated reticles. These seven scopes all have some combination of optical superiority and fast aiming.

Best Lightweight: Maven CRS.1 3-12×40

Maven

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Why It Made the Cut

While this charming little scope has plenty of attributes for a mountain hunter—light weight, bright glass, with just enough reticle references for mid-range work—it’s actually a wonderful whitetail scope. I’d stick with the CRS.1 for the widest utility, but if you want a little more magnification plus parallax focus, then go with the 4-16×44 CRS.2, which costs an extra $100.

Key Features 

• Weight: 14.2 ounces
• Magnification Range: 3-12X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 40mm
• Tube Diameter: 1-inch
• Turret Click Values: .25 MOA
• Reticle Focal Plane: Second
• Illuminated Reticle: No

Pros

• Light and compact
• Parallax fixed at 100 yards

Cons

• Fixed parallax limits long-range work
• Bold styling too blingy for some hunters

Product Description

A stylish, no-frills scope from a direct-to-consumer brand, the CRS.1 is the bare-boned version of a new Maven platform. If you want side focus and a little more magnification, consider the 4-16×44 CRS.2, but most whitetail hunters want a simple, durable, versatile scope, and the CRS.1 is just the ticket. The CRS.1 offers a ton of mounting dimension on its 1-inch tube, responsive turrets tuned to ¼ MOA click values under protective caps, and a velvety power-changing dial, and just enough bling to add some pizazz to your rifle. It’s also one of the best rifle scopes under $500.

To my eye, this is a perfect companion to a flat-shooting ultralight mountain rifle for a hunter who intends to get within range to hold right on the target with the center of the classic German 4 reticle. But in case you need some holdover references for mid-distance shots, the CRS.1 provides three hashes that should get you on target out to 500 or 600 yards. In other words, you can still make that long shot across the bean field at that whitetail of a lifetime.

Best for Blacktail: Leupold Patrol 6HD 1-6×24

Leupold

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Why It Made the Cut

This scope isn’t really intended for deer hunting. It’s designed for a wide range of firearms: AR platforms, or maybe dangerous-game rifles in Africa’s thickest thornbush, or even straight-wall lever guns. But its combination of low magnification, bright glass, and a laser-sharp illuminated aiming point make it an ideal treestand or whitetail brush scope.

Key Features 

• Weight: 16.2 ounces
• Magnification: 1-6X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 28mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Reticle Type: Duplex in second plane
• Turrets: .25 MOA
• Illumination: Yes, 8-step intensity
• Parallax: No

Pros

• Extremely light weight
• Fast and open duplex reticle
• Durable
• Smart illumination system
• Excellent glass and coatings

Cons

• Not a precision scope
• Limited distance utility

Product Description

Let’s start with what the Leupold Patrol 6HD is not. It’s not a precision scope. It won’t help you win long-range steel-target competitions or even precision rimfire matches. But it’s one of the best of a new generation of low-power variable optics that can absolutely put venison in your freezer. Paired with a straight-wall lever gun or an AR, a slug gun, or just about any centerfire rifle, this is a workhorse of an optic that enables fast shots, quick follow-ups, and decent performance at the first and last light of the day. 

The low-profile push-button center-point (that’s a lot of hyphenated terms) illumination is one of the Leupold’s best features. It’s dimmable for low-light conditions and can intensify to bright visibility in full sunshine. If you want to increase the utility of this platform, consider a custom elevation dial tuned to the ballistics of your favorite load. Otherwise, go with the out-of-box talent of this durable, athletic, and versatile scope.

Best for Low-Light (Whitetail): Meopta MeoSport R 3-15×50 RD

Meopta

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Why It Made the Cut

A scope designed for the German “hochsitz,” or high stands used by shooters in driven-game hunts, this scope’s low-light performance makes it a great choice for whitetail hunters who need to connect in the very first and last light of day.

Key Features 

• Weight: 23.1 ounces
• Magnification Range: 3-15X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 50mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Turret Click Values: 1 centimeter/100 yards
• Reticle Focal Plane: Second
• Illuminated Reticle: Yes

Pros

• Excellent glass for the money
• Best-in-class low-light performance
• Expansive 90 MOA internal adjustment
• Exposed pull-to-turn turrets
• 10-yards-to-infinity focus
• 30mm mounting rings included

Cons

• Some shooters want covered turrets
• Duplex reticle overly simple

Product Description

An affordable, supremely versatile scope, the main asset for deer hunters of this Czech-made rifle scope is its low-light performance. The German 4 duplex reticle has been around since the original Mauser rifles were doing duty on behalf of the armies of the Reich, but Meopta has added a smart center aiming point that enables holds in just about any legal light conditions. To be sure, this isn’t a long-distance precision scope, but it’s not intended to be. Instead, it’s a light-hungry optic that can conjure game out of the gloam and enable confident shots with your best deer hunting rifles. It’s also one of the great bargains of this year’s Outdoor Life optics test.

Best Budget: Hawke Vantage 30 WA IR 2.5-10×50

Hawke Optics

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Why It Made the Cut

Bright, affordable, and extremely versatile, this scope won’t win long-distance shooting medals, but it will place bullets in deer country with confidence.

Key Features 

• Weight: 21.1 ounces
• Magnification Range: 2.5-10X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 50mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Turret Click Values: .25 MOA
• Reticle Focal Plane: Duplex in the second plane
• Illuminated Reticle: Yes, red and green center dot

Pros

• Simple aiming system
• Durable capped turrets
• Red and green center-dot illumination
• 60 MOA internal adjustment
• Extremely affordable

Cons

• No side focus
• Indistinct turret clicks
• Meh glass

Product Description

The Outdoor Life optics test team still doesn’t know how Hawke packs so much performance in such an affordable package. This is one of the best all-around scopes in the 2022 test. If it’s not built for long-distance (or even mid-distance) precision, it’s fast, bright, and nimble in many close-in and moderate distances. The best feature of the Vantage is the bold reticle with a precise, illuminated (red and green) center aiming point. We also like the low-light performance of the big 50mm objective lens.

The basic Vantage 30 WA is a good value, but if you want more mid- and longish-distance performance, consider the tactical version of this scope, with exposed high-profile turrets and a holdover reticle tuned to the ballistics of standard .223 and .308 loads. That version is maybe the ultimate deer scope.

Best for Big-Woods: Primary Arms PLX Compact 1-8×24

Primary Arms

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Why It Made the Cut

A personal-defense scope that can hold its own in ground-blind and treestand hunting situations, the Primary Arms is fast and surprisingly precise with the right loads.

