I’d hunted hard for eight days in the Yukon high country in a single-minded quest for a trophy Dall sheep, climbing windy, rock-strewn peaks, crossing steep shale slides, and glassing from dizzying vistas. Now I’d conquered the toughest of the many tough mountains I’d climbed that week, edging across treacherous, crumbling cliffs and threading my way up a narrow, rocky spine in order to make a perfect shot on a magnificent ram. I stood with my guide, our heavy packs loaded with meat, about to take the first step of a perilous descent that would test every fiber of my courage and resolve. It would be another twelve hours before we reached our destination just as dawn broke, proving that on really hard-core hunts, the kill is only the halfway point.
While I love hunting anywhere—a ranch in Wyoming, a woodlot in Pennsylvania—it is the high places and the hunts that are the most difficult, both physically and mentally, that are the most rewarding to me. Seeing places that so few will ever see, while pushing my limits and going beyond them, have been the great rewards of hunting the planet’s wildest areas.
I could never have imagined the exotic heights to which the hunting trail would lead me on the memorable day in the big woods of northern Pennsylvania twenty-six years ago when, at the age of fourteen, I knelt beside my first deer, a whitetail doe. In the years since, hunting has put me in many amazing places: belly-down on the Arctic tundra with a shaggy muskox in my sights; in a copse of dusty thornbrush on a stalk for a kudu; clinging to a sheer cliff on a quest for a mountain goat; and face to face with a Cape buffalo I’d tracked for miles across a hot equatorial plain. I’ve been so hot and thirsty I thought I’d lose my mind; I’ve been wet, cold, and shivering so hard it hurt; and I’ve undertaken hunts so physical I still look back and wonder how I did it.
I crave such adventures because the experiences are more vivid, the friendships more concrete, the trophies more valuable (even if not necessarily larger), and the stories more fun to tell.
I have been fortunate to make hunting my occupation as well as my avocation, but there was never a time when I could imagine doing anything else. Hunting is ingrained into my being, and it has informed every major life decision. In my job as a hunting magazine editor I strive to continue a storytelling tradition as old as hunting itself. If, through the pages of the magazine, my own adventures help to inspire others—especially women—to pursue their dreams of adventure, they will be even more worthwhile.
As a hard-core hunter, I work constantly to build physical strength to call upon when the mountains get steep and the load gets heavy. But I’ve learned over the course of many tough hunts that the true reward is the way they force us to find the inner strength we already have—strength that is there for us any time, as long as we are willing to brave the climb.

I nearly passed out from fear as a 700 lb. African lion charged me, finally dropping only 30 yards away after my fifth shot with a .375. I knew I was going to die the day I shot my 10 ½ ft. Alaskan brown bear at 24 yards with my bow. I watched my life pass before my eyes as I scaled the exposed cliffs stalking my 40 inch dall ram. I have been extremely fortunate to harvest many large mule deer, elk, moose, antelope, dall sheep, bighorn sheep, black bear, brown bear, red stag, African plains game, and dangerous game.

My obsession with hunting began as a small child as I followed my dad and brother on every hunt while freezing to death. My love for hunting flourished when I married my hunting partner during the autumn bow hunt. We celebrated our honeymoon in a tiny two man tent high in the Alaska Chugach mountain range sheep hunting. We have subsequently celebrated all 14 anniversaries since, packed in on some type of hunt. I planned my life around every hunting season including school, work, children, and vacations. I refused to miss one hunt even at full term pregnancy. I hauled each baby on my back to the top of a mountain to shoot my deer and elk every year. As my children grew, I began school and would study many nights in a blind awaiting the perfect bow shot. I would leave school at 5:00 pm every Thursday night during hunting season, drive all night, saddle my horse, and ride several hours to my favorite hunting spot to arrive by sunrise. During each duck hunting season I would load up my kids, drive out to the river, shoot a few ducks, drive home, and have the ducks cooked by the time my husband arrived home from work.

I look forward every year to suffering from a sore butt in the saddle, rubbing elk manure on my pants to cover my scent, and crawling through sticker bushes for hours while stalking my trophy. I prefer to hunt alone with my bow and will stay anywhere, in any type of weather, after any kind of animal for days on end. I have even gone so far as to bare my white butt in order to mimic a bighorn sheep, so that I could sneak up to 28 yards for my successful bow shot.

I can’t decide if I feel more at home in my own family room or in a sleeping bag in the mountains with a frozen nose and the sound of bull elk bugling throughout the night. Yet through it all, I have vowed to always celebrate my femininity by refusing to remove my earrings while hunting, always wear pink somewhere underneath my camo, and wash my hair at least every two days in the wild, with or without ice in the river. I am proud to be the most hardcore WOMAN huntress around!

