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I always look forward to testing a new rifle from Browning because I’ve come to expect good things. I’ve found them to be utterly reliable and capable of all the precision any hunter needs. Rarely, if ever, is there any sort of issue that causes me to cuss. This newest version of the Browning X-Bolt, the X-Bolt 2 is no exception. Last year, we tested the X-Bolt Speed SPR and named it the Best Value Hunting Rifle of 2023, and what Browning has done with their X-Bolt 2 rifles has greatly enhance every element of shooter interface.

I was able to test a new X-Bolt Speed OVIX MB in 308 Winchester at my home range over the past couple weeks—and I wasn’t disappointed. Here is my full review.

Browning X-Bolt 2 Speed OVIX MB Specs

• Length: 43.75 inches (with all stock spacers)
• Weight: 6.69 pounds (with magazine)
• Barrel: 22-inch fluted, threaded at M13x0.75
• Action: Browning X-Bolt 2
• Trigger: 3.0 pounds
• Capacity: 4+1
• Finish: Smoked Bronze Cerakote
• Stock: Composite Vari-Tech user-adjustable stock with OVIX camo
• Available Chamberings: 308 Winchester (tested), 243 Winchester, 6.5 Creedmoor, 6.5 PRC, 6.8 Western, 270 Winchester, 7mm Rem. Mag., 7mm PRC, 28 Nosler, 30-06 Springfield, 300 Win. Mag., 300 PRC
• Price: $1469.99

Browning X-Bolt 2 Speed OVIX MB Rifle Overview

The new X-Bolt 2 Speed is a sub-7-pound, traditionally-styled, bolt-action hunting rifle that is available for a dozen popular big game cartridges. It uses essentially the same action as the older X-Bolts with their 60° bolt throw that you’re probably familiar with. This includes a two-position safety that locks the bolt and a bolt-release button located on the bolt handle. With the X Bolt-2, Browning has added an additional bolt-guidance surface for smoother operation and new trigger. The new DLX trigger is user-adjustable for pull weight and is very good—so good it hardly feels like any rifle trigger you’ve pulled in the past; you just apply pressure, and the rifle goes bang.

The other major enhancement is the rifle’s stock. Besides the raised black comb, my test gun’s stock looks very much like that of last year’s X-Bolt Speed, with Browning’s own OVIX camouflaged pattern. But what is really camouflaged is the stock’s adjustability. Unlike most adjustable rifle stocks with adjustments that are very apparent at first glance, when you look at the stock on the X-Bolt Speed 2, you’ll probably not notice anything. I didn’t, because there are no visible adjustment screws or knobs.

There are three holes in the recoil pad. Two are the common holes that provide access to the pad-attachment screws, but the very top hole provides access to the adjustment lock for the comb. You simply insert a hex wrench (provided with the rifle) into this hole and remove tension, then you have six preset points where you can position the comb to best suit you and the riflescope you’re using. If you remove the two screws that hold the recoil pad in place, it exposes the hidden plates for length-of-pull adjustment. Remove two more screws hidden behind the butt pad and you can add or subtract spacers to adjust the length of pull ¼-inch at time. The process is a bit involved but very covert. More important, the added adjustability will be a big plus for a lot of shooters. And it doesn’t end there.

If you remove the barreled action from the stock, you’ll see that Browning has bedded the recoil lug, but you’ll also notice a small screw just to the rear of where the stock has been cut out for the DLX trigger. If you remove this screw you can swap between a grip with a traditional angle or one with a straighter angle. Also, along the forend, Browning has added a black rubber inlay to enhance your grip on the rifle.

Lastly, this rifle uses the flush fitting Browning rotary magazine. This magazine goes in and comes out without a hitch and the rifle feeds from it smooth and effortlessly. This may be the best detachable magazine offered for a traditional hunting rifle from any manufacture.

Related: Rifle Review: The New Ruger American Gen II Is Even Better Than the Original

Browning X Bolt 2 Speed OVIX MB Shooting Results

The Speed SPR we tested last year delivered an average precision of 1.33 inches for five-shot groups. The new X-Bolt 2 Speed shot a bit better, averaging 1.15 inches. Feeding, extraction, and ejection were flawless, and the magazine worked superbly. The adjustments for the comb, length of pull, and the interchangeable grip are easy to make once you understand how to do it. Just know that it really helps to read the instruction manual first. (Don’t ask me how I know.)

Once I did that, I was able to easily adjust the stock to fit me very well, and it was evident when I started shooting the rifle off-hand from field positions. I had no trouble consistently ringing an 8-inch steel plate at 125 yards, or one twice that size at 200 yards. The stock adjustability also helped with faster-action snap shots fired at a much closer range, because when the rifle found my shoulder, the riflescope was right where it needed to be with my eye on the target. The ability to tune this rifle stock to fit me also proved very helpful when engaging my running-deer target.

The “MB” in this rifle’s model name stands for muzzle brake, and the rifle comes out of the box with one installed. It did reduce recoil, but the tradeoff was a hellacious increase in muzzle blast. So, most of the shooting from the bench, and about half the field shooting, was done with a Banish Backcountry suppressor. Since the rifle has a 22-inch barrel, the addition of the suppressor made the rifle a bit long and noticeably muzzle heavy. However, without the suppressor, the rifle was very well balanced.

Related: Proof Research Elevation 2.0 Rifle Review—Expert Tested

Final Thoughts on the Browning X Bolt 2 Speed OVIX MB

Pros

• Excellent shooter interface
• Hidden stock adjustments
• Great trigger

Cons

• Odd thread pattern on muzzle

The added adjustability with the new X-Bolt 2 significantly improves shooter interface. By concealing these adjustments, the rifle also has a much more appealing look than some of its competitors. One quibble I have here is that there’s only an inch of length-of-pull adjustability to work with. The new trigger felt a bit different and took some getting used to. I’ll admit with the first group I fired, a few shots got away from me. But that, once I did get used to it, it was exceptional. The barrel length of this rifle is either 22, 24, or 26 inches, depending which cartridge it’s chambered for, but keep in mind that a SPR (suppressor ready) version is offered with a 4-inch shorter barrel.

