Our readers' hands-on spirit is reflected in the magazine's comprehensive gear tests and personal adventure stories. Whether shopping for a new rifle or thirsting for exciting adventure tales, Outdoor Life is the ultimate resource.
“WE PAY CASH for true adventures.” Outdoor Life first published a version of this long-running deal in June 1940, along with a 12-panel comic strip titled “This Happened to Me!” That inaugural comic was printed in black and white, and it depicted a dozen crocodiles attacking a reader’s canoe in Mozambique. We announced that the story was the first in a new series, and we asked readers to send us their “actual, true-life” hunting and fishing experiences (“thrilling or humorous”) so our artists could illustrate them. Eight decades later, This Happened to Me is arguably our readers’ all-time favorite department. Its popularity has less to do with the money (people got sick of filling out tax forms in the mid-2010s) and more to do with seeing themselves appear in print…
I HAD ALL the primal cuts spread out on the table and countertop. I was only a few sips into my first can of beer. My knife was still shaving-sharp as I sliced away silver skin from a backstrap. What a nice way to spend an afternoon. Then I heard a knock on the door of my tiny Brooklyn apartment. Surprised, and a little annoyed by the disruption, I wiped deer meat from my hands. I cracked the door open until it hit the chain lock and saw a short, middle-aged man standing in the hallway. “What’s up?” I asked, doing my best impersonation of an indignant New Yorker. “Have you seen Wilson today?” he asked. “I’m Wilson’s friend.” Wilson was an older man with a potbelly and a wispy…
THE BEEF GOT REAL when they cut the lines on our boats and sent them drifting down the Alagnak River toward Kvichak Bay. Fortunately for us, the boats didn’t make it very far before spinning out of the main current and jamming up broadside against a beaver lodge. The two unmanned skiffs were spotted the following morning by our chief pilot, who was flying a load of cargo back from King Salmon. While another pilot might’ve worried if there were any fishing guides to rescue, he recognized the boats and knew we were all back at camp for the day. He also knew about the budding feud between our crew on the Kvichak and a rival lodge here on the Alagnak, but this was a big step up from idle…
A LONE DOVE soared over us, and Kent abruptly stopped his Tacoma on the side of a dirt road. He and I debated whether to get out. We’d hiked 5 miles that morning in futile pursuit of doves and jackrabbits and were about ready to call it a day. But then the dove landed atop a Joshua tree, maybe 50 yards away. We didn’t want to leave empty-handed, so we grabbed our shotguns and stepped out to turn that symbol of peace into an afternoon snack. We spread out and moved on the dove. As we drew closer, I casually clocked Kent’s location on my right. Finally, we arrived in range. Kent gave me a thumbs-up. I clicked my safety off, took a few more steps, and checked Kent’s position…
BY THE TIME we started glassing for moose the morning of Sept. 17, I figured the worst of our troubles was over. I was with my buddy Cal Stefanko and his dad, Craig, and this was a bucket-list trip: my first fly-in Alaska moose hunt. It was a do-it-yourself hunt, and the only help we had was from the air taxi that had dropped us and our gear at the lake we were camped by. I was lucky enough to kill a big bull during our first day of hunting on Sept. 13, but I quickly learned how difficult it is to pack such a massive animal across that unforgiving and uneven country. I had shot the moose 2.5 miles away from where we were camped, and it took us…
WHAT STARTED as a normal morning in the deer woods turned out to be the scariest day of my life. It was March 2020, and my friend Billy Phillips and I were hunting one of the suburban properties we have permission on in northern Virginia. Our state has an extended urban antlerless season that ends in late March, and this particular hunt occurred right after the state of Virginia announced the “Stay at Home” order during the early Covid-19 pandemic. That particular order allowed you to leave home for a couple of reasons, and hunting was one of them. We were hunting in a neighborhood of multimillion-dollar homes on three- to five-acre lots, and the property we were on that day was a double lot of 10 acres total. In…
