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On November 21, 2004, a group of hunters gathered at a remote cabin in northern Wisconsin for the opening weekend of deer season. But what should have been a weekend of camaraderie and hunting turned into a nightmare.

One of the men discovered a stranger sitting in a tree stand on their property. A confrontation followed, and within minutes, the woods erupted in gunfire.

When the shooting stopped, six hunters were dead and two others were seriously wounded. The gunman had disappeared into the forest, leaving behind a scene of unimaginable violence. It was one of the deadliest incidents involving hunters in American history, and the tragedy sent shockwaves across the country.

The shooter was Chai Soua Vang, a 36-year-old Hmong American hunter from Minnesota. Vang was arrested later that day, but the circumstances surrounding the shooting quickly became the subject of intense debate. Survivors described an unprovoked attack, while Vang claimed he had acted in self-defense after being threatened and shot at by members of the hunting party.

As investigators pieced together what happened, the case exposed deep tensions surrounding race, cultural identity, and hunting traditions in rural Wisconsin. Allegations of racial slurs and discrimination complicated an already contentious investigation, while conflicting accounts of the shooting left questions about how the confrontation escalated into a massacre.

Vang was ultimately convicted of six counts of first-degree intentional homicide and sentenced to life in prison. But even after the verdict, disagreements over what happened in those woods—and why—persisted.

In this episode of Blood Trails, host Jordan Sillars revisits the tragedy through interviews with investigators, people connected to the victims, and others familiar with the case. Their accounts reveal the terrifying sequence of events, the investigation that followed, and the lasting impact on the families and communities involved.

Click here to listen on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or YouTube.

Got a tip about this case or know about another you think we should cover? Send us an email at [email protected].

Feature Image via AP

Late October is here and things are about to change fast. This week on Rut Fresh Radio, we’re joined by Phil Tuttle in Illinois, Jordan Budd in Nebraska, and Josh Henson in Texas for fresh, boots-on-the-ground reports from across the country. We’re talking scrape activity, mature buck movement, the impact of warm weather, and why the next cold front could be the trigger hunters have been waiting for. Are bucks starting to move in daylight? Should you be hunting aggressively yet? And just how important is “scrape week” when it comes to killing a mature buck? The best stretch of October is here. It’s time to pay attention.

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Randall Williams guest hosts MeatEater Trivia with Janis Putelis, Brody Henderson, Jordan Sillars, Cory Calkins, Omar Lopez, and Logan Dove.

Presented by Busch Light

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For our second Deer Stories episode for 2026, host Clay Newcomb opens with a glimpse into the foundations of American deer hunting, recounting an 1837 account of German traveler Friedrich Gerstäcker hunting deer with Choctaw hunters in the Arkansas wilderness. From there to Kansas, Iowa, Mississippi, and Arkansas as the stories jump to the modern deer woods, where Jim Malone survives a terrifying fall from a tree stand, Ron Poole recounts the hunt for a 233-inch Iowa giant, and Mississippi deer biologist William McKinley gets ambushed by an angry screech owl. Lane Weaver shares the remarkable twists and turns of hunting a buck named Edward, minnow farmer Margie Saul describes her most memorable hunts in the Arkansas delta, and Greg Sims tells an emotional story of a giant whitetail that connects him to a dear family member he lost.

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Chris Webb, 37, of South Carolina, has one heck of an alligator hunting story to tell. On September 28, he harvested a massive 844-pound gator nicknamed “Snaggletooth” out of Lake Moultrie with the help of guides Cole Poplin and William Ard of Renegade Bowfishing LLC. Webb’s father, Craig, was also along for the hunt, making the experience even more memorable.

The hunt was years in the making. Webb told MeatEater that he had been applying for a South Carolina alligator tag for six years before finally drawing one this year.

On the day of the hunt the group headed out a little before 9 p.m., and just 20 minutes into the hunt, they spotted an 11-foot alligator. Poplin asked Webb whether he wanted to pursue it or keep looking for something bigger.

“We got all night, we got the whole lake,” Webb replied.

Although Poplin had his doubts about passing up such a large gator, he honored Webb’s request, and the group continued searching.

Over the next three hours, the group spotted around 20 alligators and even spent roughly 45 minutes searching for a large, well-known gator nicknamed “Bubbles,” but had no luck finding him. By midnight, sightings had slowed down, and Webb decided it was time to head back and try their luck with the 11-footer they had passed up earlier in the night.