My only real disappointment was the muzzle thread pattern Browning chose to go with. The rifle comes threaded at M13x0.75. The common standard for muzzle threading is 5/8×24. The reason for the small diameter thread pattern is the slimness of the rifle’s barrel, which measures only 6/10^th of an inch at the point where the threading starts. This means you’ll most likely need to obtain an adapter to run a suppressor, which is something I think Browning should provide in the box. They already provide a muzzle brake and a thread protector, and if you’re going to use a thread pattern this odd, don’t penalize the customer.

But that’s where my griping ends. Just like the X-Bolt we evaluated last year, this is an excellent—but even better—big game hunting rifle. You should be able to configure it to fit you very well, the trigger will help you make great shots, and you’ll be proud when you pull it from its case in any hunting camp.

Read Next: Colt CBX TAC Hunter Rifle Review—Expert Tested

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Gunsite shooting instructors have seen it all. Most have a lifetime of shooting experience themselves, and they train hundreds of people of varying skill levels every year. According to these experts, most hunters are about 30 percent ready when they step onto the range at Gunsite for a course like Hunter Prep, The 270 Rifle Class, or private instruction. This past winter, I was one of those hunters in a Safari Prep course, and I definitely learned a thing or two shooting with instructors Dave Hartman and Gary Smith.

As hunters, we tend to think of ourselves as pretty good shots, and most of us have antlers on the wall to prove it. But, like many skills, shooting is full of pitfalls that get deeper when you don’t practice. Hartman and Smith are both hunters themselves, but more important, they’re teachers. They’ve seen just about every mistake a hunter can make when it comes to rifle shooting. Here are the five most common—and how to fix them

Mistake No. 1: Misjudging Range—and Your Shooting Ability

With high-tech optics, range finders, and super-accurate rifles, it’s easy to get carried away with how far you think you can shoot. But hunting isn’t the place to wing it. “Hunting is about making an ethical shot, and to me an ethical shot is a shot you can make 100 percent of the time,” Smith says. “In general, 200 yards is where we start seeing most shooters fall apart.”

Hunters can have trouble inside of 200 yards, too. Smith told a story of someone he was guiding who missed an elk at 35 yards, for example. The key is to have an accurate gauge on your ability before you get into the field. You also need to know how to judge distance should you misplace your rangefinder or need to make a quick shot.

Smith and Hartman suggest practicing range estimation and confirming that with a rangefinder until you get good. They also suggest using a 200-yard zero so that anything you see within 200 yards, you can shoot without dialing a turret. To get a better idea of how far you can shoot beyond that, practice at different distances and shooting positions. If you can’t hit a target 100 percent of the time at a given distance, you have no business shooting an animal that far.

Mistake No. 2: Lacking an Understanding of Marksmanship Fundamentals

Most hunters could be better at getting in an out of shooting positions. This is surprising because out of anyone who shoots a firearm, hunters are the most likely to be away from a shooting bench. Still, that’s where we do most of our practice.

“You need to get off the bench and shoot more,” says Hartman “Once you get your rifle sighted in, get off the bench.”  In my Safari Prep course, we never touched a shooting bench. We shot standing, seated, kneeling, and prone. Both Smith and Hartman suggest incorporating these positions into your range sessions. Along with that, the instructors also see problems with how hunters use their optics.

“The biggest problem I see is hunters focused on the animal or target rather than their reticle,” Smith says. It might sound strange, but focusing on your crosshair—not the animal—as you pull the trigger will improve your ability to hit a target.

It’s also important to learn how to trust the wobble you see in your reticle. “Our bodies are never perfectly still,” Smith says. With a stable field position, your crosshair will move a bit, but all of that movement should be within the kill zone of your target and consistent. If it is, focus on the reticle and pull the trigger. Whatever you do, don’t try to time your shot for when your reticle crosses over the perfect spot on your target. If you do, you’ll probably jerk the trigger and move your gun off target.

Mistake No. 3: Not Shooting Enough

We all know hunters who’ve been slowly working their way through one box of ammo for years. They take their rifle out during deer season, take one or two shots, then put it away for the rest of the year. That works until it doesn’t. Shooting is a perishable skill that requires practice. The trouble is, practice is expensive, especially when you’re talking about shooting hunting ammo.

“I’m a big fan of the understudy rifle,” Hartman says. “For example, if you have a 300 Win Mag, buy a similar or the same model rifle in a smaller caliber. That way, you can get lots of range time for less money and less recoil.”

Many manufacturers today even make grown-up sized 22LR trainers of bigger rifles. Investing in one could save you a pile of money in ammunition should you want to practice more. And as we’ve covered before, you don’t need a ton of ammo to get a good range session in. Shooting fewer rounds more frequently will keep you in good shape for deer season.

Smith also suggests that you can get better at shooting without live ammunition or going to the range. “A lot can be accomplished dry firing,” he says. “When you go to the range, you’re just confirming that you’re doing your dry fire practice right.” Practice shooting positions, trigger press, and work on focusing on your reticle. Smith says a good way to tell if you’re dry firing correctly is that the gun shouldn’t move when you press the trigger.

Related: 4 Perfect Dry Fire Drills for Hunters

Mistake No. 4: Believing that Better Gear Will Make You a Better Shooter

“A lot of people want to buy their way to bullseyes and X rings,” Hartmann says. “They’ll buy a $10,000 rifle and expect it to do all the work for them, and it doesn’t. I would suggest keeping it simple, then shoot up to the expectations of your equipment. You can always upgrade later.”

Hartman and Smith also suggest matching your equipment to your environment. For example, if you’re hunting around a lot of tall grass, you probably won’t be able to use your bipod because you won’t be able to see from the prone position. Gear is great, but learning fundamentals is better. It’s also better to make the most of the gear you have.

