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In this interview episode, Cal sits down with Representative Gabe Vasquez of New Mexico to talk about targeting catfish in D.C., legislation that hunters should care about, and so much more.

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Whitetail hunters love to argue about which state holds the biggest and baddest bucks. But which one is really the best?

Well, a lot of what makes hunting ground “the best” depends on your personal preferences. Do you like big bucks, and you cannot lie? Maybe you just like to hunt around fewer people. Or maybe you like to feel like a kid in a candy shop, surrounded by opportunities for deer of all ages. Do you prefer to travel or are you more of a homebody? Maybe you like to manage a food plot and be able to set up trail cams.

There is no real definitive answer for the best whitetail state, so we asked the crew what their favorites are. And ultimately, we want you to determine which state will be crowned the Best Whitetail State by voting below. Did your favorite whitetail state not get included? Sound off in the comments!

It's the final round, and whitetail roots run deep in these two midwestern states. Michigan and Wisconsin are both saturated with deer hunting culture. But which will claim the crown? You decide!

“My favorite whitetail state is Wisconsin. It's got the hardcore deer culture of Michigan AND big bucks. It's also where I own deer hunting land, which I love to manage the habitat on. My connection to that 40 acres is stronger than ever. I can smell it just thinking about it. And although I grew up hunting Michigan and Wisconsin, Wisconsin is where we had our real deer camp. A deer camp is a special thing; I wouldn't be who I am today without that camp.” - Janis Putelis

Deer Population Estimate: 1.6 Million

“My pick is Michigan, and the reasons might surprise you. No, Michigan is not the best state to visit if you want a slam-dunk chance at killing a giant buck. But if you want a true whitetail cultural experience, this state cannot be beat.

Opening day here is akin to a national holiday, roadside box blinds and ladder stands are more commonly seen than billboards, and the buck poles - holy wah - if you haven't been to a Michigan buck pole, you haven't quite yet lived. Not only that, but we've got a pile of deer in the state, plentiful public lands in most regions, and so many other hunters that you'll never have to fear being lonely, lost, or lacking for a deer-dragging partner. Finally, the Great Lakes state has produced some of our nation's most noted hunters. Folks like Fred Bear, Ted Nugent, John Eberhart, Andy May, and, of course, Steve Rinella and Janis Putelis! I dare you to disagree.” - Mark Kenyon

Deer Population Estimate: 2 Million

(Harvest data via the National Deer Association’s 2024 Deer Report.)

Note: Votes will not be counted from the comment section, so please use the voting box below to select your favorite state and ensure it advances to the next bracket!

This probably says more about me than I care to face, but I really want my daughters to be good deer hunters. I don’t want them to just love going hunting; I want them to love the process.

The anxiety I feel around this probably has a lot to do with the fact that I have facilitated pretty much all of their success in the deer woods to date. Yet, I know that if you do everything for kids, they don’t learn to do anything for themselves. If you don’t believe this, spend an evening talking to a middle-school teacher sometime.

The internal battle I deal with over doing too much for my daughters, and the way in which I want them to love the deer game, is real. But, as they’ve aged, I’ve discovered sneaky ways to get them more involved in the entire process, and I think it’s helping to nudge them in the right direction. This really begins and ends with thinking about the different parts of any given hunt, and where you can get them involved.

The only private spot I have to hunt that’s within two hours of my house is a small, 25-acre chunk in the suburbs. I’m grateful to have it, believe me, but it’s also really challenging. I share it with the landowner who hunts quite a bit, and am lucky enough to bring my daughters out to hunt it.

That’s a lot of pressure for not a lot of land. Land that is surrounded by houses, which means shot selection and execution are always a dominant thought. This was definitely on my mind when I settled in over a small pond on the property a few weeks back.

It was 87 degrees, so I figured the water might draw in a buck or a doe. Two hours into the sit, it drew in both, and while the doe winded me instantly, a small buck stood around for a while before walking off. As soon as he did, a much better deer showed up, and when he stood broadside at 22 yards, I watched my arrow zip through his ribs.

It was one of those no-doubt shots, and I knew he wouldn’t go 75 yards. I texted my daughters, who had just gotten home from volleyball, to see if they’d help with the blood trail. When my wife dropped them off, I told them this one was all theirs and settled into third place. If you know me, you know how painful that was.

