View Full Version : Want to hear some of your hunting stories.
January 3, 2008, 09:20 PM
Hey guys, I want to hear some of you peoples hunting stories.
January 3, 2008, 09:47 PM
My father dropped a pheasant with a right hook one time. It flushed further down the line and flew right at him so he swung, hit it, and the bird was done for. He was about 85 years old at the time but he really put the mustard on that bird, it was down for the count, no neck-wringing needed.
I know I will never beat that one. I've had a few good shots and lively days of hunting, but no bare-knuckle birds so far.:D
Fat White Boy
January 3, 2008, 10:31 PM
I was hunting quail in Central California. I had to take a leak so I rested my Remington 1100, butt on the ground, barrel securely in the fork of a small tree.. I was doing my thing when a friend flushed a bird about 50 yards to my left. I didn't have time to put things away but I did have time to grab my shotgun and drop the quail. One bird with my pants around my ankles. True Story!
January 7, 2008, 11:40 AM
I was bow hunting elk on the Oregon coast, just still hunting down an abandoned logging road. There was a covey of quail on the up hill side, trapped against the bank. Every time I took a step, one quail would flush and then coast down to the far end of the line from me. It was just making me nuts, as I am trying to ghost down the road. Finally, after about 6 quail had played this game, I saw a big shadow glide across the road. A huge red-tail hawk swooped up in a tree over looking this little situation.
I took one more step and the next quail flushed. The hawk hit him so hard there was an explosion of feathers. I was just laughing my a** off. I had basically been the driver for the hawks hunt.
That pretty much freaked the rest of the birds out and the next step I took launched the rest of the covey and they glided down hill off the road.
Good stuff, nature at its best.
January 7, 2008, 12:13 PM
1) Was on my deer stand in Alabama, located just above an old moonshine still, waiting for a deer to show. All of a sudden, I got hit in the head and hit hard enough to knock my hat off and give me a cut on my head. After regainig my witts, looked up in the tree above and in front of me and there was a very large owl, looking me over. Finally flew off. Guess he must have been standing his watch, over the still.
2) While hunting grey squirrels, shot one and as it was thrashing on the ground, A Red-Tail hawk flew down and just flew off with it. Well, that's one I didn't have to clean.
January 7, 2008, 12:40 PM
One time, I was hunting deer on a friend's property in a stand. It was about noon, and I had not seen anything move at all over the last 3 hours. In fact, it had become earily quiet -- even the birds had stopped singing and chirping, and not a single tree-rat was around.
I was bored, so I climbed out of the stand and followed a trail into the timber to try some slow stalk hunting. Even though I was on a trial, the timber was very thick, and the trees and brush blotted out most of the mid-day sun. I realized how dark and still things were as I proceeded down the trail.
As I rounded a curve, I suddenly heard a deep, growling and hissing sound from under a stump at the side of the trial. Deep within the darkness of the stump, I saw two red eyes peering out, and the growling got louder as I realized that whatever was under that stump had seen me.
In an instant, a blur of fur shot out from the stump and charged right at me. The blur stopped about 10 feet away from me, and it was only then that I realized how much trouble I was in. Standing before me was a very large racoon, but this was no ordinary racoon. It was frothing at the mouth in-between growls, and it's red eyes were slits of pure hate. It stood there for a second and kept growling at me, and then it charged again.
I only had an instant to react! I raised my rifle, found the head of the charging, rabid raccoon in my scope, and fired. The .308 Winchester thumped on impact; I'd hit the racoon right in the head, and the round flipped the thing about 4 feet backward. "Holy Cow!" I thought to myself, as I stood there in shock and looked at the bloodied raccoon.
But the coon wasn't finished yet. It rolled over onto it's right side, got onto it's feet, and slowly turned to face me, growling in rage; the plain white froth that had been dripping from it's mouth was now a mix of rabid spittle and blood. A large hole was pouring blood from the coon's jaw. With each growl, the coon was becoming more and more enraged, and spitting a disgusting mix of froth and blood from its mouth. Once again, the coon uttered a ferocious growl and charged again.