“Learn to use the sling for support,” says Hartman. “I was up in Prince of Whales Island last November for a blacktail hunt. I didn’t bother taking shooting sticks or a tripod with me because I know how to use braced kneeling and other positions with my sling.” The more you know about shooting, the less gear you’ll have to haul into the woods.

Mistake No. 5: Not Being Familiar Enough With the Gear You Have

A lot of hunters don’t have a good understanding of how their rifle works, or how to fix it in the field if something goes wrong. Time on the range will help with that. But going to a course like one you’ll find at Gunsite or shooting a match will go even further to expose any flaws your rifle, optic, or other gear may have.

“We just had a Hunter Prep course where a few of the shooters optics mounts came loose,” says Hartman. “Before going hunting, I’d make sure everything is Loc-Tited and torqued to the right specs. Check things like your sling swivels, too.”

“You also need to understand how to manipulate your rifle,” Smith says. That means simple things like how the safety works, how to reload, and field strip. While we were at Gunsite, we practiced things like loading single rounds into an empty rifle under pressure, checked if our rifle bolts locked when the safety was on, and made note of whether the suppressors we were using came loose after a number of shots. In the classroom, we spent time going through gear lists and coming up with things to pack to repair our rifles should we need to. If you don’t know how your rifle works, read the manual, go online, or sign up for a class like one you’ll find at Gunsite.

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When I think about how long I’ve been hunting deer, it’s honestly a little embarrassing. The year was 1972, which means Richard Nixon was president, the average cost of a new home in the U.S. was $27,500, a gallon of gas cost $.55, and ABBA was at the top of charts. It was, if you do the math, more than 50 years, and when I think about how much deer hunting has changed in those five decades, it should be a piece of cake listing 10 lessons I’ve learned since the first morning when my dad dropped me off at a snow-covered rock and said “sit here.”

In fact, it was not so easy. That’s probably because, for the most part, I still consider myself a student of the game—which I don’t think is that unusual even for someone of my vintage. That said, I’ve developed some firmly held convictions cemented by my years in the whitetail woods, and as outdoor writer who focuses on deer, I’ve talked to and hunted with some of the very best, who’ve been generous enough to share their wisdom. So, here’s what I’ve learned about not just deer hunting, but also about the deer themselves and the people who hunt them.

Lesson #1: Safety Comes First

I know. You’ve heard this one before. But you should listen to me. First, I’m probably your elder, but more important, I know of what I speak, having had a number of friends experience serious injuries in the deer woods.

When I was younger, I figured the primary goal of any deer hunt was to come home with a buck. Silly boy. Now I know the top achievement of any outing in the woods is to come home safely, so that you can go out and hunt again. If you doubt this, talk to any of the hundreds of people who have been injured in tree-stand falls or other accidents, some suffering injuries that prevent them from ever hunting again.

Obviously, I was not always this way. I went for many years climbing trees recklessly and without any fall restraint device. And I continued to do so despite falling three different times and avoiding serious injury (or death) through nothing but sheer luck. Finally, with some maturity I realized that I was being an idiot. These days I rig a safety line for every elevated platform I hunt from, and I’m connected to that line from the minute my feet leave the ground until they return again. Sure it adds a little cost and time to every set, but two falls ago, on a cold and snowy afternoon, the support cables on my ladder stand snapped in unison, turning the stand platform into a trap door. My safety line saved me a whole lot more time and expense in the hospital.

Related: The 7 Best Tree Stand Harnesses of 2024

Lesson #2: Mature Bucks Are Different

It’s not just that regal headgear that differentiates a trophy buck from his herd-mates. I’ve been chasing mature bucks with some degree of seriousness since the mid 1980’s, and I’m convinced that, for the most part and under most conditions, they just don’t behave like other deer. Some of this belief is actually backed by science; telemetry studies have proven that older bucks less frequently and shorter distances than younger bucks and does. It’s simply harder to see a whitetail that’s spending more time on his belly than on his feet, and when his jaunts are short (and occur at night, not unusual for an old deer) it only ups the ante on difficulty.

There are other differences. In my experience, mature bucks aren’t as likely to use the well-used trails and runways preferred by other deer. I’ve lost track of the times I’ve set up on a heavily-traveled trail under perfect conditions, then watched does, fawns, and younger bucks waltz down that path with abandon. Then, assuming I see the mature buck I’m hunting, he’ll shun the highway and mince down some barely-visible side trail. And he’ll usually be taking his time. I’m always amazed at the slower pace of mature bucks vs. younger deer. Unless he’s after a hot doe or escaping danger, an old buck is rarely in a hurry to do anything. I think this can be partially explained by physical differences; old, chubby deer simply move slower, but I think it’s also an excellent survival tool. Moving slowly allows a buck more time to see, hear, or smell danger, then figure out an appropriate response. The bottom line for hunters is that if you’re after a mature buck, you need to bring your A-game every time. You need to be double cautious and leave as little as possible to chance. If you can’t hunt a big deer without it knowing it’s being hunted, then you need to tweak your setup, wait for better conditions, or hold out for a time when he’ll be more vulnerable.

Related: How to Hunt for the Biggest Whitetail Buck of Your Life

Lesson #3: Always Hunt the Early Season

There’s nothing like excitement and chaos of November, when most every buck is on its feet and the actions is so frenetic you don’t want to turn your head the wrong way for fear of missing something. Trust me I get it, and I’ve had my share of November success. But when it comes to arranging a close encounter with a mature buck I know, I’d take any five days in September over three weeks in the eleventh month. Three of my biggest whitetails, including two gross B&C bucks and all taken with a bow, have been tagged during the Midwest’s early archery season.