Well, the girls trailed him through some thick stuff, through a little pine desert, and out into a powerline. According to my onX, he’d gone farther than I knew he should, so that didn’t feel great. I still let the girls take lead on the trail, and when we lost him on a mowed path in the powerline, I started to question my judgment.

It took maybe 15 minutes, but one of my daughters picked up blood down the trail, and a few minutes later, she found him. That was a hunt they mostly weren’t involved in, that suddenly became all about their skills. They haven’t stopped talking about that blood trail since, and I can’t help but think that finding those moments to include them will only help stoke the fire. This is something I learned when they were far younger.

The easiest way to teach my daughters about deer was to take them scouting when they were younger. If you’re in the off-season, this is a low-pressure style of getting into the woods where you can walk wherever you want, and make as much noise as you want. Both of those things are good for kids.

Having them find rubs, and then explaining the sign to them, is educational in a way that just hunting with them will never be. I think this is partially because it’s a hands-on approach, and also helps stoke curiosity, which is the secret sauce to staying really interested in something.

Instead of marching them into the woods for a hunt that is all set up and ready to go, teach them about deer in the months leading up to the hunt. Make them wonder about where deer live and why they do what they do, and then take them hunting. The pieces will click together much better, and even if they don’t recognize it, they’ll have some level of buy-in to the actual hunt that matters so much.

And then if they do kill, or you do, you have a prime opportunity to involve them in a part of the process that keeps them tethered to deer all year long.

Over the last few years, my daughters have killed a dozen deer between them. We butchered them all ourselves. Their role in the process has gone from grabbing a roll of freezer paper, or maybe labelling the packages, to helping me skin, trim, and generally take whole parts of their deer and turn them into meal-sized portions fit for the freezer.

They don’t love it, no more than most of us actually love the butchering process. But they do love being involved in it, because it’s important. It’s also important for them to point out, throughout the year, whose deer we might be serving up for dinner. They stay connected to the hunt throughout the off-season in a positive way, and they learn that if they help with the butchering process, they are free to brag about their deer-killing prowess every time we thaw a package of venison.

While they may not be able to help you hang a ladder stand or glass for multiple evenings in a row throughout the summer, your kids can be a big part of the hunting process. Find ways to involve them and keep them curious, and you just might light a fire that will burn until it’s time for them to teach their own kids about deer and how to hunt them.

I stood up, swearing, as I watched the buck I’d been tracking all morning finally catch my wind and sprint for the private land downslope. The does that were with him scattered, bouncing downhill and out of reach. The buck bounded over the barbed wire and then, as if he understood the meaning of the property line he’d just crossed (he probably did), he stopped and looked back at me, smug and handsome. Eight tines gleaming in the sun.

I was exhausted. It had been eight hours since I’d pulled into the trailhead at four o’clock that morning, and the heat of the late afternoon sun beat down relentlessly. Sweat stung my eyes, and my rifle felt heavier than normal. For the past four hours, I’d stalked the buck and his small herd of does. I was on the nearly treeless south-facing slope of a drainage near where I lived in northwestern Montana, and I was defeated.

I trudged back to the car, and as I slipped my rifle off my shoulder, I caught the sunwarmed scent of the worn leather of the rifle strap. I immediately recalled my first ever hunt, one with my grandfather in our home state of New Hampshire.

I woke up early and drove through snow-covered back roads to my grandparents’ house. My Grandma greeted me with a hug and a plate of biscuits. My Grandpa was already down in the workshop waiting for me. His workshop, which was located in the basement, was clad with taxidermied deer, hunting photos, and a library of Louis L’Amour books. It always smelled like leather and gun oil and books and old wood. As a child, I stared in awe at the photos and antlers, enthralled by stories of his adventures. To this day, I can’t clean a rifle or read a Western without remembering my grandfather.

That morning, Grandpa was fiddling around with a backpack in the workshop, shuffling here and there, comparing different boxes of slugs and handing me orange vests to find one that I liked. He selected a walking stick from a pile of them leaning in the corner, and then he handed me a shotgun to see how it fit my shoulder.

