Ep.1 of my new series FANTASTIC PLACES is now live on my channel. | 72 yards from the Dall sheep I’d dreamed of my whole life. Tok, Alaska. My first filmed hunt… and the first of many places that shaped me.
#FantasticPlaces #TOK #DallSheep #Hunting
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Not For Sale.
There are few things more uniquely American than our public lands.
Millions of acres of wild, untamed country… open to every one of us. Forests, deserts, rivers, peaks, and prairies that don’t belong to the rich, or the powerful, or a foreign interest. They belong to the people. They belong to you. They belong to me. They belong to our children.
But right now, there are individuals in government… elected officials we trusted… working behind closed doors to sell them off. To auction your birthright and profit from something that was never theirs to sell in the first place.
Let’s call this what it is: theft.
I’ve been lucky to have flown in many bush planes over endless roadless country in Alaska. I’ve crawled through brown bear dens, and glassed moose from the tallest ridge-lines. Every one of those moments was made possible because we, as Americans, decided generations ago that some places are worth protecting… for all of us.
I’ve been incredibly fortunate to build a life in those wild places. A life of meaning, of challenge, of beauty. To think that future generations might be robbed of that… it’s not just wrong. It’s insane.
Selling public lands doesn’t just threaten hunting and fishing. It threatens the very idea that wild places should exist for something other than profit. That not every inch of land must be tamed, fenced, or paved.
So to every lawmaker, lobbyist, or businessman pushing this… understand something:
We see you.
And we will fight to protect what’s ours. Not just for today, but for the generations that will come after us. Because once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.
Public lands are not for sale, Mike Lee.
Not now. Not ever.
Please call your senators today and voice your concerns: 202-224-3121
— Donnie Vincent
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I spent the last decade in fantastic places.Some memories stayed buried.Others made it to film.
A new series begins.Trailer arrives next Friday (6/27).#FantasticPlaces
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It’s not about killing. It’s about knowing where your food comes from and earning every bit of it the hard way. It’s about pushing into wild, unforgiving places and coming back with something real. You don’t have to hunt to understand this. But you should think about it. Curious... why do you hunt... or why do you not hunt? watch video on watch page
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How the old boys used to do it. All new hunt video is live… go watch!
https://youtu.be/L04VPefG_bc?feature=...
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Truth is, I never had much interest in hunting mountain lions. I had never been around hounds, and treeing an animal just didn’t feel like something for me.
The great Jack O’Connor often wrote about the balance between lions and deer. Lions kill one to three deer a week, some say more, and in doing so, the herd stays healthy. Remove the lion, and you risk overpopulation and starvation. But Jack also believed lions should be hunted by conservation-minded men. That belief lives at the heart of a system that works when people care enough to manage it.
I hunted this lion with my good friend Ben Stourac, who I’ve shared many hunts with for sheep, bears, and caribou. He called and asked if I’d join him. Thought it might be time I challenged my own perspective.
This cat had been preying on a small group of California bighorn sheep above the Fraser River in southern British Columbia. Local biologists wanted him removed. He was simply too effective.
So we hunted. Several cold, snowy days in steep country with my bow in hand, following the trail of the “blood-paw tom.” He had torn a pad, which helped us stay on him. The hunt was long, difficult, and dangerous. Exactly how it should be.
Had I carried a rifle, we might have ended it without the hounds. Especially after coming face-to-face with him on a fresh fawn kill. But that’s rarely how these stories unfold.
In the end, it was the dogs that brought us to him. Watching that ancient tension between predator and prey play out in real time was unforgettable.
We hunted this lion with intention, and for the right reasons. To help a mountain valley. To protect a fragile herd of sheep. And because we are human beings who are meant to hunt.
For those curious, the meat was exceptional. To this day, some of the finest table-fare I’ve experienced. Just shy of mountain sheep or a Yukon moose.
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A life spent hunting is a life spent in pursuit of answers to a very personal question: “Why?”
For me, those answers can only be found in the wilderness where I am most alive. There is something raw about the whole experience—rough, often dangerous, yet undeniably real. The vastness of the land, so immense it humbles you, forces you to confront the quiet truth of your place in it all.
The simple acts of survival—gathering firewood, hauling water, picking berries, hunting small game for camp meat—become the rhythm of your days. The wind, the rain, those seemingly “perfect” moments that never quite unfold as you’d expect; they all become part of your story as a hunter.
It’s a quiet process. It’s about observing, listening, and letting time and space unfold without distraction. It’s about understanding the behavior of the animals, and in turn, understanding yourself.
Go once. Do it for real. Ask the hard questions and follow through. There’s no doubt—if you let it, hunting will shape you, just as it has shaped me.
#whoweare #hunters #hunting
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Not every solution requires fancy gear or high-tech equipment. When camping far from the comforts of society, improvisation often becomes the norm. Over the years, I’ve crafted spoons from alder branches (pro tip: don’t forget your spoon unless you enjoy a horrible aftertaste), stitched up a tipi using scraps from an old raincoat, and even built a paddle from a “Y” stick and duct tape—a hasty fix after flipping our raft and losing some gear (and nearly a life) on the nerve-wracking first day of a float.
On one hunting trip far above the Arctic Circle, while Michael Easter was gathering material for his book “𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘴”, I found myself needing camp shoes. The solution? A makeshift pair fashioned from a scrap of canvas discovered in a driftwood pile left behind by the spring runoff. We were on our third campsite, following caribou that had oddly turned back north during their late-September migration. Somewhere along the way, my original camp shoes ended up in the belly pod of Bryan Albert’s Super Cub.
Camping has a way of testing you, whether it’s in your own backyard (remember, no running back to the house—everyone knows the rules) or in the middle of nowhere with real stakes and a tinge of panic. The beauty of it all? Less is often more. Strip away the excess, step into the discomfort, and embrace the cold, the wet, and the misery. It might just be the best thing you ever do.
#hunting #alaska #camping
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Donnie Vincent is not merely a hunter—he’s an explorer, biologist, conservationist, and filmmaker who immerses himself in the wild to tell stories that resonate with authenticity and depth. With a background in wildlife biology, he’s traveled to some of the world’s most remote and untamed places—from the Arctic tundra to the jungles of Bangladesh—studying wildlife and pursuing ethical hunts that honor nature’s balance.
His acclaimed films, including The River’s Divide and The Other Side, explore the human connection to wild places and the respect owed to the animals we pursue. Through his production company, SICMANTA, Donnie creates cinematic stories that challenge perception and inspire reverence for the natural world.
He believes to truly understand nature, we must engage with it—directly, honestly, and with humility. As Donnie puts it, “It’s time we stop apologizing for how we get our protein. This is who we are.”
Joined 23 April 2013