Some people are born with an untamable wanderlust and thirst for adventure, such that no conventional office job or traditional nine-to-five will ever satisfy them. Britt Longoria embodies this mentality. Raised on the southern coast of Maine, she grew up training bird dogs with her father and hunting upland birds and waterfowl, dreaming of one
If you’ve tried to buy a box of factory ammo in the past six months, or even components like powder or bullets for handloading, you’ve undoubtedly encountered bare shelves and strict quantity limitations on whatever happens to still be available. For competitive shooters, hunters, and plinkers alike, this has been an enduring source of frustration.
I’ll admit, after a beer or two, my perception of my own strength and toughness can get a bit inflated. But I can recall no time in my life when I’ve ever considered myself more than a would-be morsel to a 600-pound fur-covered battering ram with claws and teeth, otherwise known as a grizzly bear.
When it comes to hunting, I’m a bit of a traditionalist. My go-to deer rifle is a single-shot Ruger No. 1. When hunting in bear territory, I’m the guy hauling around a big-bore single-action revolver on his hip rather than a polymer-framed semi-automatic. I’m one of those romantics who still believes the old ways often
The canine lymphoma came on unexpectedly and swiftly. In a few short days my little buddy Brisco went from his usual plucky self to an emaciated shadow who could barely stand. I stayed by his side until his very last breath. I get choked up thinking about it even now, a year later. To those
My dad’s little Winchester Model 94 Trapper always struck me as a petite, perhaps slightly anemic rifle. The short-barreled lever-action is lightweight and chambered to the gentle-shooting .30-30 Winchester. I’d shot plenty of .30-30s before. This little guy shouldn’t be any different, I thought, tucking it into my shoulder at the range. Then, someone punched
