Want Great Off-Season Hunting With The Kids?

Try “Peaslee Mountain Hunt Park” in Maine

By Blaine Cardilli

As a 48 year old hunter with more experiences than I can begin to remember, it’s strange that I never gave “hunt parks” or “game ranches” a second look until now. Like most, I’ve always enjoyed the challenges of free range hunting and must have gotten caught up in the “We hunt 100% wild, 100% fair chase” mode that is so prevalent in todays hunting circles. Now don’t get me wrong; I still prefer hunting the wide open forests and fields of this beautiful country, hands down, and as a member of the prostaff with “Northwoods Adventures TV” I have some great and varied opportunities nationwide, but at least now I can understand the allure of a true hunt park after having finally experienced one. Enter ‘Peaslee Mountain‘ and owner Forest Peaslee, of Jefferson, Maine. Read the story »

Duck Texas! VP Cheney’s In Town For Some Bird Hunting

Two years almost to the day, Vice President Dick Cheney is returning to the famed 50,000 South Texas ranch of Anne Armstrong, the site where he accidentally shot his hunting partner Harry Whittington. Read the story »

Dad’s Rifle - A Family Heirloom

By Bob Lane

In many hunting families, guns are handed down from generation to generation. When a family member no longer desires to, is unable to hunt, or is deceased, the rifles, pistols, and shotguns are often passed on to the hunting offspring or grandchildren of the former hunter. The sentimental value and memories attached to the firearms often far outweigh the monetary value of the guns themselves. Read the story »

Through Better Men than I

By Master Sargent Mike Sibley

I can hear their whispers wherever I go. “Control your breathing, concentrate on the blade, and squeeze.” “Feel your way along with your toes instead of watching your feet.” “Work your way down through that black-growth and you’ll find ‘em in that stand of beech.” So persistent are they that I sympathize with a schizophrenic who feels as if he’s never alone. Unlike him, my voices are not a psychotic delusion created by chemical imbalances crying out for the saving grace of lithium. Real men spoke those words and no amount of time or distance will ever silence them. They are my last connection to a past that I crave but know I’ll never see. They define the man who hears them. And I pray they shape the lives of my sons. Read the story »