Key Features 

• Weight: 16.9 ounces
• Magnification Range: 1-8X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 24mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Turret Click Values: .1 MIL
• Reticle Focal Plane: Open-horseshoe in first focal plane
• Illuminated Reticle: Yes

Pros

• Close-quarters illuminated reticle
• Reticle zooms out to offer precise aiming points
• Reticle tuned to 5.56/.308 ballistics
• Night-vision compatible
• Extremely light and bright
• Ultra-wide field of view
• Useful dovetail throw lever

Cons

• Expensive
• Limited low-light performance

Product Description

Along with the Leupold Patrol 6HD, this is a new breed of deer scope—a low-power variable optic with plenty of chops for close to mid-range hunting. The best feature of the Primary Arms PLX, which is really designed for use on personal-defense AR platforms, is its first-plane reticle that zooms from close-quarters 1-power out to reveal a very useful holdover reticle at 6- to 8-power. That reticle is tuned to the bullet drops of standard 5.56 and .308 loads. 

Combined with excellent illumination (which is compatible with night vision) and sharp and bright Japanese glass, this is a scope that can easily be swapped between deer rifles, slug guns, AR semi-autos, and even big-bore dangerous-game rifles. Don’t laugh, but at a shade over a pound, I wouldn’t be shy about mounting this to a sheep rifle, especially if my approach passed through bear country.

Best for Treestands: Vortex Strike Eagle 1-8×24

Vortex

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Why It Made the Cut

Along with the Primary Arms PLX, this is the leading edge of a new type of close-quarters deer scope that is a perfect match with a AR, slug gun, or straight-wall cartridge rifle.

Key Features 

• Weight: 23.9 ounces
• Magnification Range: 1-8X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 24mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Turret Click Values: .25 MOA
• Reticle Focal Plane: Open-horseshoe in first focal plane
• Illuminated Reticle: Yes

Pros 

• Wonderfully versatile illumination
• Reticle offers useful holdovers at higher magnifications
• Short stature fits carbine rifles
• Tons of internal adjustment for turret dialers
• Battle-hardened hardware
• VIP warranty

Cons

• Limited to short- to mid-distance shooting
• Not great low-light performance

Product Description

You can pretty much copy what we said about the Primary Arms PLX to recommend this wonderful close-quarters scope from Vortex. It has best-in-class rapid target acquisition inside 50 yards, but its first-plane reticle enlarges to reveal some sweet and useful aiming points that make it useful for 400-yard precision. This is really an AR scope that can engage targets inside houses and then place precise shots across a field. Those attributes make it great for Midwest whitetail hunters (or Canadian bear hunters) who expect to see game right under their stand but need to be prepared to take shots out across a clearing. Paired with any number of firearms platforms, this has very positive and precise controls, from turret clicks to the power-changing dial.

Best Throwback: Bushnell Elite 4500 2.5-10×40

Bushnell

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Why It Made the Cut

This is your father’s deer scope, with some sweet Gen Y updates. Simple, reliable, and fast, the Bushnell has the benefit of excellent coatings and decent glass.

Key Features 

• Weight: 19.7 ounces
• Magnification Range: 2.5-10X
• Objective Lens Diameter: 40mm
• Tube Diameter: 30mm
• Turret Click Values: .25 MOA
• Reticle Focal Plane: Second
• Illuminated Reticle: No

Pros

• Very appealing price
• 30mm tube provides wide adjustment range
• Duplex reticle delivers fast aiming
• Excellent optical coatings
• Ample 4.3-inch eye relief

Cons

• Underwhelming glass
• Lack of illumination limits utility

Product Description

This is one of the best rifle scopes for deer hunting for every shooting situation. Want to put a scope on your kid’s new .243, this will place bullets reliably. Want a durable scope for your old .300 Win. Mag.? This will get the job done. It’s a workaday scope without a ton of flash, but the Elite 4500 is a smart update from the durable Bushnells that owned the whitetail woods 20 years ago. 

The bold duplex reticle in the second focal plane is fast, and for those shooters who want to dial for distant shooting solutions, the capped turrets turn with precision and positivity. The glass is a little disappointing, owing to the Elite 4500’s placement as a budget scope, but unless you’re shooting in the very last feeble light of day, you’ll hardly notice.

Things to Consider Before Buying a Rifle Scope for Deer Hunting

Deer hunters don’t really need a ton of features in their rifle scopes. A clear and clean reticle that lets them place bullets quickly and with mid-range precision. A bombproof build that will endure the hardships of the field. And versatility that will help hunters succeed in the deep woods or the open fields where you’ll find deer everywhere. That’s about it.

If deer are similar in their habits across their range, hunting styles differ by geography and species. The needs of an Eastern whitetail hunter (or Cascades blacktail hunter) are vastly different from those of an open-country Western mule deer or Coues deer hunter. For the former, fast reticles and the ability to make quick, reactive shots inside 100 yards are key. For the latter, lightweight builds that offer plenty of reticle references will enable shots that can stretch out to 400 and 500 yards will put bucks on the pole.

FAQs

Final Thoughts

Just as no two deer hunts are the same, no two deer hunters will have the same needs for their rifle scopes. But the requirements for an Eastern or Midwestern deer hunter are so wildly different than those of their Western brethren that we divided this class in half, with scopes for Western hunters showing their long-distance precision capabilities, and those for woodland hunters having simpler reticles and fast, intuitive builds.

You may want a scope that splits the difference and offers a reticle that zooms from close-in visibility to mid-distance precision. We have a few low-power variable scopes in this mix that you should consider. And for those who want a scope that can reach way out to a distant buck and serve as a long-range target scope, consider the first-plane, tactical-turret models in this group. Regardless of your tactics or where you hunt deer, you’ll have no problem finding one of the best rifle scopes for deer hunting in these capable contenders.

Methodology 

Some of the scopes in this roundup are new for 2022 and were included in the rigorous evaluations of Outdoor Life’s annual optics test. For those, which include all but the Leica Amplus 6, I measured optical resolution on my resolution range, scored low-light performance against their peers, and measured the precision and repeatability of the reticle and turrets. I based my perspectives of the Leica’s merits on a rugged year of field work

But for each scope, I rate their ability to perform a series of shooting tasks, engaging targets at 20 yards, then at 100, and in 100-yard steps out to 600 yards. For each distance, I evaluate the reticle, image, and turret controls. I lugged all these scopes into a ladder stand and evaluated their abilities to make quick snap shots at close ranges.

For each, I make a subjective determination of optical quality, looking for distortions, optical aberrations, and any distracting jags of light. And I determine how quickly and precisely I can use the reticle.

Lastly, I assessed the extras, including the accessories that it ships with and each submission’s warranty.

The post The Best Rifle Scopes for Deer Hunting of 2023 appeared first on Outdoor Life.

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Bowhunting for whitetail deer is the most accessible and thrilling big-game hunt in all of North America. A mature, rut-crazed whitetail buck that stomps and grunts his way into bow range on a crisp November morning is a true spectacle to behold. Executing a perfect archery shot on that old buck—drawing your bow undetected, holding for the ideal window, squeezing the release, seeing the arrow in flight, and hearing it hit home—is perhaps the purest moment in all of modern hunting.