On their way back, the group decided to make one last stop just outside the Hatchery Wildlife Management Area (WMA) to see if any large alligators had wandered out of the protected area. That's when they spotted Snaggletooth, a well known gator in the area with a portion of his upper snout having been bitten off, creating this “snaggletooth” appearance.

Armed with air-powered harpoon guns and treble hooks rigged with buoys, the group went after the massive gator. The animal was so large that it managed to pull the buoys completely underwater. Webb described the encounter as “controlled chaos,” with the guides’ experience helping keep the situation from getting out of hand.

The thick, grassy bottom only made the fight more difficult. The group fired a round from a .44 Magnum, followed by two 9mm rounds from Poplin, before finally subduing the gator enough to secure a rope around its snout. One final shot from the .44 Magnum brought the lengthy battle to an end.

But bringing down the massive gator was only half the battle. Now they had to figure out how to get him into the boat.

Even with all four men working together, Snaggletooth was simply too heavy to lift aboard. With few other options, they tied the gator alongside the boat and climbed into the alligator-infested water to push both the boat and their catch toward the nearest tree, where they could use the winch they had brought along.

Once they reached the tree, the group knew they had a heavy gator on their hands, but they didn't realize just how heavy until their 1,000-pound winch began stalling and even started smoking under the strain. That's when they knew they had something special.

After finally getting Snaggletooth into the boat, the group was eager to see just how big their catch really was. “We measured him three times and it hit 14 feet every time,” Webb told MeatEater.

The following morning, the group met at Cordray's Processing and Taxidermy, where they were able to get an official weight and measurement of their catch. Snaggletooth tipped the scales at a whopping 844 pounds, making him the second-heaviest gator ever harvested in South Carolina. When asked how everyone reacted to seeing the number, Webb said, “We really didn't say anything.” The group simply stood there in awe of the massive animal.

After spending the night curled up in the boat and undergoing rigor mortis, Snaggletooth's official length came in at 13 feet, 8 inches, just four inches shy of their original measurements.

In addition to bringing home nearly 164 pounds of alligator meat, Webb is also having a life-size mount made. As for where he plans to display the nearly 14-foot gator? “I have no idea,” Webb told MeatEater.

Images via Chris Webb.

Lever action hunting rifles remain a staple at deer camps, not just because they’re especially nostalgic, but because they’re quick, smooth handling rifles. For those reasons alone, they’re incredibly relevant even in a time of featherlight, long range rifles. A few years ago, Marlin (under the ownership of Ruger) released their Dark Series line of lever action rifles. They started with the 1895 .45-70 Govt. and have since introduced others, including the classic 336 in .30-30 Win.

Diehard lever fans might view this modernization as blasphemous, while others will embrace the power (and utility) of the dark side. After recently getting my hands on one, I recognize the appeal. If nothing else, it’s a testament to the rifle’s platform.

Cartridge: .30-30 Win.

The tacticool components of the .30-30 Dark Series make an already handy rifle even more so, and I say that as someone who’s owned several 336s over the years. It might not look like a classic cowboy action, but these two seemingly different styles wed together nicely. Let’s start with the obvious.

Its mid-length Pic rail allows for several different mounting options for a full size or LPVO scope or a red dot, and it comes stock with an adjustable rear ghost ring and front tritium sight combination. I’m a huge fan of ghost ring sights, but I’d like to see one with a smaller diameter here. This one makes for quick target acquisition but probably at the cost of better groups. You likely won’t be stretching this gun beyond 150 yards, so a smaller rear sight would help with accuracy in a short-range cartridge with an even shorter barrel.

Marlin also swapped out the classic walnut furniture for a polymer stock and anodized aluminum forend, both of which feature flush cup sockets for QD sling swivels. There are also plenty of M-LOK attachment slots along the forend and a few on the stock, so you can customize it with other accessories. Marlin also includes a cheek riser for the stock, so you can adjust it depending on your choice of optic and mounting options.

The 336 Dark Series also comes with a sharp graphite black Cerakote finish, while the bolt and lever feature a nitride finish to preserve the moving parts that see the most action. The loading gate also functions smoothly, and I never got pinched loading or unloading the rifle.