Why is September so good? For starters, bucks are typically on a bed-to-feed pattern that’s at least reasonably predictable. Hunters often hear “pattern” and visualize a buck on a train track with an airtight ETA. That’s not true for the most part. Bucks typically have one or two favored food sources in the early season, which they visit regularly, depending on the conditions. It’s up to us to determine which conditions those are, which can be done by observation or trail camera, then capitalize when the time is right. The good news is, early-season bucks are at their most relaxed, having experienced little to no human contact in many months. With some solid intel and the right weather conditions (pay attention to early-season cold fronts), September is far and away the best time to put a tag on a mature homebody buck.

Related: How to Hunt Early Season Deer: 10 Expert Tips

Lesson #4: Talk to the Animals

I’ll never forget the first whitetail buck I rattled in. It was more than 25 years ago, and the buck was nothing special—a 1-½ year old with a busted up rack that might have scored 100 inches with a generous tape. I was hunting southern Iowa, land of the giants, and it was the second week of November. With just a little patience, even a modest P&Y candidate was almost a sure thing. But when I banged the antlers together and that scruffy little buck came charging through the hardwoods like he owned them, I grabbed my recurve and arrowed that deer at 15 steps. My friends thought I was crazy to “burn” a tag on such a modest buck, but that remains one of my most memorable days, and deer, of my hunting life.

In the years since, I’ve used rattling, grunting, bleating, and snort-wheezing to lure in a bunch of deer, and I consider calling to be one of my favorite ways to lure a deer into bow range. And I have to admit, I’m a bit mystified that more hunters don’t call to whitetails—or don’t call as much as they should. I have given my hunting buddies countless calls and sets of rattling horns, most of which remain stashed in packs or hanging on hooks in a shed somewhere. I think much of this call-phobia is just a general fear of making noise in a sport that largely demands quiet. Then there’s a paranoia of saying “the wrong thing” and possibly spooking a deer. And finally, while deer are highly social animals and talk to each other all the time, they do so subtly and much of it is unheard by humans. This makes hunters even more leery of calling’s effectiveness. But I’m here to affirm that with just a little courage, calling deer is something even a modestly skilled hunter can do successfully—and really enjoy in the bargain.

Related: 9 Key Deer Calls and How to Make Them

Lesson #5: Don’t Fall Into the Scent-Control Trap

I think I’ve tried every trick that’s been invented to beat a buck’s nose. I’ve showered and sprayed and wriggled into clothing designed to trap human odor. I’ve hung ozone units above my stand and stashed clothing in special closets and sprayed every conceivable flavor of cover scent on my boots and clothes and around stand locations….and I do none of it these days. I’m not saying any or all of these gadgets don’t work because thy may to some extent, and I have very good friends who are excellent deer hunters who go whole-hog into scent-control and I respect, and I admire them greatly. But I gave the scent-control game up for a couple of reasons that, at least to my aging brain, made sense to me.

My first step toward scent-elimination liberation came when I conducted a series of tests with drug-sniffing police dogs that had almost zero problem detecting human odor despite the rigorous application of scent-proof products. It should be said that these tests were probably not a true indication of the worth of no-scent stuff; the K-9’s in question were super-tuned to discover human odor and highly motivated, while the majority of free-range whitetails rarely are. Still, these tests convinced me that there is no way to legitimately beat a deer’s sense of smell (which, by the way, is better than a dog’s), assuming that deer is intent on finding us.

But also, and most importantly, I jumped off the bandwagon just because I wanted to simplify my hunting. My hunting time is precious to me, and I don’t need to fritter away any of it with scent-control rituals and gear. I also get a huge kick out of “beating” a buck’s nose simply by hanging a stand in the right spot, or by refusing to hunt a spot if the wind direction is wrong. At first I was a little surprised when I realized I was seeing almost as many deer in bow range without “controlling” my scent. And there were deer that “got me” that I might have fooled with no-scent tactics, but honestly it didn’t bother me when I got busted by those deer. A whitetail’s nose is his greatest defense system, and getting past it by hunting a little smarter is more satisfying to me than trying to take that defense away from him with a product. Plus I travel lighter and don’t waste a pile of time engaging in no-scent rituals. The truth is that has been wonderfully liberating and very satisfying.

Lesson #6: Relying Too Much on Tech Can Cheapen the Experience

I’ve been around long enough to remember trail cams before they were even trail cams. Back in the day, you could buy a unit that was really nothing more than a trail timer; you stretched a string across a trail, and when a critter tripped it, the unit recorded the time (no, you didn’t know for certain whether it was even a deer). Things got really sophisticated when someone figured out how to hide a point-and-shoot 35 mm camera in a (mostly) weatherproof housing, and you loaded the camera with 36-exposure print film you developed at a one-hour photo shop. These days you can get cameras that live-stream videos in real time, directly to your phone or laptop.

It’s no secret that this improved performance has led to an explosion of interest in trail cams, and created some problems in the process. Several states have banned cell cameras on public lands in response to hunters homesteading waterholes and other areas attractive to elk and deer. And, of course, the real-time capabilities of today’s wireless cams have led to discussions of fair chase and other ethical concerns; if a pic or video tips you off to a buck making a scrape by Stand X and you hot-foot it over to that area and manage to kill the buck, it’s reasonable to point out that the camera gave you an edge you wouldn’t have had without it.

I’m typically leery of banning equipment, and I love trail cams. I enjoy the entertainment of knowing which bucks are on what hunting properties, and I’ve learned a lot about deer behavior, food preferences, and peak movement conditions by studying pics and video. I do not feel trail cams have ever been directly responsible for me tagging a deer, and for the most part cameras have shown me how little I know about the bucks in my hunting areas and have proven a pretty humbling teaching tool. That said, with the features and capabilities of trail cameras getting more and more sophisticated every year, we seem to be on a collision course with a reality where deer hunting success relies more on technology and gadgetry than on woodsmanship, and that will take away from the experience. We may be there already. Part of me would be sad to see trail cams go, but I also know I wouldn’t stop me from hunting and might even make me a better scouter.

Lesson #7: Snow Means Go!

