The MeatEater

Brent is telling two stories his father told him when he was a little boy. They made an impression on him even at an early age. As he's grown older the meaning of the stories remains the same but the reason they're meaningful is easier to see through the eyes of an adult. Brent is also offering up a little first hand advice that could pay huge dividends for your family later on. It's time for MeatEater's "This Country Life" podcast.

Thank you to our sponsors, Case Knives and Stor-Mor.

Shop This Country Life Merch

Connect with Brent and MeatEater

MeatEater on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and Youtube Clips

Subscribe to the MeatEater Podcast Network on YouTube

Shop This Country Life Merch

The nation’s two biggest suppressor dealers allowed customers to walk into their stores yesterday, purchase suppressors, and walk out with them. No fingerprints. No $200 tax. No wait time. They bought gun mufflers like they would firearms, passed instant background checks, and left.

And they didn’t do it in secret. They posted about it on X. Here’s Silencer Central announcing they sold a suppressor over the counter to a South Dakota resident who came into their shop.

Same thing for Texas-based Silencer Shop, though instead of a regular Joe, their customers were guntuber-turned-politician Brandon Herrera and a Texas state representative named Wes Virdell.

The question millions of hunters and gun owners are asking themselves today is, can I do the same? Unfortunately, the answer may not be what you’re hoping for. It depends on who you are, where you live, and whether your local gun shop is willing to take a risk.

This story starts last summer when Congress included a provision in the One Big, Beautiful Bill that eliminated the $200 tax on suppressors. That was great news for eardrums everywhere, but as we reported at the time, gun rights groups saw it as the first step to total suppressor deregulation.

Those groups filed a lawsuit claiming that without the $200 tax, the National Firearms Act (NFA), the federal statute governing suppressor purchase and ownership, was null and void. In 1937, the Supreme Court ruled that the NFA was constitutional under Congress’s Article I power to tax. Without a tax on those items, the lawsuit argued, Congress has no authority to impose restrictions that verify the tax has been paid.

On August 5, a federal judge in Texas named James Hendrix issued a ruling agreeing with the plaintiffs.

“By zeroing out the transfer and making taxes for most NFA firearms, Congress eliminated the constitutional basis for the regulations that formerly supported the taxes for those firearms,” he wrote. “Thus, the challenged NFA provisions exceed Congress’s enumerated powers.”

Of course, we’ve seen this song and dance before. Lone federal judges have issued rulings striking down various gun control policies, but those rulings have never taken effect. That’s because, as the judge did in this case, they paused their rulings for a certain period of time to allow the Department of Justice to request a longer stay. The DOJ always did, and the cases were mired in the federal court system.

“Originally, I was told by the thought leaders in the industry that there was a 100% chance the DOJ was going to appeal this,” Silencer Central CEO Brandon Maddox told us.

But that’s not what happened this time.

Judge Hendrix gave the federal government a week to request to stay his ruling. But on August 12, hours before that deadline was set to expire, Rep. Andrew Clyde took to X to make an announcement few saw coming.

True to their word, the DOJ did not file a request to block the decision. Judge Hendrix’s ruling took effect at 12:01am on August 13 and removed suppressors from the NFA framework.

The problem is, there’s a catch–a pretty big one.

Judge Hendrix’s ruling does not impact state laws requiring suppressor purchase via the NFA system. Fifteen states have laws on the books that require residents to obtain federal approval before taking possession of a suppressor. If you live in one of those states, you can’t buy a gun muffler over the counter.

Here’s a helpful map. The red states are the ones that have state-level restrictions on the books.

Silencer Central has been sounding the alarm about this state-level issue. Last year, they worked in South Dakota and Kansas to repeal these laws, and they have legislation pending in Ohio. But similar bills have stalled in Mississippi and Georgia.

“It's something that we felt like no one was talking about,” he said. “Now, there's some people in the forums going, this really sucks for me. I'm in one of the fifteen states. So, it's not as wide-reaching as people think.”