Hello, my name is Connie Renfro and, after some prodding from family and friends, I have decided to put my name in the hat for the Extreme Huntress competition.

I have been bowhunting for 22 years enjoying many adventures ranging from hunting rocky mountain goats and bighorn sheep (see photo) at elevations up to 13,000’ to hunting antelope in the high plains deserts. Over the years I have had the good fortune to hunt many different parts of the lower 48, Alaska and Canada. With the exception of my mountain lion hunt, all of my hunts have been do-it-yourself, unguided affairs consisting of just myself and my husband, Gary.

I hesitate to say that I am the “best” or the most “hard-core” bowhunter around but I will say without reservation that I am dedicated to hunting the hard way using traditional archery equipment. I recently carved a self-bow out of an Osage log, built a Flemish twist string and hand-crafted footed arrow shafts for an elk hunt and a successful whitetail hunt in Kansas.

I have been on many tough hunts including a 3+ week moose and caribou hunt above the Arctic Circle in Alaska, a cold and snowy 2 week black bear hunt in southeast Alaska, and innumerable high country backpack hunts for elk and mule deer. In 2005 I spent 30 days hunting elk in Colorado (see photo). I hunted some extremely rugged country for my mountain goat, capitalizing on an opportunity and taking a nice billy at 11,000’. That hunt found us packing out of the high country with overloaded, 95lb. backpacks to save on making the eight mile hike back in to retrieve camp.

On many occasions when Gary has been unable to get away for the opening of archery season, I have loaded up my backpack and headed into the high country to hunt elk and mule deer by myself. I have been lucky to be on many extraordinary hunts that have tested my endurance, strength, and determination. Even through the hardest hunts with nasty weather, extreme terrain, and many sore muscles I haven’t regretted a moment!

After many years of bowhunting I came across an unlikely milestone as I became the first (and at this time the only) women bowhunter to take all of the original Colorado “Big Eight” species (elk, mule deer, whitetail deer, bighorn sheep, mountain goat, black bear, mountain lion and antelope) and, at the time, the fifty-fourth bowhunter (male or female) to accomplish this feat.

As I mentioned before, I believe it is a very slippery slope to claim you are the “best” – but….. Will I say unequivocally that I am a hardcore, dedicated traditional archer, able to tackle the “extreme” hunts? – YOU BET! Do I love the challenge? – ABSOLUTELY! Would I love to hunt bighorn sheep, mountain goat and black bear in British Columbia? – OF COURSE!

I won’t lie . . . It’s not easy taking down an 18-pound gobbler when you’ve got a drain in your chest . . . although I’m pretty sure my friends believe it is easier for me to aim my 12-gauge with one less breast.

Three weeks after my radical mastectomy in March, 2006, I was on the hunt for a Tom in the woods of Williams, Arizona. Accompanying me was my son, Chase, and my best friend and hunting partner Shane. I was weak from cancer drugs, 48-years old, and struggling to get over the small hills and streams. Shane’s job was to hoist me up and down and each time he did I swore under my breath for being so weak.

Nearly everyone I loved tried to stop me from turkey hunting so soon after cancer surgery, but I couldn’t imagine any place else I would rather be. Since the age of 12 when my friend Phil first took me out to shoot quail, hunting has been my “church.” There is no question that I love my children, my grandchildren, and my job as a firefighter. But there is nothing like the feeling I get out in nature, experiencing the elements, tracking game under the endless sky, and how it makes me feel so ALIVE.

Hunting is entwined in the best and worst moments of my life. I broke my leg at the age of 14 but refused to stay home from a week-long deer hunting trip, even though I had a cast up to my knee. I was three months pregnant when I swung up on a horse for a six-day deer hunt through the rugged Matazal Wilderness in northern Arizona, fighting off morning sickness and jeers of my fellow hunters.

When they discovered my breast cancer while in the hospital for surgery for a broken back (the result of loading up a quad for a scouting trip), I immediately thought of my kids and my loved ones, and how they’d take the news. I wondered if they’d let me return to full duty as an Engineer for the Phoenix Fire Department, fighting fires in the field, and hoping that my doctor wouldn’t find out if I continued with tracking and hunting.

A round of chemotherapy, open heart surgery, and endless complications later, I’m still doing what I love. My colleagues at the Phoenix Fire have graciously donated their vacation time to cover my sick leave. My family’s patience has been stretched thin, but they understand my need to leave for a week at a time to find a monster bull elk . . . though I can no longer leave my cell phone home.