I shot my very first buck—a beautiful central-Wisconsin 8-point—on a cold, snowy morning in 1972. I was a scrawny, buck-toothed kid toting a Remington 1100 that was as long as I was tall, and I was perched on a frozen chunk of granite my dad had pointed me toward an hour before. The buck followed a hot doe through some scrub pines only 30 yards from my rock, and I managed to conquer shaking hands and a pounding heart to make good on the shot. I’ll never forget the sight of that buck slipping through those snow-crusted evergreens toward me, and I have loved hunting in the snow ever since.

I’m definitely the nostalgic type, but my fondness for snow is more than just sentimental. Snow simply gets deer on their feet like nothing else, a fact proven over and over by personal experience and backed up by trail-cam pics. Just last fall, we had a late October snowfall that (of course) occurred on a day I could not hunt. Naturally my wireless cameras lit up and pinged my phone with almost-annoying frequency, and when I checked cards a couple days later, I had pics of a largely nocturnal buck moving past one of my dad’s favorite stands at noon—two days in a row.

Lesson #8: Take Advantage of March Madness

When the rest of the world turns its attention to NCAA basketball, my eyes (and the rest of me) are glued to the timber. That’s because some of the most important scouting of the year happens during that narrow window between snow melt and spring green up. All or most of last fall’s deer sign will still be visible, allowing me to walk out rub lines and decipher the best and most active scrapes from October and November. Perhaps even more important, the best trails and runways connecting funnels, feeding and bedding areas will be obvious. So often when scouting during the fall, we’re receiving only a hint of the best action, while spring scouting provides us with a complete picture of deer activity over an entire fall. Most important, I can walk out these trails with zero fear of bumping a buck I want to hunt; assuming I do run into a target animal on my jaunts, he has months to forget about my intrusion.

I’ve hung some of my best stands (or at least selected the right tree) during this period. Case in point was my second-best archery buck, which I killed from a stand I’d hung in a bur oak the previous April. The tree grew in a spot where three ridges joined and the rubs and scrapes in the immediate area clued me in to a spot bucks liked to visit. I returned to hang the set and brush some shooting lanes, and five months later, when the wind was perfect on a gorgeous September afternoon, I slipped into the spot with my bow in hand. Just before dusk, I heard a scuff in the leaves on a nearby trail and looked up to see a heavy main-frame 10-point plodding my way. I had no clue this particular deer lived here, but by reading the previous fall’s sign in spring, I’d managed to slide right into his wheelhouse and arrow him. 

Related: Why March Is a Key Month for Whitetail Hunters

Lesson #9: Buddies Make Deer Hunting Better

When I started deer hunting with my family members back in the 1970s, at least 50% of our  group’s effort was devoted to driving deer. We were pretty good at it, but even at its best, driving was semi-chaotic and even slightly dangerous. By the early 80s we’d largely dropped the practice and devoted ourselves to stand and blind hunting. I’m convinced this made us better, more effective, and definitely safer deer hunters, but it came at a price, and the price was camaraderie. For all the chaos and craziness of a deer drive, there was an awful lot of fun and more than once—while sitting in a cold and lonely deer stand—I realized how much I missed the hunting partners I’d basically grown up with.

While I haven’t gone back to driving deer, I have learned to nurture and cherish relationships with other deer nuts. I make it a point to share trail-cam pics, deer sightings, hunt reports, and of course any success with a group of fellow hunters that includes family members, friends, and neighbors. I know there are guys who’d share lottery winnings before they’d forward a trail-cam pic, especially to someone who might have a chance to kill “their” deer. Granted, I’m blessed with some excellent friends of high moral character, but I find this a sad and lonely approach to a sport that’s a heckuva lot more fun when you can send a pic to a buddy with a “check this guy out” message, or even tip a neighbor off to a buck that might be flying under his radar. One thing I miss about driving was the collective success shared by everyone in the party when a buck was bagged. I think that being open and honest with information, as well as being the first to congratulate a friend who’s tagged a dandy (yes, even one I’ve been chasing) is the best way celebrate the brotherhood of fellow whitetail geeks. 

Lesson #10: Pay It Forward

As noted elsewhere, I was a scrawny 12-year-old when my dad first took me to the Wisconsin deer woods. While dad had a fairly easy babysitting job that first morning (I was tagged out by 10 a.m. with an 8-point that would be my biggest buck for many years), he earned his stripes over the course of that season and several to come. I needed constant direction (and re-direction) when I was asked to help make drives. I got cold and hungry. And after my opening-day success, I made the logical jump that if I sat somewhere—even a randomly-chosen stone or stump—a buck was sure to appear. Obviously dad had some coaching to do when it came to perseverance. That I wanted nothing more than to be a good deer hunter as I grew older is testament to his tutelage and endless patience.

Fast forward some 20 years, and it was my turn. I was teaching high school back then and renting a farm house from a wonderful family who had a son not old enough to hunt but fascinated by the sport. Alan was long on energy and enthusiasm, and I did my best to channel it by taking him hunting with me even before he was of legal age. One hunt we still laugh about occurred when he was 10 and I had him up in a tree stand with me for an October bowhunt. It’s always a bitter pill to miss a point-blank shot on a buck, but when you have preteen—laughing gleefully I might add—as a witness, it’s even tougher. Still, I loved having the kid along, and we continued sharing the woods until he was old enough to hunt. Then I had the pleasure of calling up his first turkeys and driving his first deer to him. Now an accomplished hunter on his own, Alan is also a very busy farmer, and I’ve had the pleasure of taking his two boys hunting with me as well. And I can honestly say that helping those youngsters tag game is more satisfying to me than tagging a buck myself. I guess my dad was a good role model when it came to mentoring young deer hunters. And if this sport is going to have a long future, we all need to do our part in paying it forward.

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To celebrate Father’s Day, all week long we’ll be publishing a series of stories all about dads—about their companionship in the outdoors, about them teaching or encouraging us to hunt and fish, and about how we wouldn’t be where we are, or who we are, without them. Fittingly, we’re calling this series “Thanks, Dad.” 