At this point, I realized that I hadn't racked the bolt and loaded another round in the rifle. I knew there was not time to rack that bolt before the rabid animal would leap all over me. I raised the butt-end of the rifle over my shoulder; the coon covered that last 10 feet in a flash, and it attempted to jump up onto my chest, with teeth bared and claws outstretched.
I brought the butt of the rifle down on the leaping coon as hard as I could. My aim was pure luck. The butt of the rifle make contact squarely with the coon's head, and I smashed that coon back at least 3 feet away from me. The coon was stunned, but still growling. As it started to stand up, I tried to rack my bolt, but somehow the round jammed, and I knew that I'd have to finish the killer coon without the aid of a firearm.
As the coon began staggering toward me, I dropped the rifle, and drew my 8" buck knife from its scabbard. This time, I charged the racoon, with the knife blade glinting earily in the shadows of the timber. When I reached the coon at the end of my charge, I plunged the knife as deeply as I could into the top of the coon's body, and narrowly avoided being bitten as I stepped back. I'd sunk that knife all the way through the top of the coon's body, but it still wasn't done fighting. It staggered toward me again, and I knew that I had to end this fight the best that I could. So I punted the rabid racoon as hard as I could. It was a kick that Jason Elam would have been proud of. The coon was launched high into the air, and finally fell down about 30 yards away from me. The coon looked in my direction, and it screamed at me in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The darn thing still wasn't done! It slowly started staggering back toward my location on the path; I could see the handle of my knife sticking out of the racoon's back.
At this point, I'd had enough; I picked up my rifle, and I turned around and ran back to the stand in the field where the ATV was parked. As I ran out of the timber and hit the cornfield, I heard the coon scream a final, enraged challenge. I fired up the ATV and got the heck out of there!
January 7, 2008, 01:33 PM
Fremmer - did you ever recover the knife, or was that the sacrifice to the god of rabid raccoons??
January 7, 2008, 02:08 PM
Wow! I'd be tempted to bring an M1A instead of the bolt gun for my next outing!:eek:
January 8, 2008, 01:38 PM
What it sounds like to me is that the .308 is a little light for coons. :D I will be bringing the .450 on the next coon hunt, or at least my M1A.
January 8, 2008, 02:03 PM
i'll prolly get a flaming but...
in n.c. i asked (and was given permission) to go shoot rats near a guys house.
in a shed, at dusk, i see small movement.
i fired, and all hell broke loose.
i had blasted the guys pet turkey!
well, they were pretty good sports, they de-feathered and cleaned and cooked it.
i couldn't eat it though.
they called me turkey killer the rest of my stay:o
January 8, 2008, 02:42 PM
I was out shooting crows off a dead something with a .22 while my friend was patterning his shotgun and playing with choke tubes. We kept hearing shots way off in the distance and were speculating as to what type of gun we were hearing. Then after a long string of distant shots, something hit the the back of my calf that felt just like a paintball. I looked down and saw a .30 cal rifle bullet laying there with no damage except for the rifling marks. Even the lead tip was undamaged. The gun it came from was definitly semi-auto so I'm thinking .308. I can't imagine how far a .308 would have to travel to hit like a paintball but we got the hell out of there before that guy decided to shoot something faster. That was about 14 years ago and I still have that bullet today.
January 8, 2008, 06:51 PM
Fremmer, thats a sweet story! I think i would have chased the coon to get my knife back but i probly wouldnt cause id be too scared. bushidomosquito, a paintball travels at or less then 300 fps. It probly would be like 2000 yards mabye?