Unlike typical gun reviews that place a huge emphasis on a rifle’s ability to group shots at 100 yards, that wouldn't exactly be true to the 336 Dark Series’ purpose. It’s still a metric to consider, just not the determining factor for this particular rifle. Instead, I placed most of the emphasis on its handling, especially for close-quarter shooting situations (within 100 yards). I even conducted a sight/optic test to see how quickly and accurately it functioned with open sights, a LPVO scope, and a red dot. You can read that in-depth breakdown here.

As someone who owns several and regularly hunts with lever actions, I was eager to see how the 336 Dark Series handled. While conducting the sight/optic test, I shot the rifle from a standing position, starting with the gun at a low hold, then quickly mounting it, and firing three shots as fast as possible. Even without the included cheek riser, the 336 dark series provided a natural cheek weld with all three optics, especially the iron sights. I did have both the red dot and LPVO scope mounted low. Anything higher than this would probably require the cheek riser or force you to lift your head off the stock’s comb.

With a 16-inch barrel, the 336 Dark Series is nimble. While I didn’t use a silencer during testing, the added length still wouldn’t detract from how quickly you can maneuver it around obstructions or brush. That kind of quickness it’s ideal for a rifle in thick timber.

The midsize finger lever also allows you to quickly cycle the gun with just a tad extra wiggle room. The .30-30 is already a mild recoiling cartridge, but the plush recoil pad and muzzle brake reduce that even more. I was able to quickly cycle the three-shot groups without any hiccups and get back on target. I even did a few mag dumps at 100 yards while shooting from a kneeling position and never had a cycling issue. I might have even done a few extra mag dumps because this rifle is just plain fun to shoot.

There is a bit of creep in the trigger, but that’s another lever gun trademark. It’s noticeable, but certainly not unbearable. The barrel does get hot after quickly emptying the mag a few times, and the aluminum forend soaks up all that heat. However, you shouldn’t worry about that type of volume shooting in a typical hunting scenario. If you do, you probably have much bigger problems.

I still subjected the 336 Dark Series to the usual rifle review testing. I shot three different loads in five three- and five-shot groups at 100 yards. I then recorded the best group and the average group size for all three- and five-shot groups. For optics, I chose a Sig Sauer TANGO-MSR 1-6x24, which fits the bill for the 336 Dark Series’ purpose.

As you can see from the table below, the 336 performed best with Hornady’s 140 gr Monoflex. It averaged a 0.92-inch group (three-shot) and 1.87-inch group (five-shot) at 100 yards. The best single groups were a 0.89-inch and 1.28-inch group for the three- and five-shot groups, respectively. Those numbers are on par with what you should expect from a lever action. The discrepancy between the three- and five-shot groups is also worth noting. The average more than doubled, and the gun consistently produced flyers after three shots in every group and load.

For the Winchester 150 gr Power Point and Federal Premium Hammer Down 150 gr, those average groups came to 1.3 (three-shot) and 2.34 (five-shot) and 1.06 (three-shot) and 2.43 (five-shot) inches, respectively. Lever actions aren’t known for their accuracy, and this much was to be expected with round nose bullets. But, if you’re talking about hitting the boiler room on a deer, it’s accurate enough.

A few years ago, Jordan Sillars reviewed the Ruger-Made Marlin 336, and highlighted the level of craftsmanship in the revived lever action. I’m sure there are a few contrarians, but there’s a broad consensus that Ruger redeemed the 336 after the “Remlin” years. You’ll still find a cross-bolt safety on the receiver. More than once I squeezed the trigger only to hear a “ting,” so don’t forget to disengage it when you have a buck in your crosshairs.

No, this isn’t your grandfather’s lever action, and it’s definitely not the price tag your grandfather would have paid either. At $1500, this rifle isn’t cheap, especially with underwhelming (five-shot) groups. Of course, that might not matter to lever gun enthusiasts or collectors who favor a well-crafted and handling rifle.

America’s first famous gunfighter also happens to have been a titanic fraud. Join best-selling author Bryan Burrough as he dives separates the into facts from the fictions enveloping the career of Wild Bill Hickok.

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It's almost the rut, but not quite. The pre-rut requires a different mindset and different strategies, but it can be as productive as the actual rut. You just might need to get into the cover and work the bucks where they feel safe.

