10/22/2026
𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠?
The controversy surrounding hunting with dogs in South Carolina has been growing for years, but especially this year, I’ve watched it drive a wedge between hunters, landowners, and everyone caught somewhere in between.
And somewhere along the way, I think we’ve lost sight of what hunting actually means to so many of us.
𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐬. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬.
For some people, hunting is a sport. For others, it’s a tradition. For some, it’s how they feed their families. And for people like me, it’s all of those things, but it’s also something much deeper.
If you know me, you know how much the outdoors have always been a part of my life.
My daddy raised me in the woods and marsh. He taught me how to hunt, fish, respect the land, and provide for myself. I’ve always hunted with dogs through different types of bird hunting, but I didn’t grow up running deer dogs. In fact, I didn’t even know what a fox pen was until I met my now husband.
Since then, I’ve experienced both sides of deer hunting. I’ve stood on a dog box listening to the dogs run, and I’ve sat quietly in a deer stand waiting for something to step out.
I’m still a still-hunter kind of girl, but experiencing both has taught me something I wish more people understood. (And - I was still hunting when I put this deer belly up on the corn pile)
𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫.
The problem isn’t necessarily the method of hunting. It’s the individuals who give either method a bad name.
There are responsible hunters and irresponsible hunters on both sides. I believe in respecting landowners, property lines, wildlife, and the law. But I also believe in protecting the traditions that generations of South Carolina families have passed down.
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.
This year, hunting has taken on an entirely different meaning for me.
After finally getting answers to health issues I’ve battled for years, I’ve learned that meat from the grocery store can trigger significant flare-ups for me, while properly handled wild game and freshly caught fish have become some of the most important foods in my life.
At 30 years old, I hunt for meat. Not for a trophy.
I used to sit in a stand, watch a smaller buck walk out, and tell myself I’d let him walk. Now, when I see a four-point, I think about being a little girl and watching Daddy shoot what walked out because it meant putting food on our table.
And these days, when I harvest a deer, regardless of its size, one of the first things I want to do is call my daddy.
Because he understands what it means to me.
𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.
And if I’m involved in a harvest, you can believe I’m going to make sure nothing goes to waste.
I believe that if you’re going to take an animal’s life, you owe it the respect of making the most of what it provides. It’s not just about the meat in the freezer or the antlers on the wall. It’s about appreciating what God has provided and understanding the responsibility that comes with harvesting it.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲.
And that brings me to the part of hunting that means more to me than I could ever put into words.
Andy.
My daddy taught me to love the outdoors, but my connection to Andy has given that love an entirely different meaning.
There’s something about sitting in a deer stand before daylight, hearing the woods wake up, watching ducks work over the marsh, or simply being surrounded by God’s creation that makes me feel closer to Andy than almost anywhere else.
It’s hard to explain how you can miss someone so much and yet feel so connected to them in certain places.
But that’s what hunting does for me.
Out there, away from the noise of the world, I can think about him. I can remember him. I can appreciate the things he loved and the memories that will always be a part of me.
And sometimes, in the quietest moments, it almost feels like he’s right there beside me.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲.
And that’s why Andy & Me has never been just a business to me.
It’s about keeping his memory alive. It’s about carrying a piece of him with me into the places that bring me the most peace. It’s about honoring the things he loved and finding comfort in knowing that those things can continue to bring happiness to others.
Every harvest I make the most of, every morning I spend in the woods, and every sunrise I watch over the marsh reminds me of why those traditions are worth preserving.
𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐝𝐨. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡, 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.
And that’s what I wish more people would consider when they argue about the future of hunting.
Think about what hunting, fishing, and the outdoors give our younger generations.
For so many young boys, hunting, fishing, working dogs, and spending time outdoors give them something to look forward to. Something to work hard for. Something to take pride in. Something that, in many cases, keeps them out of trouble and away from the wrong crowd.
They’re learning patience, responsibility, discipline, respect for the law, respect for other people’s property, and the importance of doing things the right way.
And they’re learning something I believe our world could use a whole lot more of.
𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩.
The kind that comes from standing around a tailgate after a hunt, listening to stories from men who’ve been doing it longer than you’ve been alive. The kind that brings fathers, sons, grandfathers, neighbors, and friends together.
