From the Ozarks of Arkansas to the national stage, Clay Newcomb’s story is one of legacy, wild places, and a profound love for hunting culture. As Quail Forever’s keynote speaker for the 2025 National Pheasant Fest & Quail Classic, Newcomb brings not only a lifetime of hunting experience, but a deep reverence for the quail hunting traditions that shaped him and the stories that connect us to nature.
 

When Clay Newcomb speaks about quail, there’s a tangible reverence in his voice — a reverence developed through years of devotion to wild places and a family legacy that’s deeply rooted in hunting. As the host of MeatEater’s popular “Bear Grease” podcast and a seasoned storyteller, Clay is known for his ability to connect listeners to the natural world through rich, personal narratives. But the story behind Clay’s connection to hunting and storytelling goes back further than just a podcast — it begins with the influence of his grandfather, Lewin Newcomb.

Born in 1979 in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas, Clay Newcomb was surrounded by hunting culture from a young age. While his father was primarily a bowhunter focused on white-tailed deer, it was his grandfather, Lewin Newcomb, who passed down a love for quail hunting. “My grandfather was a quail hunter and had been since the 1950s when he got back from World War II,” Clay shares. “He was a real serious bird dog trainer, and my dad grew up hunting quail as well.”

Lewin, a preacher and high school biology teacher, was the family’s patriarch. To Clay, he was a larger-than-life figure who combined his spiritual wisdom with a fierce love for bird dogs and the outdoors. “You couldn’t interact with him without learning something about quail or bird dogs — and loving it because he did so much,” Clay recalls. “I was heavily influenced by him — his integrity, work ethic, and character.”

By the time Clay was old enough to hunt with his grandfather, quail populations were already beginning to dwindle. “The last 25 years of his life, my grandfather quail hunted five days a week with no intention of killing a single quail,” Clay remembers. Lewin would train his bird dogs with pen-raised quail, relishing the training process even if wild coveys were few and far between. “It was about the joy of working with bird dogs and being in the field,” Clay says.

Clay fondly remembers days spent following Lucy, a finished English setter his grandfather gifted him when he was in the sixth grade. Along with the Lucy, his grandfather also gave him a copy of Delmar Smith’s dog training book, ‘The Delmar Smith Method.” He read it cover to cover. Clay and Lucy would search for coveys on a nearby farm they had permission to hunt, learning the art and appreciating the beauty of quail hunting.

This early experience with bird dogs cemented Clay’s lifelong connection to hunting dogs and the outdoors. “When I was a kid, from about 10 to 14, I really developed a love for working dogs. That translated into me becoming a coon hunter later on,” he reflects. Though he eventually shifted from bird dogs to coonhounds to bowhunting whitetails and bears, a reverence for quail hunting never left him.

Another thing that stuck with him was his grandfather’s passion for the outdoors and his work ethic. In 2007, after graduating from college Clay started his own landscaping business to support his family, but always felt torn between his work responsibilities and his strong passion for hunting.

Then he had a dream that changed the course of his life.

“I had a dream that I killed a 24-point buck with my bow. You are either going to have to believe me or think that I’m full of crap,” he says laughing.

“The dream was quick and clear. It felt like real life,” he remembers. When Clay woke from the dream, he found a stained piece of paper on his nightstand and sketched a picture of his dream buck. “He had a kicker coming off the base of one of his antlers and he had one brow tine that was taller than the other and a bunch of trash on his horns,” Clay remembers. He then tucked the drawing away in a file cabinet and nearly forgot about it.

A little over a month later, he spotted a large buck behind his suburban home, but didn’t get a clear view of it.

Clay hung a deer stand in a hackberry tree behind his house and proceeded to hunt the buck every morning for over two weeks, but the buck never materialized.

Then Clay decided to get aggressive. On the sixteenth morning of hunting, he rattled two deer antlers together, trying to call the buck within range. About 15 minutes later, he saw the largest buck of his life walking through the timber 40 yards away. The buck vanished into the brush, and Clay blew a grunt call in its direction. A few minutes later he arrowed the buck at 12 yards and began assembling his family to search for it.

“When we found it, I walked up to the deer, and he had points everywhere,” he remembers. “When I finished counting them, I started laughing. He had 24 points you could hang a wedding ring on.”

This was a once in a lifetime deer for anywhere in the country, and especially for the Ozarks.