If you want to get in on the action, you’ve got a lot to learn. Bowhunting for deer requires general woodsmanship and hunting knowledge, plus some specific skills and gear. In this guide, we cover everything you need to know about how to bow hunt deer, including:

• How to find places to bow hunt
• Understanding deer behavior and deer sign
• Basic bowhunting gear
• How to practice shooting a compound bow
• Bowhunting tips and tactics
• Shot placement and shot selection
• Blood trailing and recovering your deer

The good news is that there are a lot of deer out there (more than 30 million), and every state east of the Mississippi has a robust whitetail population. Many western states also have excellent bowhunting opportunities as well. Find our full forecast on the 2022 deer hunting season here. With the right knowledge and gear, you can embark on a lifetime of bowhunting adventures. If you’re already a deer hunter and interested in adding an archery season to your fall, just skip down to the section on basic bowhunting gear. Otherwise, here’s how to get started.

How to Find Places to Bow Hunt

A bowhunter’s job is to ambush a deer at close range and then make a clean, killing shot. That can seem intimidating when you consider the fact that whitetails frequent large forests, small woodlots, rolling farm fields, expansive marshes, and almost every other wild land in between. So where do you start?

Begin your search relatively close to home. As a new bowhunter you’re going to need to spend time in the woods to learn. So, you want your main bowhunting area to be a place you can visit often with an easy drive. From there, consider the following types of land.

Private Land

Scoring a small piece of private land is a dream scenario for a new bowhunter. Maybe you have a family member or close friend with some farm ground you could hunt. Or maybe a neighbor might let you hunt on the back 40 acres. Or maybe you know some veteran hunters who might give you access to their private ground for part of the season. You could even try your hand at landing a small, affordable hunting lease. In any case, private land is ideal for a new bowhunter because it helps you avoid the biggest challenge in public-land hunting: competing with other hunters.

Public Land

If you don’t have access to private land, use a mapping app like OnX or Huntstand to identify public hunting lands in your area. Common public lands that usually allow bowhunting for deer included:

• State forests
• State wildlife management areas
• State natural areas
• National forests
• National wildlife refuges
• Waterfowl production areas
• Scenic wild river areas
• Bureau of Land Management lands

There are also a variety of private land programs that provide public access for hunting. Those programs include:

• Walk-in areas
• Voluntary public access areas
• Logging company owned lands
• Conservation easements
• Managed forest lands

Always check your local regulations before making plans to hunt a piece of publicly accessibly land. Even within states, similar types of public hunting land can have different regulations.

Once you’ve identified the piece of land you like (either public or private), then it’s time to look closer using your mapping application. Take note of access points, farm fields, bodies of water, and general topography (hills, ridges, lowlands, etc.). Once you have a lay of the land, it’s time to put boots on the ground and do some scouting.

Understanding Deer Behavior and Sign

There are an infinite number of articles written about whitetail behavior, deer sign, and the rut. But at the most basic level, deer need to eat, drink, and find a safe place to bed every day. During the rut, they need to breed. Deer leave sign behind as they move through the woods and progress through the breeding season. Understanding deer behavior, deer sign, the rut and how hunting pressure impacts it all, will help you pinpoint the best places to hunt at any point throughout the season. The following basics will get you started.

Basic Deer Behavior

In general, deer are most active in the early morning, the late evening, and at night. During the middle of the day, deer bed down in areas where they won’t be bothered by predators. This could mean thickets, grassy patches of marsh, or remote wooded ridges. However, deer do feed throughout the day, usually just closer to cover.

By late afternoon, deer will typically stir from their bedding areas, and start to mill around looking for food and water. By evening or nighttime, they’ll head for major feeding areas like agricultural fields or oak flats where there are lots of acorns on the ground. By morning, deer will start to head back to the security of their bedding areas. This means that ideal places to ambush whitetails is on trails between feeding areas and bedding areas or on core feeding areas themselves. But remember, there are no hard-and-fast rules on deer behavior. Whitetails will do whatever they like, whenever they like.

The Whitetail Rut

The rut (or the fall breeding season, which is spurred on by decreasing daylight) greatly impacts deer behavior and patterns—typically in a good way for hunters. As the photo period shortens testosterone in whitetail bucks increases, which drives them to breed. This means that rutting bucks will spend more time on their feet, searching for does when the rut begins. There are several phases to the rut, but in most parts of the country heavy rutting activity begins in late October and continues through mid-November. During the rut, bowhunters should target major deer trails or naturally occurring funnels (like a strip of woods between two ponds) to intercept cruising bucks.

It makes sense to hunt all day during the rut, since bucks could stomp by at any time. Many mature bucks are killed each year between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m.

Bucks also fight for dominance during the rut, however it’s important to note that whitetails are not territorial. Bucks are fighting over breeding opportunities, not the ground itself. So, when all else fails, hunt where the does are, and soon enough a buck might come charging by.

Reading Deer Sign

The best bowhunters are knowledgeable woodsmen. They know how to read tracks, scat, sign, and interpret how deer use the landscape. This takes a lifetime of practice to master, and the only way to get good at it is to spend time in the field. However, these basics will get you started.

Tracks

You’ll find deer tracks in mud, sand, and snow. The points of the hooves tell you which way the deer was heading. Buck tracks are typically longer and wider (they appear blockier) and doe tracks are typically more slender. If you consistently see fresh tracks in the same area over and over, you know that’s a good area to hang a trail camera or a stand.

Scat

Deer poop is another easy way to identify that whitetails have been in the area. Look for an area that has a variety of scat freshness. In other words, there’s fresh poop, old poop, and very old poop laying around in piles. You’ll find this in main feeding areas or bedding areas.

Buck Rubs

As soon as bucks shed their velvet, they begin rubbing their antlers on trees. These rubs are sometimes made one after another along a trail—this is called a rub line. Rubs are good for showing that a buck was in an area, but they are not necessarily a dead giveaway for a hunting spot. However, spots that receive rubs every year, or large “sign post rubs” are worth targeting, at least with trail cameras.

Scrapes

A whitetail scrape is a circular dirt spot where deer have scraped away leaves and debris with their hooves. They can vary in size from about two feet in diameter, up to the area of a small dining room table. Above the scrape there will be a branch that hangs to about chest height, this is called a licking branch. Both bucks and does will urinate in scrapes and rub the glands on their face against the licking branch. Doing so leaves behind their scent and lets other deer know who’s around. You can dig into the details around hunting scrapes and making mock scrapes here, but for a simple explanation, think of them as that fire hydrant in the neighborhood that every dog likes to sniff and urinate on. Scrapes are most often used at night, so hunting over a single scrape is a bit of a gamble. However, active scrapes (which are often made along field edges) are good places to hang trail cameras. If you find a buck hitting a scrape in the daytime, it often pays to hunt it right away.