What’s more, California, Hawaii, Illinois, New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Delaware ban suppressor ownership entirely. Judge Hendrix’s decision does not supersede these bans, so suppressors aren’t suddenly legal in these states, either.

For the rest of us, Judge Hendrix’s decision does open the door to over-the-counter purchases. Whether you decide to walk through that door depends on a few factors.

First, it’s important to know that the ruling only covers the plaintiffs in this case—meaning, the individuals and groups who brought the challenge. That group of people is broad but does not cover all prospective suppressor purchasers.

If you’re not currently a member of one of these organizations, you can join one and purchase a suppressor over the counter. You could also purchase a suppressor from one of the companies that took part in the lawsuit. (Editor’s Note: This does not constitute legal advice. Jordan is not an attorney.)

What’s more, as Maddox explained, a gun shop can also join one of the covered organizations and sell suppressors over the counter—even if the purchaser is not covered under one of the plaintiff categories or the suppressor is not one of the listed manufacturers.

“The dealer has to join one of those associations—and some of them are as cheap as fifteen dollars—and it doesn't have to be a corporate membership or business membership. It just says you have to be a member,” Maddox explained. “Every attorney I’ve spoken with has agreed that if we join, we're covered. And then our customers downstream are covered as well.”

Whether gun shops avail themselves of this opportunity is another question. Here in Texas, I’ve seen several local gun shops post on Facebook that they’re waiting for official guidance from the ATF.

This post was made on August 13, so Mister Guns was aware of the DOJ’s decision not to appeal. But they still want legal cover before slinging suppressors over the counter—understandably so. Unlike Silencer Central, smaller gun shops don’t have teams of legal advisors, and if they mess up, the ATF can shut them down.

Silencer Central is confident in their legal analysis, so they and other big outfits are telling customers that they can come in and bring home a suppressor.

The DOJ can still appeal this decision, so we won’t know whether these protections are locked in until that longer, 60-day appeal period has passed.

“If we believe Congressman Clyde, where he said that the Department of Justice is not going to appeal it, then we should assume the next sixty days they’re not going to. And maybe the ATF waits after that sixty days to see if the DOJ responds, and then after that gives guidance because then it would be kind of firm,” Maddox said.

How the next few months play out will also depend on what the states decide to do. Some states will remove their restrictions. But some might choose to move in the opposite direction. Looking at that map, I can spot a few gray states that might push back against the Trump administration by regulating suppressors—or even banning them—at the state level.

This will have a few implications for hunters. If you live in a state that requires going through the NFA process, you might be prohibited from buying new suppressors in the future if the NFA process ceases to exist. Maddox said that’s a real possibility.

“If you’re in one of the fifteen states and you’ve ever thought about getting a silencer, you may have a short window… If the DOJ lays down and your state’s not going to change their law, you’ll never be able to buy one. So, if you’ve been thinking about getting one, you better get in the process now,” he said.

What’s more, if you plan to travel to one of those states to hunt, you may not be allowed to bring your suppressor unless you have that NFA tax stamp. If I buy a suppressor over-the-counter in Texas but I hope to use it for my next mule deer hunt in Colorado, I won’t be able to under current law. For those who use a suppressor on out-of-state hunts, it might be worth going through the NFA process so you can bring along your gun muffler.

No one knows exactly how this is going to shake out. For now, do your research, find sources you trust, and keep an eye out for future updates. It’s an exciting time in the world of quiet shooting.

Hunting rifles of the last century often earned praise for their utility across multiple hunting seasons or big game pursuits. The same rifle a hunter might use in sheep country would have served him just as well in the big woods back East. Would it have been perfect for either scenario? No, but that type of utility would have earned it a spot at deer camp and in the corner of the family room.

The general hunting rifle has been supplanted by niche, ultra-specific rigs that have more specialization than tenured professors. Need a 6-pound mountain rifle? How about a heavy-barrel varmint gun? Want something you can use in an NRL match? Not many hunters will complain about needing another rifle for a specific pursuit, but there’s something to be said about the rifle that wears many hats.