Do you have a great story to share about your dad? Submit it to our Father’s Day Contest for a chance to be featured in the F&S journal and win a prize package valued at $500.

As the only child of a serious outdoorsman, I spent most of my childhood following my father around in the woods. I killed my first deer the winter after my twelfth birthday—a little four-point buck with brow tines so tiny they looked more like pimples than points. After sharing a Snickers, Daddy coached me through field dressing, although his hands held the knife far more than mine. Before we headed to the truck, he used the blood on his hands to paint two thick stripes across my cheeks. 

That was the first of many deer I killed in the woods with Daddy. When I was older, jobs, bills, and a house full of small children conspired to keep me from hunting as often as I liked. My sons took my place following Daddy through the woods. Sometimes, I had the privilege of bringing up the rear. I was there when my older son Daniel connected with his first whitetail, a plump young doe. I watched perched on the tailgate, eating the ceremonial Snickers while Daddy and Daniel did the field dressing. 

I wasn’t present when my younger son, Silas, shot two back-to-back does. He and Daddy are both all smiles in the photo my mother sent—Silas, with two broad stripes on his cheeks. 

We were all devastated in 2017 when Daddy suffered a catastrophic heart attack on the last day of the Virginia deer season. He died in a hospital bed two days later. A sea of Mossy Oak and Realtree attended his funeral, as his family and hunting buddies were decked out in camo to pay their last respects. 

The first deer season without him was tough. Daddy left an empty spot in each of us that we discovered was best soothed in the woods. So, with Silas out of school for Christmas break and Daniel home on leave from the Army, we decided to hunt. 

The first morning, we parted ways at a fork in the road. I headed in one direction, and Daniel and Silas crept off in the other. I watched the boys’ headlamps bobbing away from me just like I had watched Daddy’s waggling through the dark more times than I could count. It was barely shooting light when I heard a single shot from what I recognized as the Remington 870 Wingmaster I had used to kill my first deer. Daddy had converted it to a slug gun several years before he passed. Silas had been carrying that gun when we parted ways. 

Thirty minutes later, Daniel came shuffling up the path towards my stand.

“Come help your son gut this deer,” he said. 

“He knows how to gut his own deer,” I answered. 

“Just come on.”

Silas had sent a sabot spiraling right through the boiler room of a scrawny spike, dropping him dead at 75 yards. Despite the deer’s unimpressive size, the shot itself was a crackerjack. After some arm punching, backslapping, and a brief Snickers toast, the boys pulled the little buck out of a tangle of briars and onto the path where field dressing would be easier. 

Silas whipped out a knife and, attempting to appear confident, chopped off the buck’s sex organs, just as Daddy had coached him. Then he straddled the buck, turned his blade upward, and started the pelvic cut. 

“Be careful,” I said.

“I know what I’m doing,” he snapped back at me. 

It looked like he did. His hands worked together seamlessly as he used the fingers of his free hand on either side of the blade tip, pulling the muscle up and away from the organs. He unzipped the buck like he’d been doing it his whole life. 

With the deer’s abdomen opened up for all the world to see, Silas started digging around inside the deer like he was searching for inspiration. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “This is usually where Pop Pop would curse at me and push me out of the way.”

The three of us exchanged embarrassed looks, suddenly realizing we were all utterly lost without Daddy. Daddy could gut a deer in two minutes flat. I know because I timed him once as he flew through the process with the precision of a skilled surgeon and the speed of a NASCAR pit-crew member.

My father had adamantly insisted we gut our own deer over the years. He was, after all, a very practical man. He was also impatient. There was always a pattern to our field dressing: Daddy would hand us a knife and tell us to “get to it.” We would open up the deer’s belly, and about the time the gutting got nasty, he elbowed each of us out of the way, muttering a few colorful words while informing us we were “doing it wrong” or “taking all day” or that he didn’t want us to “ruin the meat.” Which is why the three of us were standing in the frigid woods fighting off panic. 

“Would it help if I cussed at you,” I said.

“Maybe,” Silas answered.

It didn’t.

Over the next two hours, we took turns holding legs, digging around inside the spike’s chest cavity, or offering useless advice from the sidelines. When all was said and done, it took four knives and three hunters to sloppily field-dress one spike. By the end, we were all covered in blood, and I had somehow lost my prescription glasses. Yes, we were definitely “doing it wrong,” and we almost “took all day,” but we somehow managed to finish without “ruining the meat.”

The three of us have killed dozens of deer since the botched butchering of that spike in the woods. While we have yet to break Daddy’s two-minute record, we are definitely more competent. Even if we still feel lost without him. 

The post Thanks, Dad: Hunting Without Daddy appeared first on Field & Stream.

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To celebrate Father’s Day, all week long we’ll be publishing a series of stories all about dads—about their companionship in the outdoors, about them teaching or encouraging us to hunt and fish, and about how we wouldn’t be where we are, or who we are, without them. Fittingly, we’re calling this series “Thanks, Dad.” 

Do you have a great story to share about your dad? Submit it to our Father’s Day Contest for a chance to be featured in the F&S journal and win a prize package valued at $500.

It was like a bad gas-station postcard. While Lowry slept in a patch of sun on a high ridge, exhausted from the rigors of excruciating airport delays on her Thanksgiving journey home from Madison, strep-throated and finals-fatigued, but glad, so glad, to finally be back home in Montana—while she lay in the snow on her back, the mild sun almost warm upon us, and slept, with her rifle leaning safely against a log and a half-gallon jug of brilliant orange juice chilling in the snow beside her—two elk had come pussyfooting down the ridge behind us, scented us, and then detoured quietly, unpanicked, as if our sprawling little impromptu naptime spot was but a newly erected roundabout.

Once the elk were past us, they continued down the ridge, headed to wherever they were going.

