Bryan Callen picks cactus needles out of Joe Rogan's ass after a hunt with Steven Rinella.
If you’re thinking this is your year to travel across state lines to hunt whitetails, you’d better start planning right now. It takes months to conduct the necessary due diligence so you don’t end up dropping serious coin on a non-resident license only to have the hunt totally flame out. Here’s the thing: most people start at the wrong point in the process. They’ll hear about Iowa’s giant bucks or how Kansas has tons of untouched walk-in ground...
The ice is out and I’m itching to get on smallmouths. The fact that I’ve been quarantining in my apartment with two roommates who can’t even talk fishing with me isn’t helping. Problem is, water temperatures are barely nudging 40 degrees. This means that although I’ve been daydreaming about big smallies in shallow water, of post-spawn feeding frenzies, and that definitive smalljaw thump, I have to face reality—the fish are going to be hunkered...
I’d just strapped knee-high gaiters over my boots in the bunk-lined forecastle when a rifle shot rang out from the bow deck directly above my head. After settling my heart rate I climbed into the F/V Kylia’s tophouse to hear what happened. It was 9:00 a.m., but the pale pink late November sunrise had only begun to define Kodiak’s colossal mountains and beachheads. Just enough light in fact, for Kris to spot a three-point Sitka blacktail wandering...