My grandparents’ house backed up to nearly a thousand acres of patchworked conservation lands managed by various state and local entities. Grandpa explained that we were going to walk out into the back woods, as he called them, until we found tracks in the new snow. He’d sit down by a tree as I followed the tracks for a while to see if we could scare up any deer.

Excited, I pulled one of the orange vests on over my coat, and we set out into the forest. Every few steps, Grandpa leaned on his stick, scanning the trees for tracks or deer from beneath his orange-brimmed hat. I followed, heart pounding and trying my hardest to keep noise to a minimum while we snuck through the snow-muffled forest.

We soon found a couple sets of fresh deer tracks leading further into the woods. Grandpa whistled softly, gesturing for me to follow them. He leaned back against a tree and cradled his shotgun in his arms. I followed the tracks for a while, over a frozen bog and through thick stands of birch. Eventually, the woods opened up, and the tracks continued into a large clearing. I found a boulder at the edge and sat against it, scanning the edges of the clearing and listening hard. I could feel the day warming up slightly. Squirrels skittered and cackled in the trees above me. With every sound of the waking forest, my adrenaline rose, and I clutched the shotgun. I peered through the low-powered scope with hope thudding in my heart.

After an hour or so with no deer, I hung my head and followed my tracks back to Grandpa. When I found him, he looked like he was a part of the forest, as if he’d always been there and always would be. Yet, his bright orange and dark green flannel stood out against the backdrop of snow and birch trees. He raised his hand in a silent wave.

I told him about my morning, and he laughed and said something like, “That’s usually how it goes. What a beautiful morning out here. We should head back anyway, I think your Grandma has some more biscuits and ham that she needs help with.”

We crept through the trees at Grandpa’s steady yet fluid pace. Following his steps, I felt more attuned to the forest instead of like something that didn’t belong there. On the walk in, I had been so nervous about making noise that I only paid attention to myself. Now, I noticed everything–a faint smell of woodsmoke through the cold, the way the snow on the south sides of the trees wilted under the late-morning sun, the low, heartbeat-like thrum of a grouse.

When we got back to the house, we shared biscuits and coffee with Grandma, recounting the morning. I realized that, for the first time, I was part of one of my grandfather’s hunting adventures that had so captured me as a child. I was hooked.

Back at the trailhead in Montana, I looked up from the car and, for the first time since spooking the deer, forgot my frustration. The view was spectacular–golden grass-covered hills and deep ravines dark with thick stands of spruce, all rising to snowcapped mountains in the distant haze of early sunset.

I unloaded my rifle, looking closely at it. It was a gift from my grandfather, in his early years of dementia. He’s no longer here, but for years he’d carried the same rifle with the same tooled leather strap, imbuing it with his sweat and effort and hope, as I did now.

I didn’t fully know it on that morning in New Hampshire, but that hunt was the first of many. Since then, I’ve hauled that Winchester rifle all over the place–high sagebrush country in south-central Oregon, towering larch and ponderosa forests in Montana, the frozen hills and thick, wet woods of New Hampshire. Some hunts ended with meat in the freezer; most haven’t. Regardless, each has added chapters to the hunting stories I’ll tell my own children and grandchildren, stories that, one way or another, will always include Grandpa.

I laid the rifle on the backseat and jumped in the car, creeping it down the dirt road. Dusk-cooled air streamed through the open window. Maybe that buck would be back in the morning. Either way, I’d be there to pick up the trail.

In this Spike Camp episode, Rich and Byrd sit down to unpack their latest hunts in Idaho and Wyoming. From brutal early mornings and carb-loading on Pop-Tarts to chasing bulls through rugged country, the guys break down what went right, what went wrong, and what it taught them. They talk fitness carryover from the barn to the backcountry, how lack of sleep and nutrition can crush you in the field, and why patience might be the hardest weapon to master. Along the way there’s plenty of camp banter—acorns vs. “ay-corns,” beard debates, and stories of close calls that will stick with you long after the season ends. It’s a raw look at hunting, resilience, and brotherhood—because sometimes the biggest takeaway from the mountains isn’t an elk on the ground, but the lessons you bring back with you.

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This week on the show I’m conducting a comprehensive review of the many different approaches to killing mature bucks in October that expert hunters have shared with me over the course of Wired to Hunt’s 17-year history.