Basic Bowhunting Gear

Getting started bowhunting is an investment in time and money. Buying the wrong gear can cost you more of both, so here’s a guide to make sure you’re headed in the right direction. You’ll need:

• Bow or crossbow
• Arrows
• Broadheads
• Release aid
• Rangefinder
• Quiver
• Treestand or blind
• Knife
• Pack

Choosing a Bow  

The brand or model of bow you choose is not important. What’s important is that the bow fits you. There are two key things for bow fit: draw length and draw weight. Modern compound bows are so efficient that you can effectively hunt with low draw weight, so leave your ego out of that equation. You want to be able to draw the bow straight back easily. No wrestling the bow back through a series of awkward and dangerous movements. Just a nice easy pull, straight back. 

Equally important is draw length, which requires a studied eye to set properly. Also, your draw length might change a little as your form improves. That’s why you really need the help of a great archery shop to buy, set up, and tune your first bow. For many people, a good archery shop (not a big box store) requires a drive, but trust me, it’s worth it to get started properly. 

The Complete Bow Setup

There are many shiny and seductive accessories at archery shops, but for a new archer, keep it simple. A three- or five-pin sight, a Whisker Biscuit, and a bow quiver are all you need. A lot of the best bows for the money come as ready-to-hunt packages, which make things easier and save you money, which you can use for archery lessons. 

Arrows and Broadheads

You can’t shoot just any arrow from your bow. Arrows come in sizes, called spines, that correspond to your draw weight, arrow length, and point weight. When you’re buying a bow, the shop staff will help you figure out that equation, and every arrow manufacturer has a spine chart or calculator to help you find the right size arrow. 

Broadheads, like bows, are a matter of personal preference. Many will work great, and you don’t have to spend a lot of money on them to kill deer. But you do need to make sure that the broadhead you choose is sharp and shoots where you aim it. I recently tested more than 20 of the best broadheads, and you can use that review to help guide your choice. But you still need to shoot the head you choose and get it sharp again before you go hunting. 

Hunting Gear

You can kill a deer in jeans and flannel sitting in a natural blind. But a treestand makes the already difficult task of shooting a deer, a little easier. You’ll of course need all the treestand-related gear like a safety harness, lifeline, bow hanger, and bow pull-up rope. A small bowhunting backpack is helpful for carrying essentials like a knife, license, food, and layers. Trail cameras aren’t necessary, but they’re a helpful tool for new hunters because they can give you the confidence that there are deer in the area. 

READ NEXT: What Colors Can Deer See?

Avoid Gear Rabbit Holes

Bowhunting gear is fun. There are a lot of interesting products on the market as well as communities of people who are zealots for their preferred gear style. From heavy arrows to tree saddles, bowhunters can get downright tribal with gear choices and they can be pretty convincing that their way is the best way. But, becoming a successful bowhunter is not about the gear you choose. It’s about spending time shooting at the range and learning in the woods. Stick to the basics and let your taste in gear evolve through experience. 

How to Practice Shooting Your Compound Bow

Basic Archery Form 

You’ll hear the term “archery form” thrown around a lot in archery discussions, and form just means the set of steps you follow each time you shoot. Here are the important steps:

Grip

A good grip uses your body’s natural bone structure to help you support the bow and imparts no torque. Start with a relaxed hand and slide it up the bow’s grip until it can go no farther. The web of your hand should now be in the throat, which is the deepest part of the bow’s grip.

Next, rotate your hand until only the area between your thumb and the palm’s lifeline contacts the grip. As you look at your hand, your knuckles should be set back and at a 45-degree angle to the riser. Point your thumb toward the target, and lightly rest your other fingers on the front of the bow. If you find yourself squeezing the bow’s grip, tuck in your fingers, so they don’t touch the bow. If you use the tucked technique, you’ll need a finger or wrist sling to prevent the bow from dropping. Apply slight pressure to the bowstring to set your grip into place, and keep your hand relaxed throughout the shot.

Draw

Straighten your arm that holds the bow and pull with your arm attached to the string via the release aid. Keep your finger away from the trigger during this process—the one time I failed to mention that to a student, it resulted in a dentist visit. You should not need to make a violent motion to bring the string back, if you do, your draw weight is too high. Imagine the arm doing the pulling as a train, where your elbow is the locomotive leading the way. 

Anchor

Your anchor is simply the point at which your bow is at full draw and you settle in to aim. An often-missed portion of anchor is something called alignment. As your cams rollover and you feel the draw stops hit, it’s time to move your elbow and shoulders into position. Moving them into alignment means you’ll be supporting the weight of the bow with bone structure, rather than muscle. Bring your elbow back and around your head so that it’s in line with the arrow. Your shoulders should be aligned with each other and pointed toward the target. Once in this position, you’ll feel that keeping the bow back is very easy. Then look through your peep sight and center the circular sight housing within the circle of your peep. You can add more reference points to your anchor like a kisser button, which can make centering your sight an easier process. 

Aim 

Place the pin for the distance you’re shooting on the target and let it float around your aiming point. Don’t try to stop the movement. Just let the pin naturally float and move on to executing your release. 

Release

There are a lot of ways to activate a release. But the easiest to start with is to set the release so that the trigger is fairly heavy. You should be able to rest your finger on the trigger without it going off. Step one is to touch the trigger and hook your index finger around the trigger. Then slowly increase the pressure until the shot breaks. 

Follow Through 

There’s enough time between the release and the arrow disengaging for you to change the arrow’s path. So, your job in this moment is to do nothing. Don’t move, and don’t add flair to the shot. Just keep your eyes on the spot you want to hit and maintain your position. 

Learn to Shoot

You can learn archery form by reading articles, watching videos, or from old uncle Bobby, but you’ll be much better off by getting instruction from a qualified coach. A few lessons to learn the fundamentals followed by a lot of practice will set you up for success. 

Making Shots Under Pressure 

Shooting groups in the backyard is one thing. Making the same shot when your pin drops onto a live animal is the true test. Success here is not about making yourself less nervous. It’s about shooting the same shot despite the nerves. To do that, don’t focus on how much you want to shoot the deer. Instead, keep your focus on the steps you need to do to achieve that result. Focus on the key steps of your archery form—one by one. By executing each step and only focusing on those tasks, you reduce the chance of making a bad shot. 

How to Bow Hunt Deer, Tips and Tactics

Hunt the Wind

Whitetails navigate the world by scent. They have incredibly powerful noses that lead them to food, other deer, and help them avoid predators. This means that bowhunters must always stay downwind from deer. Check prevailing wind data and hang key stands based on that info. Also make sure you have stand setups that are optimal for different wind directions. If the wind isn’t right for a given stand location, simply don’t hunt it on that day. If deer get downwind from you, they are almost guaranteed to smell you before they get into bow range. If you blow out deer from a stand location, you can burn that spot for several days.