And let’s not forget about the little girls.
The little girls who grow up beside their daddies and granddaddies, learning to hunt, fish, and provide for themselves.
They’re learning independence, confidence, and self-reliance. They’re learning that they can take care of themselves and, one day, their own families.
𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬.
And now, at 30 years old, I understand just how important those lessons really were.
When we talk about protecting hunting traditions, we’re talking about so much more than how somebody spends a Saturday morning.
We’re talking about families, memories, responsibility, independence, fellowship, and giving the next generation something meaningful to hold on to.
So put your pride down beside your guns for a minute and think about the bigger picture.
Most of you have had your days. You’ve had your mornings in the deer stand, your afternoons listening to dogs run, your fishing trips, your duck hunts, and the memories you’ve made in the woods, river and marsh.
𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐭𝐨𝐨.
Let them experience the traditions, the fellowship, the lessons, and the connection with God’s creation that so many of us were fortunate enough to grow up knowing.
Because at the end of the day, this earth isn’t ours.
We can buy land, put up fences, draw property lines, and put our names on deeds, but none of us are taking a single acre with us when we leave this world.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝’𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐟; 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧. — 𝐏𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝟐𝟒:𝟏 (𝐊𝐉𝐕)
I believe in respecting landowners and their rights. But I also believe we’ve allowed pride, ownership, and personal disagreements to make us forget something much bigger.
God gave us this earth to care for, not to spend our lives fighting one another over it.
When I’m sitting in a deer stand before daylight or watching the sun rise over the marsh, I’m away from so much of the ugliness this world has become.
Away from the noise, the greed, the hatred, and the constant need for somebody to be right while somebody else has to be wrong.
I’m surrounded by something man didn’t create and money can’t replace.
And that’s where I feel closest to God.
That’s where I remember the lessons my daddy taught me.
And that’s where I feel closest to Andy.
I think about how blessed I am to have been raised in the outdoors, how thankful I am for the memories I’ve made, and how grateful I am that God gave us somewhere so beautiful to find peace in a world that can be so ugly.
Because one day, those little boys and girls will grow up. Their daddies and granddaddies won’t always be here. The people they shared those mornings with won’t always be standing beside them.
And the memories they made in those woods and marshes may become some of the most precious things they have left.
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞.
This isn’t about whether you still hunt, run dogs, hunt waterfowl or upland birds, gators, bears… the list can go on all day long… but you get the point.
It’s about respecting one another, protecting our wildlife, honoring our traditions, and remembering that the outdoors mean something different to every person who loves them.
For some, it’s a hobby.
For others, it’s how they provide.
For some, it’s where they learned life’s most important lessons.
For some people, an invitation to hunt with a group or even just a couple of others could mean more than you’ll ever know. That person might be battling depression, loneliness, grief, or even thoughts of su***de, and nobody around them has the slightest idea. What seems like just another day of hunting to you could be the one day they feel included, wanted, and reminded that they still have a place in this world. It might not be the deer they harvest or the birds they shoot that they remember. It might be the laughter, the fellowship, or simply having someone care enough to invite them. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠.
And for others, it’s where they still feel connected to someone they’ve lost.
𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐝. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲. It is my reason for still walking this earth because the truth is, the outdoors saved my life.
When you purchase something from Andy & Me, you’re doing so much more than supporting a small business. You’re helping me carry on a legacy that means more to me than words could ever explain.
𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 wear or use gear 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲 & 𝐌𝐞, 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬, 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.
He no longer gets to make new memories or experience the adventures this life has to offer, but through Andy & Me, his name and his memory get to be part of yours.
And there’s something incredibly comforting about knowing that even though his time here was cut short, his story doesn’t have to end there.
𝐇𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞’𝐬.
And to me, that will always mean more than any sale ever could.
It’s not just about what I create or sell. It’s about the love, memories, and traditions behind it. It’s about keeping Andy’s memory alive in a world that keeps moving, even when part of your heart wishes time could stand still.
𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬, water, & 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞.
And if you’ve spent your whole life hunting but have never stopped long enough to appreciate that, maybe it’s time to ask yourself what you’ve really been hunting for.
Much love,
Andy & Me
𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 & 𝐌𝐄