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The most hated article I’ve ever published is, without question, this one from 2023: “5 Common Cartridges I’ll Never Hunt Deer With.” The blowback was swift and severe, and some of it was even fair. But I wonder if what I’m about to say will generate an even larger monsoon of vitriol–and that is, I think the .30-06 Springfield is an overrated deer cartridge.

Listen, I get it, ok? Calling the aught-six overrated is like calling Michael Jordan overrated. It’s the kind of hot take that seems like it’s meant to make people mad without offering anything helpful or useful. But that’s not my intention. I understand, as MeatEater readers pointed out during October Madness two years ago, that the .30-06 is perhaps the most popular deer cartridge of all time. It kills deer dead, it’s cheap and easy to find, and millions of hunters have used it successfully since its adoption by the U.S. military in 1906.

If you’re one of those hunters, and you love shooting the 120-year-old cartridge, don’t let me stop you. Carry on, brother. Go in peace.

But if you’re someone who’s never enjoyed shooting your grandfather’s old .30-06 but assumed that’s the price you pay to hunt deer, keep reading. You’re not crazy or a wimp, and there are better options out there.

My argument is pretty simple: the .30-06 has more juice than you need to kill a deer. It’s true that more energy on target is rarely a bad thing. As I’ve written elsewhere, increasing bullet energy may increase the odds of inducing hydrostatic shock. But it’s also true that poking a hole in the right place can kill a deer almost as quickly as hitting its “off” switch. Plus, you know where the heart and lungs are in every deer you’ll ever see. We still don’t understand what causes hydrostatic shock, and chasing it can be a fool’s errand.

For that reason, most hunters agree that selecting a cartridge you can shoot accurately is more important than chasing bullet velocity and energy. You might be able to shoot your .30-06 just fine, and I’m with you–I have no trouble shooting mine. But if you can step down to something softer on the shoulder, why wouldn’t you? My goal is always to balance ballistics with recoil: I want something powerful enough to punch through a shoulder blade but not so powerful that I dislike a long practice session at the range.

Let’s put some numbers on these bones. First, recoil. Recoil is highly dependent on rifle weight and powder charge, but these numbers from Chuck Hawks’ recoil table give you a sense of how the .30-06 compares to other common deer cartridges.

It’s been said that the .30-30 has killed more deer than any other cartridge. The .243 Win. is a famous deer killer, as are the .270 Win. and the 7mm-08. I hunt deer every year with a 6.5 Creedmoor, and I’ve never failed to recover an animal. Given these facts, it seems sensible to favor cartridges that kick less but still get the job done.

And they do get the job done. I don’t necessarily ascribe to this benchmark (mostly because I know so many bowhunters who kill deer every year), but 1,000 ft.-lbs is bandied about as the minimum bullet energy needed to dispatch a deer. Energy imparted also depends on bullet construction, but putting that wrinkle aside for now, here are the distances at which those deer cartridges above dip below 1,000 ft.-lbs.

These numbers are approximate, but as you can see, the lighter-recoiling cartridges maintain >1,000 ft.-lbs. of energy at most common hunting distances. I don’t know what percentage of deer are shot within 100 yards, but I bet it’s close to a majority. On the other end of the spectrum, I’d be surprised if even 1% of deer are killed beyond 400 yards, though your specific needs will be dictated by where and how you hunt.

Bottom line? The .30-06 produces more recoil than other common deer cartridges, but unless you plan to take a shot beyond 500 yards, it doesn’t offer a tremendous in-the-field advantage.

But it sure does kill those deer dead. Fans of the .30-06 report that deer, much like our foes in World War II, often collapse when confronted with the raw power of the ‘06. I get that, but I think there are better options if you’re looking for an Ubermensch deer cartridge.

Take another look at the charts above. The 300 Win. Mag. and the 7mm Rem. Mag. both produce more recoil than the .30-06, but you probably don’t care too much about that if you’re already partial to the thirty-aught. However, those two other cartridges also offer significantly better downrange performance than the ‘06. They’re both humming along above 1,000 ft.-lbs. at nearly 1,000 yards, which offers about 100-150 additional yards of range (if you, for some reason, want to shoot that far). They also hit with more energy at the closer distances you’re more likely to actually take a shot.