It’s just as important to factor in wind when approaching your stand. Never let your scent blow into a bedding area. Likewise, don’t let your scent blow across the main trails that you are trying to hunt.  

Kill Your Scent (as Much as Possible)

Many veteran bowhunters (myself included), believe that it’s worth trying to reduce your scent. To do this, you can shower with scent-free soap before you hunt. Wash your hunting clothes with scent-free detergent. There are a variety of scent-killing sprays that you can spray on your outer layers before you walk into your stand. Avoid getting strong scents (like gasoline while filling up your truck) on your clothes or boots before a hunt. Wear rubber boots and spray them down. Avoid touching vegetation with your bare hands on the way into your stand.

All these tactics will help prevent you from being busted by deer; however, you’ll never consistently beat a deer’s nose. So always hunt with the wind in your favor, no matter what scent mitigation tools you use. 

Set Up for Close Encounters

Bowhunting for whitetails is a close-range game. When you’re a new bowhunter, it needs to be an ultra-close-range game. No matter how accurate you are on targets, your first shot on a whitetail deer should be 20 yards or less (read my story about deer jumping the string). To make this happen, you need to set up your stand or blind close to where you expect deer to show. Treestands are the go-to option for most bowhunters. Pick a good-sized tree that’s about as wide as your shoulders. If you’re using a hang-on stand, mount the stand so branches or forks break up your outline. Make sure that you have cover behind you. If you’re using a blind, brush it in diligently and tuck it into existing cover so you’re not sticking out in the open. Confirm that you’re setting up close enough to main trails by using a rangefinder. And when you’re sitting in your stand waiting for deer, range trees, rocks, bushes, ect. Establish a 20-yard perimeter and don’t shoot beyond it.

Hunt Does

It’s important for anyone learning how to bow hunt deer to get useful field experience. The only way to do that is to start shooting deer. And the best way to do that is by targeting does in areas with high deer densities. Many states have areas where whitetail populations are too high, often where rural lands meet suburbia. Trophy potential usually isn’t very high in these areas, but for a new bowhunter, any cleanly killed deer should be considered a trophy.

Use Calls and Scent Attractants

There are dozens of different deer calls and attractant scents on the market, and many of them are useful. They key is to use them sparingly. You can’t simply hammer on a grunt tube and expect deer to come running from far and wide. When it comes to calls, a grunt tube and a doe bleat are a good place to start. Read about deer calling tips from the experts here.

When it comes to scents, I’ve found that a little Tink’s 69 Doe-in-Rut sprinkled on a scent wick will get bucks (at least younger bucks) to stop in shooting range during the rut. But you still need to be in the right place at the right time.

Shot Selection and Placement

We’ve already covered taking close shots only. Now you need to know where to place your arrow. In the simplest terms, you want your arrow to enter behind the deer’s shoulder, pass through the heart/lungs area, and exit the body cavity (here’s our ultimate guide on where to shoot a deer). In other stories and on social media you might read about shooting heavy arrows that will penetrate the bones in a whitetail’s shoulder. It’s true that certain setups will penetrate bone without issue.

But beginner bowhunters should first learn proper shot placement behind the shoulder, no matter what setup they’re shooting. That means broadside and quartering away shots only.

On broadside shots, aim just behind the deer’s front leg (when it’s in the forward position) and halfway up the body. There are a lot of charts and videos online covering archery shot placement on whitetail deer. But this simple video from the National Deer Association is the best.

On a quartering away shot, visualize a line coming up from the front of the deer’s offside front leg. You want your arrow to exit through that line. However, you should pass on extreme quartering away shots. Buy a 3D deer target and practice shooting quartering away angles, and the high angle from a tree stand, as much as you can. When shooting from high angles pay close attention to how the arrow enters the 3D deer’s “body cavity.” With the arrow’s downward angle, you still want it to penetrate the top of the heart.

Blood Trailing and Recovering Your Deer

You got to full draw, waited for the deer to get into the right position, and let it fly. Congratulations, but your hunt isn’t over. You haven’t fully learned how to bow hunt deer until you’ve developed blood trailing skills. There are two keys to recovering deer: patience and attention to detail.

Watch and Listen

At the shot watch and listen. Listen for how the arrow sounds when it hits the deer. A hollow sounding “thunk” often means a shot through the body cavity. A loud “crack” often means a direct hit to bone. Watch how the deer reacts. A mule kick often means a shot through the lungs. A hunched up, arched back often means a gut shot. Continue watching as the deer runs (or walks) away. Mark the last spot that you saw the deer, and take a photo of that spot with your phone. Continue listening even after you no longer see the deer. Oftentimes you can hear them crash down. Mark the direction it sounds like the deer was traveling. From your stand, take a photo of the spot the deer was standing when you shot (this is called the hit site).

Wait for 30 Minutes

If you didn’t see the deer fall or clearly hear it fall, you job now is to wait. Just hang out in your stand and relax for 30 minutes. Set a 30-minute timer if you must. Climbing down early and rushing the blood trailing job is a good way to bump (scare off) a mortally hit deer. Bumped deer can run a far way and are often impossible to recover. Do not make this mistake. 

Call for Help

If you have hunting buddies or even a friend who likes the outdoors, now is a good time to call them. It’s much easier to blood trail a deer with a little help. Plus, when you find your deer, it’s nice to have a friend to help drag it out.  

Analyze the Hit Site

After a full 30 minutes, climb down from your stand or leave your blind and go directly to the hit site (the spot the deer was standing when you shot). Look for blood and look for you arrow. Bright red blood with bubbles in it typically means a lung shot. If you find your arrow and it’s covered in bright red blood with some bubbles, this is a very good sign. Mark the spot of first blood.

Now, follow the blood trail slowly and carefully. A deer that was shot through both lungs (and the heart) will bleed profusely. The trail should be relatively easy to follow. Still, take your time and leave trail markers every 20 yards or so to mark the trail. Within about 100 to 150 yards, you should find your deer.

Marginal Hits

If you comb the hit site and don’t find an obvious splotch of blood, or if you find blood that smells, rank and gutty (or has green slicks in it) then you’ve likely made a marginal hit. Quietly, and I mean very quietly, work your way toward the spot you last saw the deer. If there’s still a poor blood trail, or signs of a gut shot, it’s best to pull out and leave the woods. You should wait several hours, and likely overnight, before continuing the search. A gut shot deer can take hours to expire, bumping it means you might never recover it. Many states have volunteer blood trailing dog programs. Calling in an experienced blood tracker with a dog can be incredibly helpful for a new bowhunter. Tracking a marginally hit deer is a real challenge that even experienced hunters struggle with. For more information, click on the links below.