The Franchi MULE might not excel at one particular category, but that’s not what it tries to accomplish. Even if it doesn’t meet all the scout rifle criteria, there’s no denying the MULE can trace its lineage to Cooper’s design. Since it’s a descendant of scout rifles, I tried to evaluate the MULE as such. Here are the results.

Cartridge Offerings: .223 Rem., .308 Win.

Franchi’s MULE (Momentum Utility Light Elite), builds on the previous Momentum line of rifles but with more general purpose. It features a fluted, 3-lug bolt with a 60-degree throw that’s ideal for quickly cycling. The 16” barrel is free-floated, includes ⅝” x 24 threads (capped), and comes with a 1-in-11 twist for the .308, which strikes a good balance for bullet weight options. The MULE also comes with a slick graphite black cerakote finish on the barrel and receiver.

The stock forend also features three M-LOK rails, one on either side and the bottom. These three rails allow you to mount a bipod, light/laser combo, or other accessories. You also have plenty of sling options, because the MULE has six QD points along the stock. Speaking of the stock, it comes with two interchangeable comb heights that you can quickly remove

I also appreciate the checkering along the palm swell and forend, which provides good texture and grip. The checkering above the magwell is a nice touch if you prefer to anchor your grip around the magazine. I had no problem gripping and running the rifle while dripping sweat in sub-100-degree heat. These modern or “tacticool” features offer a fresh take on the scout rifle.

In 1983, Colonel Jeff Cooper coined the term “scout rifle” and created a set of criteria by which rifles under that label should follow: Scout rifles should be no longer than 39.4”, weigh no more than 6.6 pounds, feature a forward-mounted scope with magnification no greater than 3x, and have a set of iron sights should a scope malfunction occur. They should also be chambered in .308 Win., though he made exceptions, have a 3-pound trigger, and a two-lug 90-degree bolt.

The MULE checks most of Jeff Cooper’s scout rifle boxes except for its weight, barrel length, and three-lug bolt, which features a 60-degree throw. According to the author of The Art of the Rifle, the MULE misses the 6.6 pound cutoff at 7.08 pounds (I weighed my test model at 6.8 pounds unloaded). Its weight technically disqualifies it from earning the scout rifle badge, but unlike boxers and weightlifters, no one’s losing a payday over those 0.2 pounds.

Aside from the weight, the Mule sports a 16-inch threaded barrel, an extended Pic rail, which allows you to mount a traditional scout scope, two sets of reserve iron sights, and a detachable AICS-compatible magazine.

The low-profile slot and post iron sights offer little utility beyond close-quarter shooting, but the flip-up rear peep and front post work well for targets beyond 50 yards. In fact, I was able to ring steel at 100 yards out of the box with the flip-up sights without having to utilize the windage adjustment. The sights are also easy to flip up with one hand for intuitive, speedy field use, and they’re especially helpful if you want to run them with a red dot/reflex sight.

If you already run AICS mags, then you can run them in the MULE. The ambidextrous release takes some convincing to drop the mag, and it’s also not very responsive. That snug fit is great for field purposes; otherwise, this MULE can be a bit stubborn in this regard.

The MULE’s 8.5-inch Pic rail offers 21 slots, enough to mount a traditional scout scope. While it extends over the barrel, the rail is only directly mounted to the receiver. For the purposes of this review, I went with a Sig Sauer TANGO-MSR LPVO 1-6x24. Instead of a classic scout scope, I chose a variable power LPVO. Cooper originally opted for the scout scopes over 40 years ago when many variable power scopes were unreliable and heavier than fixed power or scout scopes.

I tested the MULE from both the bench and the field. As you can see from the chart below, the MULE heats up after three shots. It averaged a 0.71-inch three-shot group with Sig Sauer’s 165-grain Platinum Hunter, while that average jumped to 1.32 inch with five, five-shot groups. Those numbers are decent for a generalist rifle, but certainly not head-turning. Since it was a balmy 97 degrees with 45% humidity, I allowed plenty of cooling time between groups. Still, the last two shots of each group consistently strayed from the first three.