January 8, 2008, 07:22 PM
it was a cold december morning back in 2002. had my shotgun permit for either sex deer. got in my stand late. about 8:30 am by 8:50 i heard a snap behind me, i froze for a few seconds and looked left and right. did'nt see anything else. i have had 2 or 3 come in at once from different angles. and 1 will spook the others if i move to much and they see me. so i sat waiting, i heard another snap behind me. i leaned around to the right and out the corner of my eye i saw a deer. it was maybe 30 yards out heading towards me. i sat and listened kept looking out the corner of my eye to the left. finally it stepped out where i did'nt have to move much. it was maybe 25 yards away by now. i put the shotgun up to my shoulder looked through the scope and put the crosshairs right behind its right front leg about halfway up its body. clicked off the safety and squeezed the trigger. POW i put a 12 gauge slugger slug right through its ribcage and out it neckbase on the left side. my first deer, i was so excited i almost fell out of the stand. my dad was about 80 yards away and yelled over was that you shooting. i yelled back yup. and i got it too. he got out of his stand before i got out of mine. he ran over to see what i got. saw it and said -CENSORED--CENSORED--CENSORED- IS THIS LITTLE THING . i gutted it and checked it in at the game station. 18# doe i am sad it was only 18# but it was still a deer my first deer at that. me and the family ate some of it withine a few weeks after it was butchered. tasted funny i am not too sure why. was kept cold and had ice in and on it after checking it in at the station. no one got sick though. that was a good thing.
every deer i have seen after that look like a moose. that one did too from the stand that morning.
i went deer hunting on saturday didn't see any deer. but was 20 feet away from the car was loaded for deer and had 2 squirrels run right at me. they got within 30 yards. and i didn't have any fine shot loaded. :( it figures now if i was loaded for small game those squirrels would have been deer. right?? murphys law.
January 8, 2008, 09:03 PM
Whats that mean?
January 8, 2008, 09:51 PM
18# doe.............I think he's telling the truth.
About a dozen years ago we hunted Sapalo Island off the southeast Georgia coast. Lots of deer, but small. At the game station I saw a number of deer that went well under 30 pounds gutted, a few under 20 and one that went 12 pounds. And no the 12 pound one did not have a bunch of spots on it.
I'm sure the state of Ga. has records someplace of the hunts as they were manning the game station and taking jaw bones.
January 8, 2008, 10:00 PM
i caught a 30lb hog in a trout net .now that was a rodeo.
once i was bow hunting on the edge of a bean field, sittin in my tree stand when i hear the low rumble of an airplane engine turn to look just in time to see the crop duster dump a load of some kind of yellow powder on top of me. could barely breath and my skin burned like fire. sorta fell down out of the tree and ran about 80 yards and jumped in the north canadian river.
January 9, 2008, 07:55 PM
So a 18# doe means a 18 pound doe?
January 9, 2008, 10:14 PM
did you ever recover the knife, or was that the sacrifice to the god of rabid raccoons??
Last I saw, it was stickin' out of the racoon's back. So I never recovered it, but I suppose that the coon earned the knife, fair and square.
January 10, 2008, 09:42 AM
18# doe means 18 pound doe (female). it did not have spots. most likely a 1 year old. i am itching to get another deer. but my chance will come again.
January 11, 2008, 07:39 AM
Didn't happen to me but I saw it happen.
My Uncle and I were dove hunting next to each other a few yards apart. A flight of birds came in heading straight for him. I watched as he raised his 20ga Parker, and dropped one, then the second one. As the second one fell, he reached out and caught it in his hand, put it down beside his stool, and walked out and picked up the first one with an 'I meant to do that" look on his face. :D
One that happened to me. Deer hunting with dogs one morning late in the season. We didn't have enough people to stand the marsh properly so I had gone over in the marsh to "cut the drive in half." The dogs jumped, ran around a bit, and I saw a deer (turned out to be a button buck) coming toward me. He got down and crawled under a bunch of brush and came out the other side and was looking straight down the barrel of my Mossberg. He was about 20 yards away, and I saw his eyes open up like a cartoon character. I suspect the last thing he ever saw was the muzzle flash.