• 6 Blood Trailing Lessons Learned from Tracking Dogs
• 10 Myths About Blood Trailing Deer
• How to Bloodtrail and Track Wounded Deer
  

What it Means to Be a Bowhunter

The best bowhunters are patient, thoughtful woodsmen. They’re excellent shots on the range and in the field. And more than anything, they enjoy being in the woods and trying to get close to the animals they pursue. Bowhunting takes more practice and attention to detail than other types of hunting. Becoming a bowhunter means committing to mastering a craft. If that sounds like fun to you, then welcome to the club. We’re glad to have you.

The post How to Bow Hunt Deer appeared first on Outdoor Life.

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Wisconsinite Bill Foster arrowed a huge black bear in September 2022 that officially ties the state record for the largest black bear ever taken with a bow. It also ties the No. 4 all-time black bear in the Pope & Young record book. A group of big game scorers from several record-keeping agencies met multiple times over the winter to confirm the new record.

A panel of local scorers with the Wisconsin Buck and Bear Club first measured the bear’s skull in November and gave it a score of 22 11/16 inches. This matched the standing state record for a bow-killed black bear, which was taken from Chippewa County in 2003 by Duane Helland. It also made Foster’s bear an all-time top five animal in the P&Y book, which required him to send the skull to the organization in January and again in February to be panel scored at the Reno convention.

“They have confirmed the score, and I can officially say I have a trophy that sits at No. 4 all time in the Pope & Yound record books,” Foster wrote in an April Facebook post. “It’s also the largest black bear at the convention and the largest taken since I believe 2015.”

Foster, 45, harvested his bear on Sept. 8 during the third day of the state’s fall black bear season. He used bait to draw the bear into bow range and killed it on private land in northwestern Burnett County near the Minnesota state line.

“I had a trail camera out over a bait pile, which is legal in Wisconsin, and first got pictures of him on Sept. 6,” Foster tells Outdoor Life. “A visiting friend of mine, Scottie Layman from Tennessee, sat in that stand on opening evening, and he shot a 250-pound bear that may be large enough for Pope & Young.”

The 250-pounder was a great bear, but it wasn’t nearly as big as the one Foster had seen in the trail camera photos. He hunted over the same bait pile from the same stand the following morning and saw nothing. But when he returned to the stand that evening, the huge bear finally showed itself.

“I spotted the bear beyond my bait pile, and he was nervous because he was coming in downwind,” says Foster, who was shooting an Obsession Turmoil bow with a 62-pound draw. “I knew I had to take the first good shot I had because I sensed he was going to wind me and spook. He offered a perfect shot at 28 yards, and I took it.”

Read Next: A 7-Year-Old Boy’s First Bear

Foster’s arrow, tipped with a Slick Trick fixed broadhead, hit the bear behind the shoulder and made a complete pass through. He found the bear dead only 45 yards away from where he’d shot it.

The bear weighed 478 pounds dressed (with an estimated live weight of 552 pounds), and Foster says he’s having a full-body mount done. When asked what kind of bait he used to bring the bear into range, he chuckles.

“I crushed a bunch of Jolly Rancher candies,” Foster says. “Bears just love ‘em.”

The post Bowhunter Officially Ties Wisconsin State Record for Largest Black Bear appeared first on Outdoor Life.

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LYING THERE on our bellies, we could stare over the brink of the precipice and figure how long it would take a boulder, pried loose from the top, to reach the sink of the valley below. Several seconds, probably. Through our 6X binoculars we watched an osprey hover over the wind-scuffed waters of Last Man Lake, then power-dive and come up with what looked like a half-pound rainbow trout in its claws. Without the binoculars we couldn’t see the fish hawk at all. That’s how high we were. 

Northward, the 10,500-foot spire of Mount Tatlow seemed almost within hand touch. But that was only a trick of the clear altitude to which our goat had led us; Tatlow was a full 10 miles away as the crow flies. 

Yes, we could see many things from the sheer spine of the cliff, things both near and far, but we could not see the goat. I wasn’t surprised, for I had never expected we would. “Bit exasperating, isn’t it?” The Englishman had rolled over and now lay on his back, propped on his elbows. The remark came in his usual good-natured Oxford accent but I knew it barely covered the frustration that was eating him. And there was sound reason for that frustration. Three days in a row we had come out after the old man of the cliff, and three times in a row he had eluded us. We had yet to fire a shot. 

At first we tried to take him from below. I should have known better, for previous experience there in the Chilcotin district of British Columbia had taught me that not often will a goat be taken from below. But we tried it—zigzagged up from the valley floor until we stood at the base of the palisade upon which the goat bedded. From its shale-littered base it reared 2,500 feet above us, its wall as vertical as that of a skyscraper and made almost as smooth by centuries of spring run-offs and autumnal winds. 

About halfway up the palisade the goat stared down from its precarious perch on a ledge. 

Next we tried an approach from the east, more wishfully than wisely. Since there was a half-mile strip of shale that somehow had to be crossed in full view of the goat before we could get within even doubtful range, our effort was barren of result. 

On the morning of this third day we’d left camp with the intention of climbing to the top of the mountain and working around until we were immediately above the goat. For me the spark of hope burned mighty low, for I judged that the ledge upon which the goat slept was a good 1,000 feet below the top. And I doubted that we’d be able to see it from above. 

But the Englishman was stubborn and determined, so we sweated, puffed, and cursed our way up the mountain-again to taste the bitter fruit of defeat. I studied this scion of the British aristocracy whose weightiest concern at the moment was to get within range of an old billy goat. His 6-foot 1½-inch frame toted 170 pounds of healthy flesh and muscle. And he was no novice in the trickier, finer points of big-game stalking. I wasn’t surprised to learn he’d been to the Austrian Alps for chamois, which are almost as elusive, he told me, as our own Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep. 

Half-heartedly now I said, “We could settle for some other goat.” 

The retort bounced back like a rifle shot: “And admit the beast has us whipped? No. We’ll not break off the engagement this early.” 

That was the heart of the matter. The British will not recognize defeat even when it laps at the shores of their isle. Being English-born myself I can speak with some authority. 

At the outset he hadn’t wanted a second goat trophy any more than I wanted the sword Excalibur. He’d crossed an ocean and a continent for just one thing: a bighorn ram with horns no less than 40 inches in curl and 15 around the base. He’d hired me for a 28-day hunt and we’d spent seven of the days in getting his trophy. On our 10th day a single 180-grain bullet from his .303 British rifle got him a mountain goat with black, tapering prongs that were 9¾ inches long. I told him that by law he was entitled to another but he shrugged it off. 

Neither was he interested in mule deer, moose, or bear. So with our thoughts on fishing, we had dropped back down into the valleys and pitched camp on the north shore of Last Man Lake, whose trout are totally uncivilized and strike at anything remotely resembling a fly. 

Across the lake, on the southern shore, the cliff reared abruptly toward the September sky. And the goat was there on its face when we moved in to set up camp. Out of habit I uncased my binoculars and focused them on the cliff. “An old buster,” I said aloud. “Horns run maybe 10 inches or better.” 

“What sort of fly shall we use?” asked the Englishman. 