165g Platinum Hunter

For field positions, I shot the MULE from standing and kneeling positions with the flip-up sights at 25, 50, and 100 yards. The bolt cycled without any noticeable drag, and, overall, the rifle handled well. Even though it’s not a lightweight rifle, it handles better than its robust stock might lead you to believe, and I was able to quickly and intuitively cycle the bolt for followup shots. In other words, it’s a fun rifle to run exactly as it’s intended.

The 16-inch barrel makes it ideal for a truck gun and easy to swing if you hunt from a tree stand or shooting house. Groups in that shorter barrel might peter out beyond 300 yards, but if you’re shooting further than that with this setup, you’re kind of missing the point. While this rifle might not adhere to all the scout rules, it nails the 200-yard memo.

The TSA recoil pads make a noticeable difference for felt recoil. I had no way of measuring this during the test, but after the first shot I noticed how minimal it felt for a .308. That recoil (or lack thereof) bodes well for a rifle that’s made for quick, offhand, and subsequent shots. Even after running multiple boxes of ammo through the MULE, I had no inclination of flinching when it came time to shoot from field positions.

At $1,599, the Franchi MULE offers a good value for its versatility. I can easily see this rifle excelling as a bear, pig, deer, or varmint rig with little or no change in a single setup.

It’s like the saying, "You have to know the rules to break them.” And this MULE bucks a few scout rifle rules to make room for a fresh take on Cooper’s classic do-it-all gun.

In fact, if rifle manufacturers didn’t try to adapt their guns in meaningful ways, there might be little to get excited about each year. A few of the MULE’s more modern, “tacticool” features adapt to current hunting and shooting gear, making this rifle more intuitive to carry and operate even at the cost of a few extra ounces. Luckily, this MULE can handle the weight.

This week on the show we're running Alabama public land expert Michael Perry through the "What Would You Do?" gauntlet to see how he'd handle some of the most interesting and tricky deer hunting scenarios we can throw at him.

Connect with Mark Kenyon, Jake Hofer, and MeatEater

Mark Kenyon on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook

MeatEater on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and Youtube Clips

Subscribe to The MeatEater Podcast Network on YouTube

Shop Wired to Hunt Merch and MeatEater Merch

The MeatEater Crew discuss: unprecedented fishing closures; Arkansas is charging hikers; wake-boat impacts; pronghorn migration corridors; and more!

Presented by Can-Am: maker of the best ATVs, SxS, and Utility Vehicles www.can-am.brp.com

Connect with Steve and The MeatEater Podcast Network

Steve on Instagram and Twitter

MeatEater on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube

This is the first instalment of a three-part elk hunting story by FHF founder, Paul Lewis. Stay tuned for the next two segments.

The silence was the worst part. Not the sudden silence of elk themselves, but the silence right after the shot, that sudden crushing, anxiety-filled pit in my stomach. For the entire morning of September 21st, the river bottom I was hunting was a chaotic, screaming, bugling rut fest. Now, the big satellite bull, the one I had just wounded with a poorly placed arrow, had vanished into the head-high marsh grass. The herd had fallen quiet, melting away into the dark jungle of aspens and cottonwoods on the other side of the stubble field.

I stood there, my heart hammering against my ribs, a cold knot of regret tightening in my stomach. The "fifty-yard single-pin strategy," a technique I had only seen described online and had never actually practiced, suddenly felt like a profound self-betrayal.

I raised my binoculars, hands still shaking, and picked him up at eight hundred yards. Through the glass, I could see the fresh, red stain running down his right side, starting just below his withers. He was moving, bugling, and very much alive. The shame of a poorly placed shot was corrosive. The entire season, a lifetime of planning, and a sixteen-year wait for this specific tag now felt tainted by a single, high, limited-penetration mistake.

As a kid in the 1980s, my world was bounded by my Montana hometown and the old family homestead that sat halfway up the dirt road leading to a historic ghost town. I spent my summers wading in the cold waters of the creek that ran below our family cabin, catching small, wild brook trout, and exploring the granite boulders stacked like Legos in the hills above.

