Bowhunter brings you expert advice from legendary Bowhunters! Each issue is filled with updates from major bowhunting organizations, coverage of bowhunting locations across North America, complete coverage of the sport and much more.
MY FIRST SEASON of bowhunting was the fall of 1981. I shot a one-antlered buck on a late-season hunt on the Tewaukon National Wildlife Refuge in southeast North Dakota. The next year, some buddies and I ventured off to the western part of the state to bowhunt mule deer. It was my first “special” bowhunt. Special can mean many things, but if you travel away from your home turf, even if it is in your home state, it’s special. One might argue that every hunt is special. I wouldn’t disagree, but my personal definition depends on whether I’m sleeping in my own bed. If not, it’s a special hunt. The following year, I was off to Montana to hunt elk, igniting a 40-year odyssey of special hunts that received a…
ALTHOUGH IT was 25 years ago this season, I remember my first Western bowhunt like it was yesterday. Not only was I greeted by a bugling bull elk on opening morning and got a crack at him, but four days later I was able to switch gears and put a sneak on a bedded, velvet-racked buck. Seeing that arrow arc over the brush and bury into his chest set the stage for many Western bowhunting seasons to come. The pack-out on that hunt is also something that is still burned into my mind. My secondhand, metal-framed pack dug into my back like daggers, and the average boots I chose to wear had my feet on fire. Sometimes you need to learn things the hard way, and it was on that…
MANY YEARS AGO, I was in Saskatchewan, enjoying an incredible trip hunting whitetails. One of my favorite things about hunting trips is spending time in camp getting to know my fellow hunters and guides. It was during that Saskatchewan hunt that I met guide Josh Belyea. I loved listening to Josh’s tales of guiding adventures. We clicked immediately, and we have been good friends ever since. It was in 2019, on yet another Saskatchewan hunt, that Josh told me he also guided hunters for woodland caribou in Newfoundland. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, because woodland caribou have always been my dream subspecies to hunt. And in that moment, the planning began for us to work together to make that dream a reality. Josh contacted the Newfoundland outfitter he…
In 2021, my good friend Darryl Amason was able to realize his goal of arrowing an Alaskan moose. That hunt didn’t lack for adventure and excitement. Darryl and I had located a good bull and snuck to within 300 yards. The rut was in full swing, and the bull had a cow with him. Our plan was to stalk a little closer, then for me to call the bull into bow range of Darryl. Just when we were both feeling like, “we got this,” I felt a slight breeze on my neck. The topography of the land was funneling the wind toward the moose, and it didn’t take long before the gig was up. A couple days later we were blessed to be looking through our binoculars at another nice…
THE RISING SUN cast a very unfamiliar purplish hue on the cloud deck as we slowly descended into the airspace above the colossal city. Dropping through the clouds into the oddly-colored haze above the mass of humanity felt bizarre. The atmosphere was alien-like, yet the forest surrounding the metropolis was an especially vibrant tint of green. It felt like I was on some kind of shuttle, descending into a strange, new world after completing a long, interplanetary voyage. Buenos Aires, Argentina, was certainly foreign to me, and with a total of 17 million humans in the region, I like it that way. Big cities and I don’t get along. Fortunately, this was merely a stopover to a far more comfortable rural destination. But first, I had to meet up with…
It is still pretty dark. I’m not sure if the clarity of the day is slowly coming up or my eyes got used to walking in the darkness. I try to control my heavy breathing so I can hear what’s happening around me. It is mid-September, and the first rain from the fall has not yet arrived. It’s probably a week too early for the peak of the rut, but it’s better to be too early than too late. I’m hoping to hear something before the light comes up, so I can move fast and position myself while I am still hard to spot. Far out in the distance, I think I hear a roar, but it’s so far away I am not sure if I’m making it up or…
