Hunting Stories Archives | Prima Outdoor
Taygen Made in New Zealand

Taygen Made in New Zealand

By: Taygen Hughes I awaken from my sleep in the run-down cabin on my friend’s sheep farm just as the natural light of the dawn sneaks through the cracks in the wall, gradually making out the spider’s webs and rat feces on the aged wooden panels and rusted corrugated iron. Below my bunk bed the choir (slightly off-key) of snoring men seek warmth in their sleeping bags as they fight to keep daylight at bay. Peering out the doorless doorway I make out the last moments of the Southern Cross, stars waning in a sky turning from black to deep azure. A crisp morning air touches my exposed face and I can smell its freshness. Just a few minutes more I decide, a few minutes before I unzip my bag and face the cold. That’s when I hear it; the powerful deep throated roar of a stag in the distance. I’m not alone, for suddenly all snoring stops and the room goes quiet. The morning roar of a red stag, known as the hunters’ alarm clock, has woken the cabin. Excitement grips the room as my companions look around, smiling in unison at the omen. This is hunting. This is New Zealand. MADE IN NEW ZEALAND My introduction into the hunting world dates back to when I was a young girl growing up in New Zealand. My dad, a possum trapper in the mountains behind my small town, was fed up of being wet and cold in the bush and decided to take matters into his own hands. So, as any innovative, do-it-yourself Kiwi would, he and my mother...
Inspired By My Dad

Inspired By My Dad

By: Dani Bergen It seemed so big, a dream I had played over and over again in my mind, till one day I woke up and realized that it truly was a dream. A reality dream! The darkness was so engulfing. I was scared I was going to wake up and it would all be over. My eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to my new surroundings but somehow I just knew it was real. There was nothing more reassuring of my location than the, every so often, squeeze of my dad’s hand on mine and the clink of his shotgun strap every step he took. I couldn’t see his face but somehow I just knew he was smiling and I was the luckiest girl in the world. My little five year old body was swamped in my dad’s large camouflage onesie, the velcro on my hunting hat was as tight as it could go, and a bottle of pepper spray was clasped in my left hand. Every step made my dream so much more of a reality, the true reality of the beginning of so many more pitch black nights of walking out from an evening of hunting. I knew it was real and I was living in the reality of a dream I had dreamt every night my dad tucked me in and told me stories of his hunting adventures. This evening was not being lived in my imagination. The walk in, the extra tree stand my dad set up just so I could come along, the young black bears, and the dried tears I could now feel on...
Live Outdoors

Live Outdoors

By: Amy Felhaber A Little Bit About Myself I grew up in the country, just outside the small town of Eganville, Ontario, Canada. I was fortunate enough to be raised on a farm with lots of land to roam and was able to experience and enjoy the outdoors from a young age. I was raised in a family where my father and brothers religiously attended the hunt camp each fall and it was only natural for me to begin hunting around the age of 15. I became more avid about five  years ago when I met my boyfriend Bill, when I was introduced to turkey and waterfowl hunting on top of my traditional passion for hunting whitetails as well as small game. Fishing has also been a big part of our family, as we grew up with access to the water and private fishing lakes on our property. At a young age, my father would bring us fishing at the lake behind Grandma’s house and we would always bring home a northern pike or two and have some fresh fish for supper. Fishing is always the sport between seasons; summer fishing before fall hunting season started and winter ice-fishing when the fall hunts were over. It’s something I always look forward to during the year. I could not imagine myself today without being so involved in the outdoors. Within the past couple of years, there have been many successes, as well as many less fruitful hunting adventures. However, I always enjoy my time spent outdoors, and therefore the result of an outing doesn’t dictate my hunting or fishing experience...
A Family Affair

A Family Affair

By: Taylor Reisbeck I grew up roaming the mountains of Montana with my parents Kasey and Tabatha, and my brothers Tucker and Walker. From being packed on my parent’s backs to holding hands down the trails surrounded by tall pine trees and into open meadows, my parents were a big inspiration as to why I love hunting and being in the outdoors. Honestly, all I can think about is my next outing into the beautiful Montana mountains. We as a family were always hunting, fishing and driving on the old rocky roads in the Big Sky Country. I can’t remember driving into the mountains unless it was to hike, fish, shoot gophers or to even try to get my brothers to sleep when they were young. My parents tell me that they would ask me, “What does an elk say?” and I would respond with an elk bugle, which was my first animal sound. My dad would bugle all the time, whether it was from his bedroom, garage or yard (getting some of the neighbors to bugle or cow call back at us). Meanwhile I would grab my mom’s vacuum hose from inside the house and try to copy my dad. You know, practice makes perfect. My brothers have learned the skill of elk calling and have become great callers too.  Tucker signed up for a bugling competition in Lincoln, Montana when he was about 11 years old, competing with other kids and adults.  He was sort of a shy person, so to our surprise he actually did it.  Tucker took second place and boy oh boy my dad...
Genesis

Genesis

By: Tricia Ricks The buck stood quartering-to, distracted by his current love interest but fixated on my location ever since I had belly-crawled over the ridge. He was a handsome deer, with wide, evenly matched antlers that stood starkly against the snowy backdrop. Taking into account the wind and range, I slowly crushed the trigger and forever tied our two lives together. Standing in the echo of the shot, I reflected on the journey that led to this moment. I grew up with two older brothers in the boreal forest of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  Although the area is steeped in a rich hunting heritage, my family didn’t hunt. We barely fished. In fact, to this day one of my brothers still won’t touch a fish. Instead, like many families, mine bonded over competitive sports and I became a driven and focused young lady. I met my future husband in 2002 and he quickly introduced me to fly-fishing. I loved learning about the many facets of the sport: reading the water, the varied casting techniques, entomology and fly selection. It all seemed so tantalizing and quickly became a passion. The quiet anticipation of a strike is so exciting; the steady pull of the current, so relaxing. In 2006, we decided to move to Montana, to live our dream and one day raise a family in a wealth of outdoor recreational opportunities. At the time, I still did not hunt. I’d tag along on backcountry elk hunts or assist in training our new puppy to become a hunting retriever but I still felt like an observer, not a participant. One late...