by Cody Koehler
I thought I was ready to bury a broadhead.
After sinking hundreds of field tips into foam, I wanted a whitetail to stop broadside. Intrigued by the challenge of getting close, I followed all the conventional off-season advice for rookie bow hunters. Arrow after arrow into a backyard block built a consistent draw and a stone cold release. I shot sitting, standing, and at the limits of my sight pins. Close range came easy, and I was ready.
by Bob Zaiglin
To capture a mature buck on film is an adrenalin rush. A quality image of a uniquely antlered deer is as rewarding as harvesting the animal; after all, if one can film a deer up close, they most certainly could have dispatched the animal.
I don’t remember drawing my handgun. My mind caught up with my body when I fired the second point blank shot into the raging beast’s face.
Airguns used to be for popping squirrels, pine cones and the occasional bat that always seemed to get through the flu and into our living room at least once every few winters. And yup, I’ve been shot in the ass with one and for the next 30 years I figured that all an airgun could do was bruise my britches.
by Bob Zaiglin
I am often asked just what my favorite hunt was, but that is hard to define as I relish the unique memories of each and every one of them. And although I enjoy the pursuit of whitetails, my hunting experiences have entailed a variety of species from Cape buffalo on the Dark Continent to some physically challenging sheep hunts in the high country.