The buck, an honest thirty incher, now hangs in my garage. Grandpa is gone. So now I tell the story to my kids… when they’re not out building their own memories with their grandpa.

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

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 yards. Always just one shot. By the time I was able to tag along on hunts those days were long, Read More