Again, I don’t think you need a .30-06, 300 Win. Mag., or a 7mm Rem. Mag. to hunt deer. I suppose if you plan to shoot beyond 600 yards, those hotter cartridges might be necessary. But if you are dead-set on high-powered magnums, I think the 300 Win. Mag. and 7mm Rem. Mag. are better options–not to mention all the modern, usually more accurate cartridges that best even those tried-and-true designs.

I’m not suggesting–and never will–that the .30-06 is a bad deer cartridge. If you’re looking for a cartridge that can easily take a whitetail while also stepping up to elk, moose, and pretty much everything else in North America, the .30-06 is a great choice. But if you’re looking for a dedicated deer round, there are better options.

The ‘06 became a popular deer cartridge because deer are the most popular big game animal, and as a U.S. military round, the .30-06 was cheap and easy to find. The match makes sense, and it’s why thousands of hunters feel nostalgic for the old rifle round. Those hunters probably have a father or grandfather who shot dozens of deer with a sporterized M1903 Springfield or a Remington or Winchester from a Sears catalog. Those memories and associations are understandable and totally human, and if that’s why you love your .30-06 deer rifle (along with the aforementioned ability of the cartridge to kill deer dead), keep using it!

But if you’re a new hunter or someone who doesn’t enjoy hunting with granddad’s deer gun, you should know there are new and established cartridges that, in my humble opinion, are more suitable for deer than the old ‘06.

Whitetail hunters love to argue about which state holds the biggest and baddest bucks. But which one is really the best?

Well, a lot of what makes hunting ground “the best” depends on your personal preferences. Do you like big bucks, and you cannot lie? Maybe you just like to hunt around fewer people. Or maybe you like to feel like a kid in a candy shop, surrounded by opportunities for deer of all ages. Do you prefer to travel or are you more of a homebody? Maybe you like to manage a food plot and be able to set up trail cams.

There is no real definitive answer for the best whitetail state, so we asked the crew what their favorites are. And ultimately, we want you to determine which state will be crowned the Best Whitetail State by voting below. Did your favorite whitetail state not get included? Sound off in the comments!

Kansas beat out Arkansas, and Michigan came out on top over North Dakota. So now you have to decide who reigns supreme between the whitetail mecca of Michigan and the big bucks of Kansas.

“My favorite whitetail state is Kansas. Giant bucks, one buck tag per hunter, limited entry for out-of-state hunters, and conservative season dates for firearm hunters make for giant bucks and great bowhunting. This Great Plains state has incredible soils, which translate to incredible whitetails. If you live there or can get draw, you’ll probably have a great hunt.” - Clay Newcomb

Deer Population Estimate: 650,000

“My pick is Michigan, and the reasons might surprise you. No, Michigan is not the best state to visit if you want a slam-dunk chance at killing a giant buck. But if you want a true whitetail cultural experience, this state cannot be beat.

Opening day here is akin to a national holiday, roadside box blinds and ladder stands are more commonly seen than billboards, and the buck poles - holy wah - if you haven't been to a Michigan buck pole, you haven't quite yet lived. Not only that, but we've got a pile of deer in the state, plentiful public lands in most regions, and so many other hunters that you'll never have to fear being lonely, lost, or lacking for a deer-dragging partner. Finally, the Great Lakes state has produced some of our nation's most noted hunters. Folks like Fred Bear, Ted Nugent, John Eberhart, Andy May, and, of course, Steve Rinella and Janis Putelis! I dare you to disagree.” - Mark Kenyon

Deer Population Estimate: 2 Million

(Harvest data via the National Deer Association’s 2024 Deer Report.)

Note: Votes will not be counted from the comment section, so please use the voting box below to select your favorite state and ensure it advances to the next bracket!

In this episode, we head to western Kentucky to visit the home of The World's Greatest Small Game Hunter, Kevin Murphy. From his hunting rigs to his swamp rabbit hound dogs, Kevin brings us in with a tour of his Ohio River bottom property. Presented by Stor-Mor Portable Buildings

Janis Putelis guest hosts MeatEater Trivia with Bronson Strickland, Spencer Neuharth, Seth Morris, Brody Henderson, Cory Calkins, and Sam James.

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