We did not find any of this out until later, post-nap, when we arose and started back down the long ridge we had ascended earlier that morning, back when the snow had still been frozen in the darkness, concussive, the night’s last stars fading, the jagged, snowy Pintlers beginning to glow in the distance. Lowry—who had been homesick without maybe quite knowing she’d been homesick, in that curious way that happens when you like the new place where you are, but also miss the old one, home—had kept stopping to take pictures of the rising sun illuminating those mountains. As if in those three short months in Wisconsin she had started to forget the mountains.

One never forgets. But it was the longest she had ever been away from them, and she kept stopping to photograph them as if they themselves were wild animals that might somehow begin moving away from her, or seek in some other manner to elude her.

At the top, once the sun was upon the snow and melting the cast of it, softening it and making it glow and glisten, we had bedded down and rested. The scent of ceanothus, of lodgepole. We were thinking, Maybe deer. I did not think we were high enough or far enough back—only an hour or so in—for elk. She napped, and I sat there and watched, and sometimes thought about nothing at all, though other times I would look over at her, and out at the sunstruck snowy mountains, and think, Wow, we’re hunting. Her first hunt.

She awakened after half an hour or so. We were due home that night, five hours north. It wasn’t a real hunt; we were just kind of easing into it. Just out for a walk. We started back down the ridge, and that’s when we found those new tracks, new and bright in the warming slush. We followed them quietly into the wind.

We followed the tracks for an hour, down into the lower places where the snow went away. We found wolverine tracks from what looked like the day before. Was the wolverine moving the elk around and around on this mountain? It seemed busy, even crowded, yet we saw nothing. But we were hunting. We were into the elk and might get up on them at any moment, except for the fact that they had gotten the drop on us during naptime, and knew we were on the mountain. We played it out, followed them down into the cool shade, trying to parse their tracks in the damp earth, then lost them in the dead winter grass on a south slope. I suspect they made a big circle, always moving, this late in the season, casting a ceaseless net throughout their watershed, trolling for all scent, all predators, always.

At the bottom of the ridge we cut the most beautiful and fragrant little Christmas tree ever, a Douglas fir, and hiked on out, back to the car, tied it to the top, and drove on home. One hunt down, and ten thousand more to go.

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Rifles have changed more in the last quarter century than they have in the preceding century and a quarter, and one of the men most responsible passed away at his home in West Virginia on June 5. I got to know Melvin Forbes in 1985 when he was starting Ultra Light Arms (later, New Ultra Light Arms), and he invited me to hunt groundhogs with him. I did this for most summers for 20 years, and we added whitetails to the annual list in 1986.

It took me a while to figure out just how smart Melvin was. He dressed like a West Virginian, and spoke like one, meaning he was not out to impress the world with how many IQ points he was carrying around. But what he was able to do was look at hunting rifles in a way that no one had before and see what really was needed, and what was not. His understanding of how things worked was uncanny.

In 1983, Melvin was working as a country gunsmith when a customer of his ran out of wind while hunting in Montana and had to hang his rifle in a tree in order to make it down off the mountain. “Build me a light rifle,” he told Melvin when he got home, and Melvin did just that. He started by looking hard at a Remington Model 600 carbine, and he saw that there was a lot of wood and metal that you didn’t really need if you built the gun correctly. He decided that the person who should build such a rifle was him.

He quit gunsmithing, took a job as a high-school teacher for the steady paycheck, and started weighing and measuring rifle parts, and deducting ounces and fractions of ounces. He saw that much of the answer lay in discarding wood stocks, and he engaged the help of two friends who worked in aerospace design, one an expert on high-strength fabrics, the other on adhesives (the String Man and the Glue Man, he called them).

What they created was a Kevlar/graphite stock that was not only an ergonomic marvel—Melvin asked his rifle-shooter friends to weigh in on what felt good—but weighed a single pound and was so strong you could run it over with a pickup and all you’d do is scratch the paint. For a trigger, he went to Timney, because their triggers work, and for barrels he went with the No. 1 contour barrel made by Douglas, which makes a damn good barrel and is a West Virginia company to boot. The result, depending on caliber, usually went under 6 pounds, this when 8 pounds was considered light.

Melvin used pillar bedding at a time when it was known mostly to benchrest shooters, and he fit everything together so that it just touched. The was no stress anywhere in an Ultra Light rifle. It was completely stable and would never go weird on you. Meilvin once sent me a rifle in 7mm Weatherby Magnum, and because I was nagging him nonstop to ship it, he forgot to install a rear bedding screw. I shot it, got 1.5-inch groups, which was respectable for the time, and then discovered what was missing. I called, he sent a screw, and the groups shrunk by half—but I could have used that gun as was and even with a vital part missing, it still would have done fine.

Melvin built about 2,000 rifles while he headed the company. I think he could describe every one of them, and name who bought it. He once picked up a 6.5 Swede he’d made for me years before, and said, “The people who send me money for these don’t know it, but they’re just renting them. They’re my guns. They’ll always be my guns.”

In May, 2022, Melvin sold New Ultra Light Arms to Wilson Combat, who is now building rifles that have some minor changes and are made on the highest of high-tech machinery, but they’re still NULAs. They still weigh under 6 pounds, and unless you’re a hell of a rifle shot, they’ll still group closer than you can hold them.

Melvin saw the world differently than you and I. He was once in a caribou camp where the stoves didn’t work worth a damn, and he asked the camp manager if he could take one apart and look at it. Yes, was the answer, so Melvin did, and he saw that there was a part in the burner that had no useful function, so he took it out and the stove worked fine. Then he fixed all the camp stoves.

Out of curiosity, because it was about as far from rifles as you could get, I once asked him if he could make me a Gibson Granada Flathead 5-string banjo just like Earl Scruggs played, and he thought about what would be involved for maybe ten seconds, and then said yes, he could do that. And I have no doubt that he could.

