Allie Bama - our hunting dog.
By the time Christmas rolls around, most of us say
we've finally slowed down. Or at least,
that's what we tell ourselves, right? Guns get
cleaned, or let's be real, they just end up
leaning in a corner because we're tired. Tags?
They're punched or folded, or if you're
anything like me, probably lost for a week. The
woods get so quiet you can hear yourself think.
That's about when the year sneaks up and taps
you on the shoulder.
This year kind of sticks with me. I finally got my
first bull elk, which I’d been daydreaming
about forever, seriously, maybe a decade. I figured
that’d be my big highlight, my best-ever
hunting moment. And yeah, it was special. Really
special.
But hunting has a way of keeping you honest.
But honestly, the lesson I’m taking away
didn’t show up on a mountain or anywhere else.
It showed up while I was just squirrel hunting in my
backyard with a Christensen .22 Magnum. Just me,
close to home. No pressure, no fuss, no big
expectations. It just feels good hunting where you
live, on your own schedule, with nobody judging.
At one point, an Amazon driver rolled up, rolled
down his window, and just went, "How's it
going?" I held up four squirrels, grinning like
an idiot. He just laughed and said, "My mom
loves fried squirrel. You should try it."
That hunt also made me think about how some tools
just end up where they belong. Squirrels? Took
'em with the .22 Mag. But my Marlin 1894 in .44
Magnum, now that's my house gun. It goes
everywhere with me, out back. It's small, fast,
packs a punch, and always feels right. Plus,
it's an awesome self-defense gun.
But honestly, none of this works without my people
at home. Wendy, my wife, gets it. Hunting isn't
something I just hand off to someone else; it's
part of who I am. She puts up with my early alarms,
muddy boots, and stories she's probably heard
way too many times, because she knows why it
matters. Then there's Brenn, my daughter. That
rockstar is doing well in her junior year at William
& Mary.
This year also meant meaningful work with the
industry through
The Lever-Action Chronicles. Telling
stories about rifles, craftsmanship, and the people
who still believe things should be built right, not
just fast.
Another thing I realized this year. My favorite gig
in this whole outdoor world is just being the
connector. I like helping good people meet cool
ideas, and cool ideas find the right folks.
Sometimes that just means making introductions,
connecting dots, opening a door, and stepping back
to watch something good take off. This
community's full of talent, and when the right
people line up, awesome things happen.
That's why I'm pumped for 2026 -
The Year of the Maker. It's time to
shout out the folks who keep everything rolling
machinists, engineers, designers, factory crews, and
all those family businesses who build the gear we
count on. The outdoor industry isn't just brands
and logos. It's real people. And their stories
deserve to be told.
So, as the year wraps up, big thanks to everyone in
this industry for a wild ride.
Christmas really does put things in perspective,
doesn't it? Family. Friends. Maybe remembering
to check on a buddy who's been lying low. The
end of the year can get heavy, and honestly, hunters
are just better at sticking together than going
solo.
From our family, Wendy and Brenn, the pups, to
yours, and from all of us at The Hunting Wire, thank
you and Merry Christmas.