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It always seems like you run into grouse when you’re not looking for them. Whether they’re ruffed, dusky, or sharp-tailed, these tasty little birds have a bad habit of showing up in unexpected places at unexpected times. From having ruffed grouse explode beneath your feet during an early morning walk to the tree stand to having your dog flush covey after covey of sharp-tails while you’re hunting for pheasants, sometimes it can feel like grouse are absolutely everywhere—that is, until you start looking for them.

Just like pencils, flashlights, Scotch tape, and hair ties, grouse are one of those things that always seem to be around until you need them. Many are the grouse hunters who've gone back to a spot where they saw a ton of birds when they weren’t hunting, only to find it devoid of grouse with a shotgun in hand.

This isn’t because grouse have some sort of spidey-sense to let them know they’re the target, but usually because most hunters only look for grouse in places where they’ve run into them before. Accordingly, if you’re looking to hunt a limit of grouse instead of just randomly poking through the woods and hoping to run into them, you have to hunt in the right places at the right times.

Gravel roads are a unanimous focal point for all grouse species. Like all birds, grouse can’t chew their food and need to swallow pebbles, gravel, and sand, filling their gizzard to help them grind up and eventually digest their food. This makes gravel roads running through grouse country fantastic and relatively easy places to find birds so long as you know where and how to hunt them.

First and foremost, you usually won’t have a lot of luck bagging grouse by simply walking down a gravel road with a shotgun. In fact, in many states it’s actually illegal to shoot from or even too close to roads of any kind. Accordingly, your best bet for success is to find a good-looking road that runs through grouse habitat and hunt parallel to it.

Walk off the road and move into the fringe cover, where thicker brush and clear cuts around the road meet up with denser forest. Pick your way along, paying extra attention to smaller patches of cover between five and 20 yards off the road that will provide the grouse with both easy hiding spots and access to the road itself.

It’s best to hunt gravel road grouse in the first hour after sunrise and the couple of hours before and even after sunset. At these times, grouse that have been roosting and feeding all day will become more active and are more likely to be moving along the road.

Unlike ducks and geese, which generally get more active during stormy weather, grouse hunker down in the rain, snow, or even extremely high winds. They’ll lock themselves into the thickest cover they can find and not move an inch until the storm passes, making hunting for them pretty pointless during any sort of inclement weather. However, once the storm has passed, grouse hunting can be on fire.

As soon as rain, snow, or crazy winds end, grouse that have been holed will strut their way out to the nearest food sources and begin to chow down. You can capitalize on this behavior by heading into your favorite grouse spot and intercepting the birds as they move out of cover.

In timber, concentrate your post-storm grouse efforts by looking for thick clumps of trees, especially pines, junipers, and spruces that are surrounded by berry bushes and mast crops like acorns. During storms, grouse will use the dense branches and needles of these conifers as umbrellas to hide from the weather and then will immediately move into these spots to feed once the weather changes.

If you’re hunting grouse in more open areas during a storm, look for clumps of brambles, brush, and even small conifer trees along the edges of clearings and agricultural fields. As soon as the weather stops being horrible, grouse will move out of these areas and push into more open spots to feed on grains, berries, and even insects that have fallen to the ground during the storm.

During mid- to late-season outings, you may stop finding grouse in the typical spots. A lot of hunters believe it’s because the birds have been shot out of the area, but the truth is it’s usually because they aren’t looking high enough. When the first couple of frosts begin to hit the ground, forest-dwelling birds will move out of their early-season haunts and push into higher elevations. Once there, the birds will feed heavily on fallen berries, seeds, and other food sources before they’re covered in snow.

To get after these high-mountain birds, you have to go after them where they now live. Start by hunting in areas that are between 1,000 to 2,000 feet higher than you’ve previously found grouse but are still in the same general area. While you can go in blind and hope for the best, I usually e-scout these areas a bit and make sure it’s got the type of terrain I’m after to make the extra elevation gain worth the effort.

Look for areas at higher elevations with a lot of transition edges where new growth forest meets up with older, larger trees. You should also note any open meadow or old burn, especially on south-facing slopes, which get more sunlight and are likely to have more plant life. You can also find high-elevation grouse in places where clumps of spruce, hemlock, and other fir trees meet up with hardwoods like aspens, oaks, and beech trees.

One of the hardest things about grouse hunting is that they can just suddenly come out of nowhere. This is especially true when you’re hunting without a dog to point them out so that you have no time to prepare for the explosion of wings from the random tree or brush. While a lot of hunters will simply curse their luck and maybe slow down a bit more and hunt with more alertness, very few realize that you can still have a chance at these missed encounters by doubling back.

