Explaining my predicament, he was more gracious than I appreciated at the time. Together we drove in his rusted out brown F150 back to where my deer still lay. He teased me a little, but mostly he took care of the mess.

To say he wanted to hunt badly would be an understatement. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it a reality. Until we did. Despite his enthusiasm he conked out in the backseat as we headed down progressively smaller roads, for an evening deer hunt. We pulled up to the ranch and began glassing. Ignoring, Read More

By Garrett Munson When your primary job each fall is to fill the freezer with wild game meat for your family to eat for the coming year, you know you live a good life – a life many fellow Montanans cherish. My young kids are not too interested in hunting stories – they want results – so the job pressure is, Read More

They called him Deadeye Dan, although that was before I came along. He was a great shot. Dropping whitetails on the run as they darted between cottonwoods, elk in the fog at three hundred yard. Always just one shot. By the time I was able to tag along on hunts those days were long, Read More

Raising my gun at the sound of wing beats, I hoped for a wild rooster to flush from the under brush. Nothing materialized. Moments later my precocious pup came out of the brush with a hen that was a little too slow getting off the ground. It was Christmas Eve 2008 and I was, Read More

I knew dawn, when it finally broke, would be anemic and gray – little help in driving the cold from the house. Too bad, I thought. I needed all the help I could get. The sun hadn’t cleared the mountain yet, but already I was behind: behind on the errands, the house chores, the, Read More

Someone once described my brother Ryan as a combination of Greg Brady and Davy Crockett. An odd pairing, yes, but in some ways it made a lot of sense. At age 12, Ryan was on the Pro Staff for Matthews bows and one of the best under-18 archers in the country. As a chubby-cheeked, Read More

I lived in a big sprawling metropolis for a number of years after college.  For most of that time my commute – 20 miles: 45 to 120 minutes depending on traffic – was the defining element of each day.  One Thursday, 3 days before Christmas, during a snow storm and the afternoon rush, a, Read More

At 60 power, it felt like the deer were in my lap, like the scope was transporting me across the ravine and into the herd.

You left the house at 4 a.m. By 5 you were hiking through the frozen darkness. 6 found you prepared, your body and your gear positioned just so. The blackness is absolute, the limestone at your back cold and sharp. A favorable wind brings imagined smells to your nose, half-heard noises to your ears, Read More