“Fly?” I echoed. “Shucks, they’ll swallow a naked hook.” 

The sun had set and shadows enveloped the rock when the goat got up out of his bed on the sheer cliff. For several seconds he stood like a statue, peering down at our camp. Then he slowly descended the rock and disappeared into a small patch of junipers 300 feet below his bed. 

By sunup next morning he was back in the bed, and in the clear morning light my binoculars revealed how he had reached that ledge on the cliff. From the juniper patch a narrow ribbon of trail ran up to the ledge and then corkscrewed crazily skyward, branching out like a three-tined pitchfork where the west contour of the rock wall met a drab shale slide. The mere thought of any living thing moving to and fro over such a dubious footpath chilled me. 

The Englishman squinted up at the cliff and observed, “Bit inaccessible, isn’t he?” That was putting it mildly. Then he added, “Just how would we tackle the job of taking him?” 

That’s when I blundered. “Impossible!” I blurted out. 

The Englishman’s eyebrows went up. “Impossible?” There was a challenge in his voice if I ever heard one. 

But it was too late to retreat. “As long as he stays on that ledge by day,” I said, “and feeds and waters in the juniper by night, he’s as safe as a hibernating groundhog.” 

For the next 10 minutes the Englishman was silent as his glasses raked the cliff. Then they dropped to the juniper patch and held steady. “Yes,” I heard him say. “There’s a rill in the brush.” By “rill” he meant a spring. He dropped his glasses to to his chest and said, “Y’know, he presents a bit of a problem, but I think it’s one we might solve. Anyway, we’re going to try.” 

You couldn’t argue with that tone of voice…

WE WERE AT the top of the cliff. At first it seemed physically impossible to descend the chimney which rose from the juniper patch where the goat fed and watered. At its top the chimney was a mere fissure in the cliff but it widened out, funnellike, as it dropped. We had inspected the chimney earlier in the day and decided that even if one could climb clear down it to the junipers, no useful purpose would be served. The feeding habits of the goat were as punctual as the chimes of Big Ben; when he moved off the cliff and into the junipers it was far too dark to see through any type of sight. 

Now we came back to the rim of the chimney and stopped. The Englishman examined it again and said thoughtfully, “There’s a foothold here, another one there. All in all, I’d wager a £5 note I could get down the blessed thing and into the brush.” 

“It’s possible,” I conceded. Then bleakly I reminded him, “Suppose you do, and see the goat on the cliff. Suppose he’s in range. What happens when you shoot? He goes off that rock into space, and by the time we catch up to him at the bottom there’s devil a splinter of horn left. You’d be risking neck or limb for a trophy you wouldn’t take home.” 

The Englishman’s steady gaze made me uneasy. After a moment he said, “He won’t be on the ledge if and when I shoot. He’ll be down in the junipers.” 

This was getting silly, so I said tartly, “Never in daylight will he be in the junipers.” 

“He hasn’t been so far. But supposing someone moved down along that cliff trail above his bed?” The Englishman’s eyes quizzed mine, and now the pattern of his plan took bold, definite shape. 

SLOWLY I SAID, “You mean someone traveling the face of that cliff from top to bottom?” 

“There’s no other way,” he said simply.

I buttocked down onto the cold ground, sudden weakness in my knees. Making an effort to keep my voice steady I said, “Go on.” 

The Englishman took a .303 cartridge from his pocket and traced a line in the shale. “Right here,” he said, “the trail leaves the junipers. And here”—the shell formed a circle—“is the bed. Here”—continuing the single line—“the trail leaves the ledge and climbs the rock wall.” With the shell he traced two lines branching from the single one. “Here are the forks on the slide. We can’t do anything with them, even if we could induce the old gentleman to go up there. So he’s got to come down to the junipers.”

As simple as that! “Who,” I demanded, “is going to send him down?” 

“You.” 

I! I come around the face of that cliff on a trail that only a mountain sheep, goat, or little red fox would dare travel! I, who dreaded high places. 

I picked up that fear as an 11-year-old boy in rural England. At the time the collecting of birds’ eggs was a highly important matter to me, and I’d discovered the nest of a kestrel hawk some 60 feet up on the branches of an old elm that boasted very few limbs on the first 50 feet of its trunk. By swarming up a few feet here and clinging to a dead snag there, I was almost within reach of the nest when the branch on which I was perched snapped with a sickening crack. I was left dangling in space, unable to go higher, fearful of trying to move down. 

I soon realized I had to do something, so I began sliding down the trunk. Twenty-five feet from the ground I twisted my head and looked below. I sickened with fear, my arms and legs became numb, I lost my grip, and I fell. 

I came out of that deal with a fractured shoulder, two broken ribs, and a badly wrenched ankle. My hurts healed quickly but the psychological wound never did. Today, 40 years later, I’m still unable to look over the edge of a precipice or crag without experiencing the same sickening of the stomach I felt as I clung to the elm. 

Apart from the highly questionable matter of my ability to navigate the trail, there was a certain soundness to the Englishman’s plan. With care, he might well be able to descend the chimney. And the hint of danger from above should send the goat right down into the ambush. 

But the trail! A writhing eight-inchwide thread nicking the face of the cliff. Sheer perpendicular rock above, sheer perpendicular rock below. And never a tree limb or tuft of grass on which to get a handhold. I wanted to shout, “No—not for all the goats in these hills!” 

The Englishman’s eyes were still on mine. “Well?” he said. 

“Too late this afternoon,” I replied. He nodded. “But if he’s still there in the morning?” 

“Let us cross that one when we come to it.”

THERE WAS STILL a chance—an honorable avenue of escape. The goat might be gone from the face of the cliff by the dawn of another day. 

In the morning we sat by the campfire, dawdling over coffee, waiting for the mist to clear in the valley. I was nibbling furiously at my fingernails when the sun broke through and the dark face of the rock slowly took shape. As I found it in my glasses I muffled a deep sigh. There on the ledge, in bold relief against the somber background, was a single blob of white…

I hunkered back on my heels and watched the Englishman start down the chimney. There was nothing easy about his end of the bargain. It called for iron muscles, steady nerves, and only a passing acquaintance with the word fear. Slowly, as if he were being lowered on a rope, he slid down the crevasse, his hands groping cautiously for cracks or outcroppings that offered holds for hand or foot. I waited at the top until he dropped out of the mouth of the funnel and, with a wave of the hand, melted into the junipers. 

Then I got up, hitched the sling of my .303 Ross tightly over my shoulder, and moved flaggingly along the skyline. 

That morning the wind was out of the north and it was erratic, now barely rustling the stalks of alpine weeds, now coming with a force that sent clouds of granulated shale billowing away. With each sudden blast I paused, listening. Down on the face of the cliff it seemed that a thousand doors banged shut each time the wind flailed that solid, impregnable barrier. 