To date, I’ve brought home two deer, one elk, one javelina, and three turkeys. With each hunting trip, I have found a hidden reservoir of strength in myself and a renewed love and appreciation for the hunt – truly living each day to the fullest knowing how things can change in a second.

Born in the Deep South, hunting Paradise, New Zealand. Name, Rach Stewart, 29 years old.
When I was young, all I ever wanted to be a professional hunting guide like my dad … and chase wild game around the world.
Shot my first animal; a feral goat, at 7years old, and have been hooked ever since.
When not at school my time was spent gaining the necessary skills to become a guide. Hunting, Red Stag, Chamois and Tahr or hanging around the hunting camp learning to cape, skin, butcher and flesh.
1999 I started guiding hunters full time. The same year I did my first of many seasons of travelling to other hunting camps, working for other hunting outfitters around the world.
Today I hunt year round, guiding seven months a year, with the rest of the year spent hunting personally in New Zealand and other favourite destinations round the globe.
Lost my toe nails due to frost bite, hunting Whitetail in North America, crossed high altitude mountain passes using crampons, ice axe and ropes, chasing Dall sheep in the Chucgatch Mountains in Alaska, and lived in the Canadian bush for 3 months trapping- eating some of our nasty animals that we trapped when times got tuff.
Africa, chasing many “plains game species. Shot 420 yards at an Eland Bull while my PH was positive, I couldn’t hit it at that distance. The end of that story was a one shot kill with my .257… a great trophy and a few choice and unrepeatable words from my PH!
One of my favourite sayings,
“BETTER TO BE LUCKY THAN GOOD”.
During one Australian water buffalo hunt, I was charged at full speed by a huge bull we were tracking, what a rush. Thank god for the 375 H&H… and my brother for back up.
Stuck a wild boar in New Zealand with a team off dogs wow only once though that’s enough.
Hung off glacier faces to get into some of the best Tahr hunting country in New Zealand.
I love a backpack hunt; love the kind of adventure and live for those kind of places, animals that have never seen people before.
Next trip booked, Tanzania for Cape buffalo 2010, then Alaska for Mountain Goat and Moose. Can’t wait.
I guess the down side to being a woman guide is that I’ve had to put up with a lot of prejudice over the years, guys looking down at you for being a woman, wondering if you were capable of working in tough conditions for long hours, basically all the stereotypes one would expect to find in a mans world.
But I’ve given it all I’ve got, everyday, no matter the pain, and I’ve been given great respect from the men, I guide and hunt with along the way, It only takes them a short while to recognize my abilities, skills and knowledge. They see I’m passionate and love what I do.
I truly love my life in the outdoors.
HUNT TO LIVE, LIVE TO HUNT

I believe that a hunt is not judged a victory based solely on the success or size of the trophy, but more on what the experience has taught the hunter. An extreme circumstance builds extreme character, a sense of humor, and an accurate assessment of the true “cost” of various hunts:
British Columbia: three months of backpack camps, eleven varieties of freeze dried meals, four hot showers, and one roll of duct tape to keep raw feet from bleeding through that 3rd layer of my Gore-tex insulated boots.
Kyrgyzstan: four rolls of toilet paper in ten days, eight near-death experiences, and a handful of bullets fired at our group by the Chinese border patrol because the local guides decided to explore “new” territory.
Tanzania: seven days of restless sleep with one eye open after the PH and his lion-hunting client were offered 50 head of cattle by a Masai Moran for my hand in marriage.
Alaska: ten hours of dragging a raft full of gear down a half-dry river, only to watch another hunter shoot the very same dall sheep ram that my guide had picked out.
Knowing that I would do it all again at a moment’s notice: priceless. And those are only just a few of my experiences during two recent years of hunting trips. My motto for all adventures is to hope for the best, but expect and plan for the worst.
Ask me to guide you around a department store and I’ll hit panic mode in no time flat, but I can get you back to within 25 yards of a spike camp after a thirteen mile trek across a mountain range and through alders…with no GPS. You are more likely to meet me in an airport lounge en route to the next hunting camp than in my own hometown. I have written articles and stories for well-known hunting magazines, and am featured in several popular hunting videos. I am more comfortable on a mountain range full of hungry grizzlies than in a city full of people. Recently I have started bow hunting, just to add an extra element of challenge to the game.
Hunting is not just my passion, it is my lifestyle. People call me hard-core, but to me I am just living the dream. By the time I am old and crippled enough to “retire,” I will have earned the rest!

