by Shane Jahn There was a time I’d have said, “heck no, no way, it ain’t happening!” To me, scoping a revolver was akin to mounting a telescope on a Winchester Model ’92 carbine. It just isn’t proper! Heck, it might even be against the law! Then, I surpassed or entered, depending on whose definition you follow, the realm of middle age. Now I can see (pun intended) the value of an optic. I’m still set enough in my ways that I do not prefer optics on my revolvers or lever-acti

Another rifle I’ve always connected to Mr. Wootters is the Ruger No. 1 in 45-70 Government he used to collect the Nhamaruza Leopard in 1972 while hunting in Mozambique. From the first time I saw a photo of Wootters kneeling by the beautiful spotted cat with the No. 1 in his hand, I wanted one. I wanted one so bad that I bought three!

With Mrs. Wootters’ blessing, we’re bringing selected works of John Wootters together in a new Gun Tales book. Now you can have John Wootters back in your hands—and help make sure his work stays there for the next generation.

The 308 Winchester has been the parent case for a lot of good rounds since its inception in 1952, including the 243 Winchester, 260 Remington, 7mm-08 Remington, 338 Federal, and 358 Winchester. There isn’t much a true hunter can’t bag with this assortment of cartridges pushing good bullets designed for penetration. We’ve used the 308 Winchester and 7mm-08 Remington to hunt a variety of critters at home in Texas and in South Africa.

Whenever Jim, Shane, and I get together for evening coffee, the conversation often meanders back to how we can make Gun Tales a better place. How can we put our great Gun Tales family members first? How do we make newcomers feel more welcome? How can we get to know everyone better? How can we deliver that same anticipation that you used to have while waiting for the next issue of your favorite gun magazine?

One way we can shoot more for less is by utilizing firearms chambered in 22 LR that are similar to the centerfire guns we are hunting with. A variety of twenty-twos can be had in a multitude of configurations to mimic our big guns. Bolt action rifles, lever actions, pumps, semi-autos, single shots—they are all out there. Same goes for the handgun hunter and that’s what we’re focusing on today.

For a long time, I ignored the concept of the Bisley grip frame. It didn’t look like the traditional plow handle of the sleek Colt Single Action Army. Nor did it share the similar graceful silhouette of the classic Ruger Flattop, so it couldn’t be as good. Same can be said of the curved lever versions found on some lever action rifles. You don’t know what you don’t know.

There are shooters and there are gun guys. The distinction between the two is seldom blurred. As with any rule or generality, however, the fun is in breaking it. With that in mind, I give you the Savage 99. I want to take you on a tour through the inception and evolution of this iconic platform. Before we embark, I want to break down our premise—The Gentleman of Lever Guns. What does this mean and why does the Savage 99 qualify?

“The Land of Thirst,” better known as the Karoo, sits in the southern region of South Africa. It’s amazing how so much of this country near Cradock reminds me of my home in far West Texas. Steep desert mountains, rock-littered ground, red soil, and thorny vegetation. If the acacia trees were replaced with mesquites, you’d hardly notice the difference.

It was mid-November 1978. I had been on the job as the editor of GUNS magazine for just eight months as I found myself on a jet traveling from San Diego to St. Louis. This was to be my first national assignment, and to say I was somewhat trepidatious would be an understatement on a grand scale. Barely twenty-five years old, my journalism school training and my life-long passion for firearms and hunting had gotten me the job.

As a gun writer with the opportunity to test and try different rifles, I’ve used a number of different rifle models and cartridges for buffalo in many different countries. Some have been good, some have been great, and others are near and dear to my heart—I made them permanent residents at my home. Let’s take a look at some of the buffalo rifles I’ve loved over the years.

But there is more to this story. Ray knew how much I was yearning to hunt some African game. However, I was unable to bring firearms on my trip as I was not on a “scheduled safari hunt” for that purpose. Ray did have in his keep three long guns for use on official business.

Hunt long enough, and you’re eventually going to mess up. If you’ve never lost an animal, count your blessings and you might want to go out and buy a lottery ticket because you are extremely fortunate and very lucky. You are also probably one day closer to having an agonizing day in the field! As I approach 40 years of hunting I must admit I’ve experienced some mishaps along the way. What follows are a few that stand out. By sharing these episodes, I hope to accomplish two th

It has often been said by many experts that the diminutive Sparrowhawk is only capable of taking on prey no larger than the common field mouse. But let it be known that the field of ornithology is filled with cheats, scallywags, swindlers, and liars. A more dishonest profession likely does not exist. Furthermore, I would surmise that ornithologists and attorneys likely attend the same family reunions. But what is all this talk of birds? This is a gun rag, ain’t it?!

The scorching sun hung high above the Chihuahuan Desert as the lawman carefully made his way up a steep limestone escarpment, mindful not to drive the arched spears of Lechuguilla into his shins as he secured footing to make the next push upward. A fall among the boulders below would be much more painful, if not life-altering. Faint scuffs on the slick rock convinced him that the men he was after had scaled the looming cliffside.

A fellow once told me that, regarding feral hogs, there are two kinds of places...them that’s got ‘em and them that’s gonna get ‘em. Feral hogs, if they are anything, are adaptive. We even have them out here in this high, dry desert country of the Texas Big Bend. They are tough, prolific, and destructive...oh, and they’re really fun to hunt.

For the past five years, I’ve been trying to shoot a bull. When I was twelve, my buddy and I tracked down a cow that had been wounded by poachers and put her down with muzzleloaders. I got close two years ago when I had my bow drawn back at a bull standing at thirty yards for over a minute. Sadly, he never presented an ethical shot, and I had to let him go.

The countryside was mostly flat as it spread away from a rocky hill known locally as Kudu Mountain, and it was a mixture of acacia, thorn and red dirt. Standing in the shadow of a large acacia, I watched Egyptian gees muddle in a waterhole two football fields long and half as wide. I knew a duiker with magnificent horns lived along the damn, and that warthogs polluted the area, often grunting and wallowing in the goo surrounding one of the few oases this side of the Orange Ri

It seems common these days that folks often name deer. I’m not talking about pets, although some wild deer become so predictable and accustomed to hunter activity that they appear somewhat domesticated, even on huge ranches. We feed a lot of corn on the ranch I hunt. It helps the wild game; deer, javelinas, quail, various birds, and so on, by providing a little extra nourishment and it helps the hunter to see animals that would otherwise go unnoticed in the masses of mesquite

It seems that time can be a tricky thing to master. I very specifically remember that when I was a kid, time was stubborn and had little to no interest in passing. It didn't seem to matter if I was waiting for the morning to arrive, or waiting for the summer school break. Time could not be rushed, and no amount of begging could convince it.