One of my most distinct memories of this place as a kid was drinking water directly out of a steel pipe my family had set up to collect the cold spring water seeping directly out of the mountain. As a child, I didn't grasp the unique history of this landscape; it was simply my playground. I didn't truly discover its pull until the summer of 2016, when I climbed a hill in our meadow to scatter my mother's ashes alongside my father's.

When I opened my email in mid-summer of 2025 to find I had drawn the coveted bull elk tag for a nearby unit, the weight of the past came rushing back. I hunted it before in 2009 but spent that entire season on the other side of the range, relying on leads from friends and never even considering the mountains behind our own property. The math of drawing this tag a second time was brutal; even with sixteen bonus points, my odds were barely three percent. The pressure that came with that number wasn't just about the search for a trophy; it was about honoring a multi-generational connection to this specific mountain range.

My family's roots here are literally etched into the earth. My grandfather, Wade V. Lewis Sr., a mining engineer, appropriated a claim for silver and lead in 1924. Twenty-five years later, he and two partners discovered radioactivity at the abandoned site, and when a visiting investor's wife found her chronic bursitis pain vanished after a few visits underground, word spread fast. What began as the Free Enterprise Uranium Mine, Montana's first, became the state's original radon health mine, a business my father ran for a time and my nephew Ryan still runs today.

On the other side of town, deeper into the mountains, lies the ghost town, a place of triumph and quiet tragedy. A Swiss immigrant named Peter Wys discovered silver here in 1868 and died mysteriously within a few years of the find. Norwegian entrepreneur Anton M. Holter acquired the claim in 1875 and developed the Holter Lode; by the late 1880s the town had boomed to 2,500 people.

Unlike the rowdy bachelor camps common to early Montana mining, this was a town for families with schools, churches, and the Fraternity Hall, built in 1893 and still standing today as part of Montana's smallest state park. It was a hard place to live; water was scarce and woodcutters stripped the surrounding hillsides bare to feed the stamp mills. The forest cemetery holds the quietest testament to that hardship: dozens of children's headstones, casualties of the brutal winter of 1888 and the diphtheria epidemic that followed. By 1931, the mines had gone silent and the rails were pulled up. Today, a handful of local families work to preserve what's left.

Our family property is not an old mining claim, as I'd always assumed. It was a homestead, carved out under the Forest Homestead Act of 1906. A Forest Service surveyor named Raymond Mauren walked our meadow in April of 1915, dragging his brass chains to map the boundaries out of what was then the Helena National Forest, and the land was patented to a man named George Walker the following spring. The small, one-room cabin on the property, now claimed by packrats, wasn't a miner's bunkhouse; it was Walker's home, likely built between 1913 and 1915. It's humbling to think this meadow once cleared by one man with a crosscut saw and a horse now serves as our sanctuary, where my parents' ashes rest in soil worked by hand over a century ago.

In the years leading up to drawing this tag, my wife Jen and I spent our summers running a rather large circuit of game cameras on the ridges above the property. We didn't do it with any real expectation of drawing the tag. We did it because we loved the land and wanted to know the wild neighbors we shared it with. It was about learning the terrain, discovering preferred trails, and understanding how the animals used this specific pocket of the mountains.

Through those cameras, we got to know the resident animals by name: Hank the Tank, a massive cinnamon-phase black bear; the non-shedding, hormone-addled "Cactus Bull"; Big Six, a large six-point with enormous whale tails; and a pair of six-point bulls we called Tall Guy and Wide Guy. Wide Guy was what I dream of when I think about bull elk: wide, symmetrical, and heavy, with long sweeping thirds and distinct, aggressively hooked brow tines. He was a digital ghost we watched grow season after season but had never seen in person, a theoretical target we never seriously expected to chase.

Over the years, those cameras taught us a critical lesson: our local elk almost always cleared out of our timber during the chaotic September rut, only filtering back into these drainages once the pressure of rifle season got underway. We tried to figure out their internal clocks, their preferred escape routes, and exactly where they were most likely to materialize. Those preseason images of Wide Guy kept me dreaming. He set the standard.