The ugly sky over Barnegat Bay was grey, with scattered wads of threatening black clouds. Forty-mile an hour wind slashed at my face, freezing unbidden tears that coated my eyelashes, making it hard to see the ducks skimming swiftly above the water’s surface. My rubber-booted feet, in eight inches of slush, were totally numb.
What in the world, I asked myself, is a nice girl like you doing out here? As I raised my over/under to swing on the drake leading a quintet of teal, I breathed my answer, Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be!
My passion for hunting began in 1934 when I was a skinny 11-year old tomboy shooting tin cans with a borrowed .22 rifle. I loved the smell of gun-powder and the noise. My dad was opposed to me having a gun but I bought one secretly and spent every spare moment with it, bouncing tin cans and hunting jackrabbits. I skinned, cleaned and broiled the rabbits over a fire, entranced with the fragrance of burning wood and roasted meat, and dreamed of hunting big game. I’ve never gotten over that compelling primitive pleasure and am grateful that I’ve been able to make the hunts I dreamed of long ago.
In sixty-plus years of hunting I’ve never met a woman hunter who hadn’t been introduced to it by a father, brother or husband. Not so I. I began hunting through sheer determination. I found the outdoors fascinating, guns intriguing, shooting fun, and hunting irresistible.
To support my habit, I began writing in 1967, sharing my extensive outdoor knowledge through a newspaper column, magazine articles, a weekly radio program and teaching outdoor skills at a college. I’ve enjoyed an enviable variety of hunts.
One highlight was being invited in 1971 to participate in ABC’s “American Sportsman”. That hunt for Stone’s sheep in British Columbia was a thrilling adventure, complete with a misfire – yes! – and a quick recovery resulting in a satisfying finale when I was told my shot was, “Probably the best we ever filmed.”
Back home, bobwhites, pheasant, cottontails, deer and waterfowl provided most of my hunting experience. But I’ve also shot Snow geese in Canada, prairie dogs on our prairies, ducks in the Yucatan, doves in Argentina and plains game in Africa.
Blackflies were the only wildlife I’d seen during four hard days of hunting spring bear in Quebec. When I was jolted awake from an involuntary nap, a huge bear was coming at me from thirty yards away, snarling and popping his teeth. I managed to drop him with a single shot.
Elk hunting with my friend Ida is a do-it-ourselves affair. We trailer horses into camp, build a corral, and hunt from “can till can’t” every day, alternating horse chores and kitchen duties. We field dress our game and pack out the meat in canvas panniers,
I turned eighty-six in July. My best present was drawing a mule deer tag. Colorado, here I come!

My name is Shelley Ailts and I am the most extreme hard core huntress. I don’t fit the description most people visualize when they think of a hard core woman. At 5’2”, 115 pounds, and an ovarian cancer survivor, I have to mentally and physically challenge myself more than most. To me, hard core means working harder than imaginable, and knowing I can do anything I set my mind to.

When I married 25 years ago, it wasn’t common to see women hunt, let alone find hunting clothes that fit, and still look and feel like a lady while wearing them.

Some may think I was very hard core for not having children because I didn’t want to miss out on a hunting season. I knew if I became a mom, hunting would no longer be a priority in my life and that was not a change I was willing to make.

My married life focuses on hunting. Every vacation is a hunting trip, our house is decorated with our trophies and purchases from wildlife banquets. We exercise with our hunting dogs, eat wild game, attend hunting expos, and serve as committee members to raise funds for habitat. I keep a journal and write down my memories from each hunt.
I have hunted deer, antelope, elk, caribou, black buck, chamois, pheasants, geese, dove, etc. I cannot imagine my life without all of this.

Then at age 35, I was diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer, stage 3, and this made me realize, we cannot wait until retirement to take our dream hunting vacations. While in the middle of chemotherapy, we continued to hunt our local hot spots and went to Alaska. At the end of treatments we hunted caribou in Northwest Territories. To celebrate remission, we hunted Argentina. At five years cancer-free we went to New Zealand, and my chamois is on the wall to remind me of this accomplishment.

There were times; I napped in the bed of a pickup so I had enough energy for the evening hunt. Other times I cried because I was so exhausted and knew I had to keep going if I wanted to get the animal in my sight. I was battling cancer, working, and hunting when I could. Self talk, positive attitude, faith, and the love of the outdoors kept me going.

Now at age 45, I am alive and appreciate all I see, do and hunt. Each trophy in my house is a reminder of my challenges and inner strength. I still struggle with fatigue, but I know how to prepare myself for a hunting trip, listen to my body when it needs to rest, and pace myself so I enjoy every moment. The doctors say I am a walking miracle, but I am just a hard core huntress enjoying a passion.