The worst thing he could say about anything was, “It ain’t right,” which meant, it doesn’t work or it was not done properly. You could see the horror on his face at the thought that people could build things that weren’t right.

What he built was right. It worked. In a century, people will still pick up his rifles and say, “This guy knew what he was doing.” You can’t give a man like Melvin a finer epitaph than that.

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I don’t need to tell you how expensive ammo is. So instead, I’ll remind you of something you may already know but probably don’t take full advantage of, and that’s the fact that you can improve your shooting a ton without every firing a shot. All you need to do is incorporate more dry-fire practice into your routine.

Dry fire practice is the act of manipulating or handling firearms without ammunition. It is, for lack of a better explanation, pretending to shoot, with a purpose. Dry-fire practice might be the dead horse you cannot kick enough, and so I’m going to kick it again by breaking down the types of practice all hunters should be doing, and how to do it.

Dry-Fire Safety

Before we get into any drills, safety first. There are two keys to safe dry-fire practice. The first is to never have any ammunition in or around the gun, you, or the area where you’re conducting dry fire. The second is to obey the four rules of firearm safety, as always, even if there is no ammo around:

• Always treat every gun as if it were loaded.
• Never let the muzzle cover anything you are not willing to destroy.
• Keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are on the target.
• Always be sure of your target.

Dry-Fire Drill No. 1: Improve Trigger Control

The secret to shooting is pressing the trigger without disturbing the sight picture. Aside from aiming at the correct spot on an animal, once you’ve learned proper sight picture, you’ve got it; it’s a lesson you’ll never need to learn again. On the other hand, pressing the trigger correctly is something you’ll struggle to master for the rest of your life. This is where dry-fire practice can make a huge difference.

Aim your rifle at a target and practice breaking the trigger while trying to not disrupt the sight picture. This is, of course, difficult because none of us can hold a rifle completely still. What we can do, however, is learn to work with what’s called, “allowable reticle movement” or ARM. ARM is an amount of reticle, red dot, or sight movement on target that will still allow for a hit if you press the trigger correctly. As a general rule, if you cannot keep your sights on an area half the size of your target, you have more than the allowable amount of reticle movement.

Your goal with dry fire is twofold. First, you want to strive to reduce the movement of your sights on the target. And second, you want to perfect your trigger press, so it does not contribute to that movement. It’s something you can improve on by spending only about five minutes each day practicing. Work for 25 to 30 good trigger presses each day, or at least during each dry-fire session.

Dry-Fire Drill No. 2: Mount the Rifle Correctly

In preparing for a shot, you must bring the rifle to your shoulder and establish the proper interface. When done correctly, when the rifle finds your shoulder and your eye should find the target through the scope or over the sights. Many shooters struggle with this mostly because they don’t do it enough. Just this year while prepping my wife for her second safari, mounting the rifle was the thing we worked on the most during dry practice. In Africa, she never missed an animal and was quick to get on target and shoot.

A key to doing this efficiently is keeping both eyes open. Raise the rifle so it’s level, and then bring it straight back to your shoulder. Keep both eyes on target while doing this. As the rifle is coming to your shoulder, the scope will obscure the target for your shooting eye, but your other eye is still looking at the target. And, since both eyes always look in the same direction, with practice your shooting eye finds the target much faster.

If you have a 3D archery target where you can safely dry practice, do this about 20 times each day/session. You’ll soon find that you’ll be able to locate the target in your riflescope quicker, and that you’ll also be able to make a trigger press sooner.

Dry-Fire Drill No. 3: Operate Your Rifle Better

While practicing mounting the rifle there are other things you should be working on—dry. The first is the operation of the safety. Disengage the rifle’s safety as you first begin to mount the rifle, and then engage the safety once you’ve made your “shot.” Practicing this in a dry-fire setting will help you almost instinctively conduct proper safety manipulation when hunting.

The second is the operation of the rifle’s action. After pressing the trigger and following through, immediately cycle the rifle’s action while it’s still on your shoulder. Don’t John Wayne it by lowering the rifle—whether it’s a lever, pump, or bolt action—after the trigger press. Cycle the action and then establish another sight picture, all while keeping the rifle on your shoulder. This is a good process to commit to memory and will prove especially helpful if your first shot results in a bad hit or a miss.

Dry-Fire Drill No. 4: Get From Slung to Shooting

I think one of the most overlooked dry fire training drills is going from the slung to shooting positions. The first year I deer hunted by myself, I missed a chance at a big whitetail buck because I did not get my rifle off my shoulder fast enough. It’s been something I’ve practiced ever since. To dry-fire practice this skill, begin with your rifle slung. Start slow and get the rifle to your shoulder and disengage the safety with economy of motion. Then complete the process with a dry-fire shot, operation of the action, and finally, engagement of the safety.

Related: The Best Rifle Slings of 2024, Tested and Reviewed

Don’t Forget to Practice with Sticks and Slings

On numerous occasions I’ve watched hunters ineffectively attempt to employ shooting sticks or sling up for a shot. Sometimes this has resulted in missed opportunities. It’s not that either sticks or slings are hard to use—both help you shoot better—the problem is the lack of practice adjusting or setting both up. If you use shooting sticks or have a shooting sling, make working with them a routine part of your dry-fire sessions. Pick a target and go from standing and unprepared, to assuming a shooting position and interacting with the shooting sticks or shooting sling. This will make you smoother and more deliberate with both and prevent you from looking like a lost puppy when trying to use either.

Make Dry-Firing a Regular Thing

The best time to dry-fire practice is on a daily or weekly routine. Problem is, most of us don’t have time for that. At an absolute minimum, start about three weeks before your hunt or the beginning of season, and spend five to 10 minutes every day dry-fire practicing. Your trigger press, management of allowable reticle movement, and rifle operation and manipulation skills will improve greatly. Make sure to incorporate shooting sticks and slings if you use them, and fully and purposefully commit to the process. Sometimes hunts come down to seconds and even inches. Leave as little as possible to chance.

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