The unit in question is a lesson in the public-land paradox. It's managed as a premier trophy unit, yet anyone with a general tag can hunt spikes and cows for much of the season. On top of that, thousands of extra cow tags are distributed annually. Along with the hunters, this area has become a notorious playground for large groups of jeepers and UTV trail riders. You are never alone.

My season began in a smoky, orange haze on September 6th, delayed by a solemn trip to New Mexico for one last visit with my Uncle George, a lifelong hunter who passed away after a grueling battle with chronic illness. His parting words to me were that he'd be watching my hunt from wherever he was. Hunting and the outdoors had always been the biggest part of his life, and it was painful to watch him spend his last years stuck alone at home, relying only on old memories. It was a reminder that I wanted to make this season epic and earn more memories before I was too old to fully enjoy them.

My official first day of hunting was a scramble since I'd gotten back to Montana late the night before. By the second day, the reality of modern hunting pressure had set in, but I wasn't facing it alone. I'd found out late in the summer that two of my former law enforcement colleagues, Chris and Ed, had drawn the same coveted tag as a party. The three of us shared a long history as patrol cops and detectives. Chris and Ed with the Bozeman Police Department, myself with the Gallatin County Sheriff's Office. When you spend years working cases together, you develop a quiet shorthand, a dark humor, and a mutual understanding of human nature that carries over perfectly into the elk woods.

Ed is a gruff, salt-of-the-earth Montana native, raised in the hard-rock mining town of Butte, who'd give you the shirt off his back if he knew you needed it. He carries that proud Butte grit in everything he does. Ed and I had served on our local Special Response Team together, even working together as a marksman/observer team for a time. This is the kind of arrangement that builds a level of trust where your confidence relies entirely on the other man's eye and instinct.

Then there was Chris, a Louisiana transplant who hadn't just moved to Montana; he'd migrated here like a pilgrim chasing a calling, leaving the humid bayous and piney woods of the South for the rugged, uncompromising Montana lifestyle. Over the years he'd evolved into a meticulous, gear-savvy die-hard who lived for the physical challenge of the high country, and we'd always shared a mutual obsession with gear.

Our preseason scouting had kept us separate, they focused on the central area of the range while I stuck to the southern ridges around our family land. But our paths converged on September 7th. We met on our side-by-sides at the head of a long access road, only to find it already choked with other UTVs.

Further down the drainage, we passed a near-permanent hunting camp that had been there since at least the 4th of July, blatantly violating the fourteen-day camping limit. A twelve-foot wall of firewood and a circle of campers resembling a pioneer wagon train blocked access to the public basin behind. It was a stark reminder of the friction that builds when public resources grow scarce.

Eventually, my nephew Ryan gave me a tip and coordinated access to a piece of private river bottom. It was here, in the dense cottonwood groves and willow thickets, that the chaotic energy of the September rut climaxed.

Look out for part two next week.

Clay Newcomb explores the science, mystery, and raw power of lightning through the firsthand stories of John Donovan, a bear hunter who was struck while sitting in a tree stand, and Spence Spencer, a farmer who was hit while working in his chicken pasture. Both survived, but neither walked away unchanged.

Clay also sits down with weather analyst Joshua Wisel of weather225.com to nerd out on what actually happens when lightning forms, why it can strike miles from a storm, why trees and tall objects are so dangerous, and which common lightning myths are completely wrong.

Thank you to our sponsor, Tecovas.

If you have comments on the show, send us a note to [email protected]

Connect with Clay and MeatEater

Clay on Instagram

MeatEater on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and Youtube Clips

MeatEater Podcast Network on YouTube

Shop Bear Grease Merch

Spencer Neuharth hosts MeatEater Trivia with Clay Newcomb, Mark Kenyon, Brent Reaves, Tony Peterson, Maggie Hudlow, and Bear Newcomb.

Connect with MeatEater on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and YouTube Clips

Subscribe to MeatEater Podcast Network on YouTube

Shop Trivia Merch