Author: Brad Fenson

The sky was filled with the twinkle of a thousand stars as we rode across the pasture in the ATV to put us close to the turkeys. We had heard the birds on the roost the evening before and thought we had a good idea of where to find them. Sneaking through the cedars, we found a long lane to set up decoys and hide in the cover. As the sun started to rise, several big gobblers sounded off. They were so close that it was a little unnerving. We wanted to be close, but the thundering gobbles sounded like…

A Dream Hunt for a Mature Bull Elk and a Tremendous Bull Moose We started down an overgrown cutline right at legal light in the morning. My hunting partner, Jason Frank, from Northern Backcountry Adventures is passionate about chasing elk. From late August until the end of November, he is chirping, bugling, and living with elk. Frank grew up in northern Alberta and started hunting elk when they first appeared on the landscape. Since then, he has mastered calling and decoding where elk live and how they communicate. Our early morning started with a distant bugle we knew well. Several…

Sometimes, all we need in this life is a perfectly cooked wild steak! Brad shows us how to treat your venison cut right from start to finish, for a tender, flavourful experience right off the grill. Beef…watch out! Be sure to subscribe to see all the videos of this cooking series featuring Brad Fenson. An avid outdoorsmen and wild game cook who has lived off the land for most of his life, Brad wants everyone to know just how amazing wild game can be. He shares his passion and knowledge by helping others earn, cook, and enjoy their Alberta harvest…

I have been fascinated with shotguns since I was old enough to hold one to my shoulder. My dad and uncle were shooting hand-launched clay targets, and I begged to try. Reluctantly, they finally set me up with the old 12-gauge pump and showed me how to place my feet. My uncle jokingly knelt behind me, acting like he would catch me when I flew backward from the recoil. My dad launched the clay, and I swung the old smoothbore and jerked the trigger. To everyone’s surprise, including mine, the clay burst into a thousand pieces. The entire family erupted…

It was overcast and the dead-calm air felt heavy as the eastern sky brightened. I pointed to the far end of the field where a moose was meandering through the large round bales scattered randomly in the alfalfa. Binoculars confirmed this sight was a young bull moose. I looked at my wife, Stef, and asked her if she was ready to go. Our girls Maya and Addy were along for their mom’s first moose hunt, and things looked promising. Seeing the moose and understanding what we needed to do to be successful, the girls chattered with excitement. It was November…

We tiptoed down the edge of a large agricultural field and cut across a row of cut stalks to get to the edge of the trees on the other side. A portable blind was popped open and was quickly disguised in the jungle foliage. After adjusting the chair to see out the open window, my guide went out with clippers and cut shooting lanes through the limbs and vines. Sitting quietly, I could feel a bead of sweat run down the entire length of my back. It was late afternoon on my first day in turkey camp. The hunting adventure…

It was warm for mid-October, and the still morning air was perfect for our sandhill crane hunt in southern Saskatchewan. A clear sky and a touch of frost made for a spectacular sunrise on the prairie. The eastern horizon lit up with warm, pastel colors that were exaggerated on the scattered clouds. Calm, quiet days are magical for cranes, birds that often fly six feet off the ground. The wind has the opposite effect, forcing these prehistoric birds to fly high. To add to the excitement, we could hear the croaking sound of birds on the roost from miles away.…

The predawn air was cool, with a gentle breeze from the northwest. The chatter of geese on a distant wetland traveled like radio waves through the clear sky. Excited voices were loud and boisterous, and they foreshadowed the exciting morning ahead. I was hunting with my son Cameron, his wife Jen, and my three grandsons, Memphis, Elijh and Jameson. Good friend Tim Despins took the time to spot a hunt and was along for the adventure too. We were in a barley field targeted by big honkers and a smattering of ducks. It was a special day. Memphis was celebrating…

The inky darkness faded as a glowing light emerged on the eastern horizon. The rugged landscape sat silent. There wasn’t a breath of wind and the birds hadn’t yet woken to greet the morning sun. The sky brightened quickly, and with the growing light came a thundering gobble from up the ridge. The vocal tom started a territorial war from his perch as three other gobblers sounded off in response. My heart started beating faster, and my brain spun out of control, trying to devise a game plan. Perhaps it is the changing seasons and a fresh new, growing landscape.…

Big blips on the sonar confirmed fish below us, but we could not get them to bite no matter what we threw at them. We trolled, jigged and used bait to try to entice a bite. It was a hot summer day and the lakers were fat, lazy and finicky about what was on the lunch menu. I was fishing with friends at Lloyd Lake Lodge on one of their outpost lakes and knew it was time to change things. The fish are always biting; you just need to figure out the presentation. One of the other boats from our…