Once you jump a few grouse out of a certain spot, it doesn’t mean the birds are gone for good. In fact, most of the time, those birds were there for a reason, and if you give it a bit of time, they’re very likely to come back. Accordingly, after flushing grouse in a forest or field, take note of where the birds were and where they headed to. Then continue to hunt in a different area for an hour or two before turning around and heading back to the spot where you jumped earlier in the day. You’ll be surprised how often you’ll get a second opportunity.

Hunting grouse along creeks and through creek bottoms has always been one of the most consistent ways to find birds. Not only do grouse utilize creeks for the easy access to water, but the riparian corridors along the edges of creeks provide the perfect combination of food and cover to keep grouse fat and happy. However, not all creeks are created equal, and you have to find the right ones in the right places.

The best creeks to find arboreal grouse like ruffed, dusky, and spruce are small, slow-flowing, shallow streams in the center of the woodlands, especially those that drain out of high-elevation areas. More open land grouse like sharp-tailed and even sage grouse tend to favor small, damp seeps and tiny, faster streams that flow through fields and brushy flats, creating an abundance of cover and plant life. Grouse will utilize the thicker areas along these creeks, usually roosting and feeding in the brush between 10 yards and 50 yards away from the water.

When you’re hunting grouse along creeks and creek bottoms, covering ground is key. Generally, the birds will all be roosting and gathering in one or two areas along long expanses of water, so you have to be on the move and paying attention. I’ve always compared it to still hunting for whitetail or other big game in thick timber.

As you move slowly along the edge of the creek, you don’t look for the grouse themselves, but for grouse-like shapes in the surrounding foliage and brush. Take three or four steps and pick apart any likely looking cover with your eyes, trying to spot the shape of a bird, the fluttering of a wing, or the glow of sunlight on feathers, before the birds spot you.

It up your odds of success if you only push small chunks of the creek at a time, concentrating your efforts in areas with a lot of obvious food sources. Look for berry bushes, rosehips, and delicate green vegetation that’s immediately adjacent to thickets of high stem density such as willows or young alder and dogwood, and you’re sure to start finding some birds.

There’s something endlessly endearing about being surprised by grouse in the woods. That explosive fluttering of wings that makes your heart jump is almost reassuring in a weird sort of way. It’s a sound of the wild that lets you know you’re once again in one of those beautiful, untouched places that these amazing birds survive and thrive.

Whether you’re walking through the quiet silence of the timber or the open air and swishing grass of a glowing field, when you’re surprised by the pounding of wings blasting off into the air, it’s always better to keep your eyes on the sky and a shotgun at your shoulder.

We’re excited to announce the newest installment of MeatEater’s American History. In this audiobook original, listeners will plunge into the frozen vastness of the Last Frontier, where a diehard breed of hunters and trappers carved out a living from the Alaskan wilderness in the early decades of the twentieth century.

Steven Rinella tells the story of these remarkable frontiersmen. Lured north by the promise of the Klondike Gold Rush, this generation of hunters and trappers stayed put long after their dreams of striking it rich had faded away. Instead, they vanished into the wilderness and took up the rawboned and dangerous occupation of hunting and trapping for a living—shooting caribou to feed themselves, fishing salmon to feed their dogs, and trapping just enough wolf and lynx pelts to sustain their wilderness lifestyle.

Known to some as "sourdoughs," they traveled by dogsled, snowshoes, and homemade river boats, running their traplines in temperatures that routinely dropped to sixty below zero through a landscape where many streams and mountains remain unnamed today. Unlike the generations of rapacious market hunters who came before them, these solitary woodsmen weren't responsible for pushing wildlife resources toward ecological collapse; instead, they dreamed of creating a sustainable existence where they could live for decades in harmony with the wilderness.

Their feats of grit, self-reliance, and bushcraft defined a golden era along the distant edges of the American map—an era that, in many respects, lives on today in America's last pure wilderness.

Chapter 5: Feast and Famine, explores the fleeting bouts of abundance provided by the Alaskan wilderness and how people learned to live in accord with the chaotic natural rhythms of the land. We’re offering the entire chapter as a free excerpt, so take a listen below.

Want to hear more? Get your copy of MeatEater's American History: The Alaskans (1896-1941) now, wherever audiobooks are available.