January 11, 2008, 07:48 AM
That was a great story - Thanks for sharing.
January 11, 2008, 11:43 AM
Buddy related a story about him and his dad hunting. I saw his dad shoot a lot and he was the best shot I have ever seen. He had been a small arms instructor for Uncle Sam back in the day.
They were rifle hunting elk and all of a sudden, his dad whispers "stop" and pulls up his rifle. My buddy thinks his dad has completely lost it, since there is nothing out there to look at. All of a sudden, BOOM, his dad's 300 Mag goes off. "Come on, we got work to do now" says the Dad. My buddy is completely unglued by this time.
His dad had seen the tips of antlers above a log, and the bull was peeking at them from under the log. He shot it through the eye. I don't recall the range.
January 11, 2008, 12:21 PM
Have to compliment the shot and mostly the "Hunter's Eye". Have trained my wife to have a Hunter's Eye" and she can spot deer better than I. I will see three and she will count five. While squirrel hunting with my Gradson, he spotted a squirrel looking out of a hole in a tree. Could barely make him out, scoped him and sure enough. Not a good shot so he will live for another season. He has the Hunter's Eye. I often ask how many game animals do we stalk past while they are watching us. Saw my Bow hunting buddy stalk past a nice buck and that buck held tight till it was clear.
January 11, 2008, 02:42 PM
I am pretty good at finding deer ears poking up from a brush pile, but have found only good looking sticks when I think I see horns.
He was just a natural great shot, plus he worked at it. When he passed away, my buddy inherited the "load notebooks" - 6 big binders of load data for every caliber the family had ever owned. He would do 5 shot groups of each load until he found the perfect one for each rifle.
January 11, 2008, 08:01 PM
Most of my hunt stories are not gun related but you asked...
As a 16-18 year old (many years ago) I ran a small trap line. I had a few dozen placed along a Coulee (cajun fer big county ditch). One morning before school I was out runnin' traps and came across my first Nutria. I did not use guns. I had a small maple club. I whacked him and as I did he ducked and chomped down on my and took it:eek: I chit and ran home waking up my dad fer permission to use his/my .410 to till the "baby bear" I had trapped. He let me and I bagged my first nutria. He and ma bought me a pawnshop single shot .22 for christmas.
January 11, 2008, 08:11 PM
As my handle says, I hunt hogs using dogs only. We do not kill the hog usually. Well I love this sport. Guns and beer don't mix so this way i get to drinks a bit while huntin'
One night I had some other guys over a hunt with me and junior. The dogs were workin well. I dropped back from the crowd... no need to rush when it is 80 degrees in the middle of the night. I proceed to open my cut bag (mainly for field surgery stuff for the dog injury we may face) and dig out a cold beer. I am walking along about a hunert yards back from the other guys and the dogs were about 200 yards ahead. All of a sudden in the near moonless foggy darkness I see a dog coming at me. I am about to send him on with a "git ahead" when it just ain't runnin' like a dog. from about 10 feet I realize it is a hundred pound hog coming right at me at full steam. I barely had time to go offense and snort at him. He jogged off course just enuff to miss me! I never spilled a drop!
January 12, 2008, 04:48 PM
As a young man I loved to listen to my granddad tell us about how he grew up, and some of the things that he did. He was born in 1898, and they were poor folks. He hunted for food. I reallly like his story of tapping squirrles.
I being a dumb kid just had to ask him what he was talking about. He said his gun was too large to be shooting squirrles for food. if he sohot the squirrles they wouldnt be much left. So he had to learn how to tap a squirl. He went on to explain that tapping a squirril was driving the squirril up the tree untill it got in the smaller branches at the top of the tree, and then he would shoot the limb under the squirril. the limb would hit the squirril and knock him out of the tree.
Now I was 15 or 16 at the time and this sounded so good to me. So the next time I went squirril hunting I took my dads 45 long colt with me to try it out. now I took my 22 rifle too, it was a nice idea but I couldnt shoot to many with the thumbuster, it cost to much.
