Outdoor Life Vol. 228, No. 2 - 2021

As the coronavirus pandemic still lingers, folks have come out from their homes to join the nauseating and never-ending conversation about how so many things have changed. Everything is digital now (including this magazine), and any sort of “important national conversation” is hosted on social media platforms. Oh, and good luck trying to buy a pickup truck or a box of .22 shells. The world, they say, will never be the same. Cool. We get it. Let’s, for a moment, consider some things that have not changed. Or at least not substantially. I’m talking about our traditions of hunting and fishing, of course. B.S., you might argue. Kids these days care only about video games and social media. Modern technology has ruined the spirit of hunting as we knew it. The good…

BACK IN THE DAY, it was easy. You tagged along with your dad whenever he went hunting and fishing. He taught you what you needed to know: knot tying, deer gutting, upland bird plucking, gun safety, shooting. You listened intently, dared not discount any of his perspectives, and tried your best to emulate his every action. Outdoor traditions were passed down from generation to generation like a handmade heirloom hunting knife. It was all so natural and straightforward. Nowadays it’s a little different. It takes effort, thought, and resolve to keep our traditions sharp and shiny. So as you read through this first chapter of our digital edition, think to yourself about how we all can do a better job of passing down our way of life to the next generation. The traditions…

THE SOUND OF THE DROPS hitting my rain jacket seemed to echo in my ears as I sat against the soggy oak tree, the lightweight sycamore-and-marblewood recurve resting in my lap, my arrow fletchings laden with water. The weather matched my mood. My first year as a traditional bowhunter had fallen far short of my expectations. I had never really been a fan of deer hunting in the rain, and after an hour in the misty downfall, I considered calling it quits and heading back to my truck. But this late in the season, that would feel too much like giving up on the whole thing rather than on just one hunt. So I resolved to stick it out a little longer, absorbed in my thoughts and feeling as gray as…

DAVE STREB’S TRISTAR 12-GAUGE wasn’t really one of those ultraspecial, fancy shotguns that you take out only once a year. Hell, it didn’t even have a scope or red-dot sight on it. It was just an everyday, everyman’s turkey gun. But it was Strebbie’s. “It’s a shooter,” is all he ever really said about the gun. “Dead on out to 50.” THE MAN “Gerald?” Only my Mom and Streb ever got away with calling me by my given name. “Happy New Year, buddy.” This phone call went exactly the same way every year. “Only 108 days left till turkey season. Get a shopping list together, brother. Oh yeah, it’s almost time.” For more than 20 springs in a row, Streb, who was the business manager at Quaker Boy game calls, made the six-hour drive from Cuba, New…

Any good sermon about quail hunting in the South starts in the Red Hills surrounding Thomasville, Georgia, and includes three legendary dogmen: Neal Carter Sr., Curtis Brooks Sr., and Joe Fryson. Those three men are the lifeblood of the Ga-Fla Shooting Dog Handlers Club (commonly called the Black Handlers Club), which runs its big field trial annually on the first Monday of March. This field trial has run for 40 years and includes some 30 pointing-dog handlers from all over the country. While you’ll see some truly incredible dog work (and some fine horse work too) at this field trial, it’s much more than a competition. It’s among these longleaf pines that we find a particular kind of sanctuary that nurtures the spirit of great bird dogs and the centuries-old traditions…

SOMETIMES HUNTING TRADITIONS are easier to lose than they are to maintain. They can disappear like a favorite knife slipping from a pocket. You don’t quite know where you lost it, only that it’s gone. But more often they fade with the subtlety of rust growing on a blade. After all, traditions survive because of our consistent efforts to keep them alive. And it can be difficult to muster the effort when work and everyday life get hectic. Even if the tradition is simply to get out there, sometimes it’s easier to skip that too. How conveniently the phrase We’ll just go next year slips from our mouths. Hunting traditions can be silly or serious, elaborate or simple. But to me, it’s not about my experience. It’s about creating a moment powerful…