Nate S

 One of the coolest things about fresh snow is the way it lets you follow trails that were recently used. While winter haunts don't always mirror the rut, they are masterclasses in terrain—revealing the 'preferred' travel patterns that deer fall back on when the pressure is on. This held true on my recent trip into the woods. From the access path, I found the first heavy trail leading into the cover, with a few pins marked for investigation. The snow didn't just have tracks; it was packed like a sidewalk, leading me through a transition from thick bedding cover to a hardwood creek bottom. My heavy, insulated boots felt clumsy compared to the delicate, repetitive hoofprints that had passed through since Saturday. Either there were a ton of deer here, or they used this trail frequently.   The sheer volume of sign was almost a liability. Fresh trails weaved in and out of the bedding in so many directions that it was easy to get distracted and veer 'off course.' Twi...

 A nearly mile-long hike just to reach the boundary of my target timber tract was the gatekeeper to adventure number two. The sky was clear, promising a great day to explore new, potentially untouched ground. The air was crisp and silent, and the sun felt warm as I hiked. Temperatures were forecast to be in the mid- to upper 40s. My aim was a high-stem-count river bottom that stood out as a timber regeneration project with limited “easy” access—a perfect hideaway that I hoped held the area's most elusive whitetails. The overall strategy was to determine whether the area had potential and to seek access to hunt from the river.   I crossed the creek and immediately found a short tassel of rope hanging from a tree, over what appeared to be a mock scrape. In years past, that bit of braided nylon hanging over fresh earth would have deflated my spirit, signaling competition. But this time, it just fueled my fire; they were close, but not deep enough. Before long, I came across ...

The commitment for 2026 runs deep; I've wiped the slate clean—mentally and digitally—deleting years of aimless pin drops from my OnX Hunt app and replacing them with well-thought-out points of interest. The goal is simple: no more aimless roaming. I'll e-scout, drop a handful of prospective waypoints, and let boots-on-the-ground reality dictate the next move. My initial trip onto the public ground started with a frosty breath that crystallized on my mustache, demanding a lengthy, lung-busting hike just to clear the parking lot. The crunch of frozen earth under my boots was the only sound aside from the wind through the hardwoods. I was pleasantly surprised when a subtle pattern broke the fresh blanket of snow laid days prior—several sets of sizeable turkey tracks, crisp and clear. A reminder that while I was focused on November, spring was already leaving its calling card.  I dropped into the woods, immediately picking up a beaten human access path that led straight to a rocky ...

Just after Christmas, my world shrank to the four walls of my living room. A fresh surgical scar is a tight reminder that physical activity beyond walking is a major expedition, confining me to a version of "house arrest." Now, before I get too dramatic, I realize this is the time of year when most Missourians are stuck inside anyway, battling their own mild cases of cabin fever. If I could have chosen a time to be laid up, it would always be these cold winter months. The bare, gray landscape outside my window perfectly mirrors this quiet, forced hibernation; a necessary stillness that's teaching me the unexpected value of slow recovery before spring finally arrives. My forced hiatus has given me the opportunity to reflect on what is important, what I'm missing, and, quite frankly, what I can live without. It's easy to take the little things for granted when we don't take the time to recognize them. I spent the months leading up to surgery completing 100 push...