“Extreme Huntress” this title made me stop and say “what is this, what does it mean, and who is it?” These questions made me reflect on my life in the hunting industry. My first memories of hunting were as a young girl following my father through the mountains of Montana with my single shot 22 rifle knowing with my ability once I looked down those open sights and took aim - no animal was safe.

Being a woman in the sport of hunting was traditionally a man’s turf. This was a concern for my mother who is very much a lady. She didn’t mind that I hunted and she enjoyed my excitement. Mom was concerned that my tomboy attitude would affect my lady like behaviour. With mom’s insistence she taught that it was fine to have grace and tenderness in my life. She taught me to speak up for myself and be confident in whatever endeavors I choose and be respected for my knowledge and my ability and the sport of hunting should have no gender.

By the time I was eighteen I had harvested a number of big game animals. At that age I was always after the biggest and the best, keeping secret hunting spots to myself. In my twenties we turned the family ranch into a hunting lodge. I discovered as I guided our hunters that teaching, sharing the resources and helping others achieve their goals was as exciting as if I myself had harvested the animal.

I enjoyed guiding so much that in 1989 I took the Mt. State outfitters exam and became a licensed outfitter. Twenty years ago, when I raised my hand to vote at meetings it caught some of the men by surprise. That was a true milestone in my life; I felt I could make a change in the hunting world for women. Today I am the current President of the Montana Outfitters and Guides Association and sit on a number of government boards and local councils. As mom stated “The passion of the sport has no gender.”

Staying involved in preserving our hunting heritage is a goal for me and I accomplish this in a number of ways but one of my larges accomplishments was helping to develop “Big Hearts under the Big Sky” a program that offers dream trips to children with life threatening illnesses, wounded warriors and women with breast cancer.

After much thought my definition of an “Extreme Huntress” is not the places you have gone or the number of animals you harvest or how hard-core you may be. To me it is not something you just do in the fall it is a year round commitment. You must have respect and admiration for the outdoors and wildlife. Look to preserve the future of the sport and encourage others to become involved. I enjoy the peace and harmony with nature, being ethical, and excited by the thrill of the hunt, but always respect the animals I intend to take. I hope by example I can encourage more women to become involved in the sport of hunting and the outdoors.

I was introduced to the exhilaration of hunting when I met my husband 14 years ago. Since then, I have taken numerous big game animals with both firearms and a bow. Now, I co-own and manage a hunting store (Gila Outdoor) where I give people advice on what products to use and how to use them. I have even become a certified bow technician and the archery instructor.
Whether it is extreme weather conditions, challenging terrain or dangerous animals, I face it head on. In the high mountains of Colorado, I put my physical abilities to the test. Hunting Muleys above timberline at 13K’ elevation, where the air was thinner, proved to be an incredible challenge. Several stalks were straight up another 1000’ in elevation. Using my CVA Optima Elite muzzleloader and open sights, I needed to close the distance to about 100 yards with little to no cover. Due to the steep terrain, I had to shoot freehand, and as fate would have it, I harvested my first Mule Deer with a muzzleloader.
An archery antelope hunt in New Mexico brought me even more challenges. I shot my bow daily to prepare for this hunt. 100 degree weather, rattlesnakes and ants, kept the hunt interesting. Crossing paths with Diamondback and Mohave rattlesnakes made crawling in 2’ grass a little eerie. My buck was in my sights, and I was not giving up. I crawled closer, stopping each time he looked up, only to have big red ants crawling up my pant legs, but I had to stay still. Minutes seem like hours, fatigue and adrenalin are battling inside of me… I drew back and settled in on the small spot behind the shoulder and let my arrow loose. I returned sunburned and bitten up, but I had a stunning 76” buck for my trophy.
Being an extreme huntress is more than the harvest of an animal. To me, it’s more about the experience. I recently had the opportunity to hunt Water Buffalo for 10 days in the Northern Territory of Australia, with a bow. With 90 degree temperatures, crocodiles, 1500 lb animals, and six of the most poisonous snakes in the world, I was nervous. Challenges… Now we’re talking! One stalk got me within 33 yards from a big bull bedded down and staring back at me through the 4’ high grass. Although I did not get a shot, the numerous close encounters were incredible. Was it worth it? Absolutely!
I have had such rewarding experiences, that I find it difficult not to share this passion with others. I am taking three women out in January for their first archery javelina hunt. Two of them have never hunted at all, let alone with a bow. I can hardly wait! I am so thankful that my husband was willing to mentor me for the last 14 years, or none of this would have been possible. Now I have an unbelievable passion for hunting and archery, and the opportunity to share it with others.