By David Draper

My girlfriend, T. Rebel, tried to kill me once.

Her weapon of choice? Exploding meatloaf. She claims it was an accident, but I know better. The whole scene went down like this.

She offered to cook me dinner, which should have tipped me off from the start. I do most of the cooking, so this was a rare occurrence indeed. As the meal was coming together, I was in the kitchen helping out, which generally consists of me saying, “That’s not how I would do it.” (I never said she didn’t have a good motive.) She pulled the meatloaf from the oven, sat it on the stovetop and asked me to stir the risotto simmering on the back burner. I started to lean over the meatloaf when I realized there wasn’t a spoon in the pot. [ Read Full Post ]

By David E. Petzal

After my fragile form stopped shaking from the laughter induced by Frank Bruni’s “Day of the Hunter,” a sober realization crept over me. Despite our differing lifestyles and world views, we do agree about something: He wrote: “It was impossible for me not to be nervous around guns..”

Same here. There are a number of words you could substitute for “nervous” that would perhaps be more accurate: “Vigilant,” “Watchful,” and “Suspicious” are three. I’m highly suspicious of all guns at all times because, like all experienced hunters, I’ve had a good many demonstrations of what guns can do. [ Read Full Post ]

By David Draper

As black bears search the spring woods for forage after hibernation, they can be a thrill to both stalk and call into range.

Is it Big Enough? To determine if a bruin is worth going after, look for ears that sit on the side of its head and a creased forehead. Broadside, a trophy bear will have a belly that hangs low to the ground.

This month, black bears should be out in full force as they emerge from their dens to refuel on spring greens and the remnants of last autumn’s berries. Spotting these hungry bears is usually the easy part; just look for black spots dotting slides, clear-cuts, and mountain meadows or munching along beaches and logging roads. Once you’ve located a suitable bear, choose from this pair of pulse-pounding tactics—for both bow and rifle hunters—or use both. [ Read Full Post ]

By Dave Hurteau

I got the phone call on Friday and spent the weekend not really believing it. But Monday’s usual slap hit like a club, and there’s no getting around the brutally sad truth that Guthrie, as everyone called him, is gone—died in his sleep Friday morning, leaving his wife and two young children.

Known best for his work with Petersen’s Hunting, Guns & Ammo, Shooting Times, and a variety of other titles, as well as Guns & Ammo TV, Guthrie had just begun doing stuff for F&S, including the March feature story “The 1,000-Yard Shot,” which he and I worked on together. I was hoping he’d do much more for us down the road, because he was very, very good, and because I liked him, and I think you—F&S’s readers—would have liked him, too.

[ Read Full Post ]

By Phil Bourjaily

In the comments to the 28 gauge Mystique post, HogBlog asked me why it is I shoot non-toxic shot almost exclusively in the uplands. The goose in this picture is a big part of the reason. I was pheasant hunting on a place I often hunt geese and suspected one might fly over too low for its own good.  One did. Because I had my waterfowl stamp, and my gun was plugged and loaded with HeviShot and goose season was open, I was able to legally add the goose to the rooster I shot that day, and there is nothing I like better for dinner than goose. [ Read Full Post ]

By Chad Love

About this time every year, when the redbuds start blooming, the toms start strutting and the white bass start running upriver, I must deal with coat issues. My chessie has one of the densest coats I’ve ever seen, far thicker than any of my other chessies, my old lab or virtually any other dog south of the Arctic circle. I've always joked that she’s the musk oxen of the canine world. I don't complain during duck season, because neither icy water nor thorn-tipped thickets can penetrate her coat. But eventually, the bill for that dense coat comes due, in the form of a period of time in the spring when her winter coat starts blowing out. It starts with a dull sheen to her coat, perhaps a little tuft here and there, floating on the breeze, caught on the fence. But like the first few gentle flakes that precede a raging blizzard, those innocent-looking fuzzballs are the advance guard, the shock troops for an annual deluge known around my house simply as “the shed.” [ Read Full Post ]