In 1975, David Petzal, shooting editor for Field & Stream, opined that hunters needed to clean up their act.

In the latest issue of F&S, Petzal claims that we have.

“The last several generations of hunters that I’ve seen are miles ahead of what was around four decades ago,” Petzal wrote. “They are more knowledgeable and better citizens in the woods, and they appreciate the sport and the outdoors more. I wish they would get out of tree stands once in awhile and stop shooting exclusively from bench rests, but generally I’m very encouraged.”

Along that line, the trend in national hunting magazines over the past decade has been repetitive articles about shooting game over really long distances. The big magazines usually have at least one feature a month on shooting techniques to help shooters kill big game at ranges exceeding 500 yards.

This has created a vigorous debate between those who believe long-range shooting is unsporting. That’s sniping, not hunting, they say. Proponents argue that it allows hunters to hone their shooting skills and enjoy the potential of new, high-performance rifles and cartridges.

This is not new. I am reading a book of articles by the late Jack O’Connor, the longtime shooting editor for Outdoor Life and one of the greatest hunting writers.

A few years ago, another writer speculated that O’Connor was able to kill so many elk with the “lowly” .270 Winchester because he only took short shots from a steady rest. Not according to the man himself. O’Connor routinely and confidently shot and killed elk, as well as bighorn sheep and mountain goats, at ranges exceeding 600 yards.

In “Doc Brings Home the Bacon,” from the August 1947 issue of Outdoor Life, O’Connor cursed himself for leaving his beloved .270 in the tent when he finally found the bears he was hunting. Two bruins were about 500 yards away, requiring an uphill shot at a 45-degree angle.

“If only I had the .270, I think I could have killed both bears from that position,” O’Connor wrote.

Instead, he had a .30-06 zeroed at 200 yards. At 300 yards, the bullet would fall 12 inches, O’Connor wrote.It would fall 20 inches at 350 yards, 3 feet at 400 yards and about 4 1/2 feet at 450 yards. All three of his shots missed, despite holding as much as 18 inches over one bear’s back.

The .270 was an ultra-modern cartridge in 1947. O’Connor used it to make one-shot kills on big brown bears at impressive ranges. Nowadays, contemporary writers claim they wouldn’t dream of hunting brown bears with anything smaller than a .338 Winchester Magnum.

Taking long shots is not irresponsible if you practice them and understand how your bullet and rifle combination will perform at known distances. A rangefinder removes the guesswork that was endemic to hunting in O’Connor’s day.

One reason for the emphasis on long-range gunning, and the recent emphasis on tactical rifles, is that many young hunters are military combat veterans. Veterans from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are experienced and comfortable with AR style rifles. The magazines are simply satisfying the interests of a new generation of hunters.

Tradition is still alive and well. The latest edition of F&S has an article about buying and hunting with real old-time rifles, like the Model 8 Remington. That’s an ancient semiautomatic that was famously chambered in .35 Rem., a brush-busting cartridge that’s synonymous with the Marlin 336 lever-action rifle. Its reputation as a brush buster, though, came through the Model 8, which could launch a barrage of 220-grain bullets in a heartbeat.

It reminds me of an old friend, the late George Lepska of Stratford, N.Y., the toughest man I ever knew.On his wall above his sofa was the head of a gigantic Adirondack whitetail whose antlers would have scored 150-160, had Lepska been interested in such things.

Lepska fashioned a one gun rack from the buck’s front legs, which were upturned at the ankles and were attached to a plaque. Cradled within the legs was the Remington Model 8 with which Lepska killed the buck. It was in .35 Rem., of course. It was meticulously maintained, and the action was as slick as butter. The walnut stock was deep auburn from age, but rubbed almost black on the forearm and pistol grip. It also emitted a faint scent of Hoppe’s No. 9 gun solvent.

That was in 1988, and it was still Lepska’s primary hunting rifle. He had newer stuff, but in those dog-hair thick woods of northeastern New York, that old Model 8 was still the deal.

Sports, Pages 29 on 12/08/2013