The rimrock petered out and I moved onto the shale slide. Though tilted at an angle of 70° or 80° there was nothing challenging about it, for it was littered with rock fragments that offered plenty of handholds and footholds. I’d been up and down a hundred similar slides in the years I’d been hunting big game. 

Now I moved onto the trail that formed the upper tine of the fork and drew steadily nearer the rock wall where the goat had his bed. I hoped—almost prayed—that for the next 15 or 20 minutes the spasmodic bursts of wind would be held on leash. Fifteen or 20 minutes, I kept telling myself—that’s all the time the job should take. 

Then the three prongs met and I was on the main trail. I could no longer see the sun—the cliffside hid it. A sudden rush of wind pressed me against the wall, and I flattened there, waiting for a lull. I didn’t dare move until the wind subsided.

Suddenly I was beset by an urge to glance downward, to look at the tents across the lake. But I fought the temptation. I must not look below, for just a glance would nauseate the stomach, buckle the legs, almost shut off the air from my lungs. Look above or ahead—yes. Below, never.

The wind died down. With my outstretched hand palming the rock wall I moved forward. Shut off from the sun I should have felt cold there on the cliff, but beads of sweat formed on my forehead and my underclothes were clammy against my skin. 

A new thought rose to torment me. What if the goat should decide to come up that trail? Then he and I would face each other in a spot where neither could turn back. Huddled against the rock I gingerly unslung my rifle and bolted a cartridge into its chamber. Then, having doubly checked the safety, I reshouldered the rifle and inched forward. 

I gained considerably more footage before another rush of wind plastered me against the cliff. Again a magnet was plucking at my eyes, trying to draw them below. I wanted badly to flash just one quick downward glance, to find a landmark that might give me a clue as to how much of my hellish journey still lay ahead. But I resisted stubbornly and kept my eyes on the wall. 

Then I was tempted from a new side. Why go onward another step? Why not shout now? Surely the goat would hear me, even though I was above him and a considerable distance away. He’d hear me and move down into the sights of the Englishman’s rifle. Then I could turn back and claw my way to the top. 

AGAIN I FOUGHT TEMPTATION. I was a guide, accepting good money from a hunter. He, in return, had every right to expect that I’d leave nothing to chance. The acoustical qualities of a mountain of solid rock are unpredictable. If I shouted now, the goat would hear me. But could he determine where the shout came from? Wasn’t there a chance that instead of going down he might come up? 

I couldn’t do a halfway job; I had to keep moving down the trail until I was close enough to the billy to leave him no alternative but to go down. 

For the next three minutes the wind pinned me motionless on the ledge. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it subsided. I was able to move again. I found that by taking short, quick steps I could balance myself far more easily than by sliding along like a snail. I was wearing rubbers over Indian moccasins and they gripped the rock firmly.

Between the goat’s bed and the prong trails, I knew, the ledge made three separate loops around as many shoulders of rock. I’d got around two of them and the third was directly ahead. I moved nearer to it, then halted. If the goat had not moved from his bed I was now within 100 yards of him. 

A large fragment of slide rock lay across the trail and I toed it off into space. I could hear it strike the cliff again and again as it hurtled toward the bottom, and I listened intently. From far to the north, somewhere around Tatlow’s snow-capped spire, came the muted drone of the wind. There was no other sound save the beating of my heart. 

Somehow I dreaded rounding that final loop to see the goat ahead of me. There is a belief among the Chilcotin Indians—maybe it’s a superstition—that when a mountain goat is cornered on one of his trails he fears neither man nor beast, and will butt either over the edge. True or not, I now had no choice. So I filled my lungs with air and roared, “Look out below!” 

I heard the faint tinkle of rocks on the cliff, then the unmistakable thud of hoofs. To me, sweating it out on the ledge, time seemed immeasurable. But perhaps only a minute passed before I heard the muffled roar of the Englishman’s rifle. One, two, three quick shots—the volley you hear when someone is shooting at a fast-moving target. Now, for the first time since leaving the slide, I dared a glance below.

I saw the frothing waters of the lake, the tents on the farther shore, the dark mass of spruce girdling its marge. How many times in the past had I cursed windfalls? How many times had I fretted at the density of brush as I circled the tracks of a buck? Now that timber seemed a friendly haven where one could move from tree to tree without care where one placed one’s feet.

I rounded the final loop and stared down at the juniper patch. I could see the goat, lying on its side, and the Englishman standing over it. He glanced up at me, waved, and called, “Well done.” I shrugged the rifle into a more comfortable position and edged down the trail to join him.

This story, Flesh and Rock, originally ran in the June 1953 issue of Outdoor Life. Read more OL+ stories.

The post Is It a Guide’s Job to Risk His Life for a Client? appeared first on Outdoor Life.

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Officials with the Houston County Sheriff’s Office in southeast Alabama are warning hunters about a scam letter that recently popped up on Facebook. The counterfeit letter, which claimed to be from the governor’s office, stated that cellular trail cams would be banned throughout the state beginning this deer season. It explained that the Alabama legislature made the decision out of a growing concern for public safety, and it listed the penalties for the first, second, and third violations of the new rule. The letter even included a fake signature from Gov. Kay Ivey.

“This letter is FALSE and has no truth to it,” HCSO officials wrote in a Facebook post earlier this week.

The prankster went to a lot of trouble to create what might look like an official letter to a casual reader, but there are several red flags—including the scammer’s poor grammar. The very first sentence contains a basic spelling error. (The second word in this sentence should be “effect,” not “affect.”) Apart from poor grammar throughout, the language in the letter is often difficult to follow and nonsensical, although that alone doesn’t rule it out as a government document.

Read Next: The Best Cellular Trail Cameras of 2023, Tested and Reviewed

We could go on, but this would be an even bigger waste of time than mocking up a fancy letter only to riddle it with elementary errors. Fortunately, the folks at the local sheriff’s office noticed these mistakes on their own, although it’s unclear where the letter, dated May 8, was originally posted.

Fake News Abounds on Social Media

The Alabama scam letter is a reminder that misinformation runs rampant on social media. It’s also not the first “fake news” post that has targeted deer hunters in the South as of late. Last month, the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources had to debunk a Facebook post that claimed the agency was offering hunters cash rewards for killing collared deer.

“Be cautious of what you see on social media,” the agency warned.  

And in April, a satirical Facebook page named “Arkansas Game Fish” posted a fake arrest report about a 43-year-old woman who was giving whitetails meth and training them to attack hunters.

“At the time of the arrest Watkins was in possession of several grams of meth, four deer and many stolen broken electronics,” the satirical post reads. “Attention was drawn to Watkins when she began giving meth to the young deer and they were caught rummaging through people’s garages and back porches.”

Outlandish? No doubt. But at least the grammar is sound. Well, mostly.

The post A Scammer Forged a Letter from Alabama’s Governor That Banned Cellular Trail Cameras appeared first on Outdoor Life.

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