The Art Of Setting-Up On Turkeys

By Blaine Cardilli

~Ever wonder why some set ups work and some don’t?~

As a die hard turkey hunter and seminar speaker for both “Hunters Specialties” and “Northwoods Adventures TV“, I get asked a multitude of questions each season on how to set up on turkeys. Do you use a decoy? Do you roost birds every time? Do you ever “run-and-gun”? How important is specific camouflage design? Well, for me, the most important aspect of the hunt is a good set up so let’s start there.

Here in the Northeast, our turkeys tend to start gobbling in mid-March and strutting activity becomes widespread about the same time. It’s then that I’ll put my scouting tactics into overdrive, even though the season doesn’t open until the very end of April. Why? Because good preparation will always tip the odds in my favor. 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 »

Lost Hunter’s Ordeal. Is It Too Unbelievable?

I may get ridiculed for some of what I am about to write but I have to at least ask the questions that I’m sure many of us have asked. First, let me say that I am extremely happy that 53-year old Steven Wright of Woodford, Vermont, who was lost in the Maine woods near Tumbledown Mountain during a recent hunting triop, was found safe and has since recovered.

Wright was hunting this area with two other buddies during a snowstorm. When Wright decided it was time to head back to the truck and meet up with his companions, a series of events caused him to spend three days and two nights in the woods. 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 »