“I had often thought about making a living in the outdoor industry, but I had never seriously thought that I could. It wasn’t even on the table of options for me,” Clay says. “But this story was so unique — that I killed the deer in my backyard with a bow by rattling him in — that I decided I was going to write a tactical story about calling suburban deer. I did not include anything about the dream in the story, and submitted it to the ‘Arkansas Sportsman,’ a regional hunting magazine.”

They bought the story for $225. Clay was thrilled and his success inspired him to write a similar story for “North American Whitetail,” the premier whitetail magazine in the country at the time. Newcomb kept the momentum going and continued to pen stories for several outdoor publications.

“I started getting more and more assignments and making relationships with editors. This is all while landscaping to make a living for my family. That first article was a little crack, a little pathway, I had into the outdoor writing space,” he says.

With his initial writing success, Clay started his own regional Arkansas hunting magazine.

“We basically hand-delivered it all across the state. I wrote much of it and edited it. Looking back people loved it, but it was terrible,” he says laughing.

In 2013, Clay had the opportunity to acquire “Bear Hunting Magazine.” In doing so he began a full-time career in the outdoor industry. Under his leadership, the magazine became a hub for bear hunters across North America, offering both practical advice and a platform to celebrate the traditions of bear hunting.

But it was the launch of his “Bear Grease” podcast that truly brought Clay Newcomb’s storytelling to the forefront. Despite having “bear” in the title, “Bear Grease” is about much more than bear hunting. In fact, most episodes have nothing to do with bears at all.

“Bear Grease” is a blend of history, philosophy, and personal stories, all centered around the broader themes of rural culture and wilderness. The podcast takes listeners on a journey through topics that go beyond the hunt, exploring the connections between humans and nature, the role of tradition in modern life, and the ways in which rural cultures have shaped the American landscape.

“Bear Grease” takes a documentary-style approach and covers topics ranging from mythical black panthers to our irrational connection to dogs to historical figures like Daniel Boone.

At the heart of “Bear Grease” is Clay’s passion for preserving what he calls “cultural grease,” those bits of knowledge, skills, and traditions that keep rural and hunting cultures alive. He believes that much of what has been passed down through generations — the stories of old-time hunters, the wisdom of woodsmen, and lessons learned from the land — is disappearing in today’s fast-paced world. His podcast serves as both a tribute to and a preservation of that culture.

Clay’s nuanced story-telling and the deep respect for the subjects he covers have made “Bear Grease” a widespread success. Currently, it is one of the most listened to hunting podcasts on both Spotify and Apple Podcasts. His ability to blend historical insight with personal anecdotes creates a show that feels both intimate and expansive, tackling big ideas while staying grounded in the stories of real people.

And it all started with a dream.

Hearing Clay tell the story of his journey, you can’t help but agree with his interpretation of that fateful dream.

“To me it’s really clear. I feel like God was directing my life and I feel like that dream was from Him,” he reflects.

While Clay’s path has been far from linear, one theme, stemming from his early days of quail hunting with his grandfather, runs through all his endeavors — the connection between storytelling and conservation.

For Clay, the decline of quail populations was a wake-up call. The thought of wild places disappearing, or animals like quail becoming scarce, resonated with him on a deep level. “I thought, what if I’m 90 years old, like my grandfather, and the thing I love is gone?” he recalls.

This realization sparked Clay’s commitment to conservation. In 2010, he founded the Arkansas Black Bear Association, a grassroots conservation organization aimed at preserving and advocating for bear populations in the state. Although the association eventually shut down as Clay’s career in the outdoor industry took off, the work reinforced his belief in citizen-driven conservation efforts. “We need groups like Quail Forever that are interested in habitat and conservation — not just state agencies but citizen groups,” Clay says.

Clay’s conservation ethic is deeply tied to his understanding of the role hunters play in the stewardship of wildlife. His experiences have shaped his belief that preserving hunting traditions and the species we cherish requires a blend of science-based conservation and human connection. He firmly believes that hunting stories have the power to bridge the gap between hunters and non-hunters, especially when they center on the shared values of family, tradition, and responsibility. “When a resource is culturally valued, it will be protected,” he says.

For Clay Newcomb, conservation and telling the stories of hunters and the animals we cherish goes hand in hand. In all his storytelling, Clay’s goal is to honor the people and relationships that make hunting meaningful.

“The thing that connects all the stories I’m passionate about telling is the deep, foundational connection we have to wild places, wild animals, and human relationships,” he explains. “It’s not just about the quail or the bear — it’s about people, community, and preserving a way of life. Hunting is about the relationships we build — from our own children to our friends. Those are the stories I’m most interested in telling.”