Author: Andy Hahn

Resembling busy elves, seven squirrels scampered back and forth on the dirt road bordered by a mixed-hardwoods swamp in the South Carolina Low Country. As they began feeding in the predawn glow, my friend Ron Wagner whispered, “We should let ’em settle down a bit before we give ’em the bad news. Brighter light will help us aim better, too.” Ten minutes later Ron held the .22’s crosshairs on a squirrel sitting 45 yards away. I slowly tightened my fingers on the cable release to squeeze the trigger and the bushytail fell dead, prompting Ron and me to smile and…

Keeping the breeze in our favor, my guide Carlos and I quietly stalked through the thick brush. Suddenly a loud, long bellow shattered the morning stillness. Sounding more like a rabid Rottweiler than a lovesick deer, the unseen stag issued a guttural warning to all others that dare even think of getting near its harem. Another thunderous blast boomed out of the heavy cover just 20 yards ahead of us. AARROOOAUW-OUGH-OUGH-OUGH! After such an up-close performance I fully understood the terminology that describes the vociferous rutting behavior of two of the deer family’s larger members. An elk bugles — a…

My baptism as a hog hunter took place in a waist-deep drainage ditch on a cattle ranch near Lake Okeechobee, Florida, in 2005. Robert Paxton had just waded across a 10-foot-wide ditch — soaked from boot heels to belt buckle, he looked back at us and matter-of-factly said, “At least one of you has to come help me. I can’t do this alone.” Mike Tussey (owner of Osceola Outdoors guide service), fellow hunter Joel Townley and I hemmed and hawed. At just 7 a.m. on a January morning, nobody felt very eager to get wet. The hound that had chased…

“You should cancel that trip,” the doctor said flatly. “It could be too strenuous for someone in your condition.” The trip in question was a spot-and-stalk bear hunt on Vancouver Island and my “condition” referred to a recent diagnosis of ALS (also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease), a neurological malady that progressively paralyzes the body by destroying nerve cells responsible for voluntary muscle movement. I’d been a very active, avid outdoorsman since childhood, but at age 45 I had to face some hard facts — I’d become disabled. In the early stages of ALS at that time (May 2006), I…