Any way when I got out there I found a squirril in a tree and went round and round the tree to run him up higher and higher. Of course it would stay on the opposite side of the limb from me and when he got up in the small limbs I pulled out the 45 and aimed at the limb I shot it and sure enough the squirril came fall ing out of the tree. I walked over and picked it up and put it in the toughsack I carried on my belt.
and went on hunting. I got two more before I found out something that granddad forgot to tell me. that darn squirril wasnt dead, just knocked out.
It was like having a weedeater in a sack. I thought he was going to eat my leg off before I could get the sack off my belt and beat it on a tree trunk to kill the squirril.
January 12, 2008, 05:36 PM
2 birds with one shot :)
January 12, 2008, 05:46 PM
Shinnery, gramps fergot to tell you that ya grab him by the hips and smack his head off the tree trunk a few times! I have had a rabbit, squirrel and a pheasent "come to life" in my game vest... I musta looked like a freak with each!
January 12, 2008, 07:45 PM
This is the hunt and it's cool and as dumb as you can get. We were hunting bears in the Feather River canyon just north of the town of Washington. My partner Bud was wanting a picture of a bear growling, seem simple huh. So as things go we treed a smaller bear maybe 200 lbs, almost blond in color and Bud said this is the one. Only thing is the bear didn't want to play along, we chucked stones, sticks, yelled and nothing worked. The bear was in a fur tree that had lots of limbs all the way to the ground on a steep canyon wall. We looked straight at the bear but he was about 20-25 ft above the ground. As a joke I got a 10 ft stick and started sharpening on end and said hey Bud you climb up in the tree get on the opposite side of the tree and Pole the bear with the stick! Bud is tough, he's been shot 3 times and can't remember where the holes are. Anyway I guess he thought I was serous gave me the camera and climbed into the tree, got Evan with the bear. He pokes the bear it would snarl and bite the stick, but I couldn't get the picture. After 3 or 4 tries he lets out a yell shoots his Smith 28 twice as he falls out of the tree. :eek:The bear is tired of the nonsense and he bales. We rush down to Bud and find him laying on his back with the stick pointing state up in one hand and his 28 in the other pointing strait up, kind of gasping. His down vest was all ripped down the front, down everywhere, but no blood thank god! I said did you shoot the bear and he kind of smiled and said H##l no the bobcat!!:mad: When the bear ran up the tree a bobcat ran up first and we didn't see it. I guess it got tired of the nonsense too and jumped in old Buds lap! Only problem was he missed the dam cat, bummer huh!! :cool:Doc
January 12, 2008, 08:12 PM
that is right up there with Jerry Clowers coon hunt skit!:D BTW it is a southern favorite! "Just shoot up amongst us as one of us needs some relief!"
January 13, 2008, 12:23 AM
I had the dumbest luck elk hunting this year. This was my first year elk hunting, and I had only gotten out for about one day total. Our fish and game department extended the season for two weeks because it had been so warm this year and not many people had harvested elk, so on the last day of the extended season, I went out with my wife to check out some public land that I wanted to hunt next year. We got out there late and saw some other hunters leaving just as we got there, so I figured the place would be cleaned out. No big deal, I thought, since I'm only looking for later.
So we walked up one hill and back down the other side. Then we argued over whether or not to go up the next hill or go around it. My wife, being 5 months pregnant at the time (now 7 months), wanted to go around, but I wanted to go up. Finally we agreed to do it my way, and worked our way up the hill. When we got there, I started glassing to the left. A couple of minutes later she caught up to me. She hadn't been there 10 seconds when I heard her say "HOLY S**T!" So I looked back to my right, and about 800 yards away was a 6 point bull elk and a spike. We crouched down and I started checking him out through my binos. After watching him for a few minutes, he laid down, right out in the open! So we snuck back down the hill, and I decided I would go right up the hill where he was bedded to see if I could get a shot. After about a 10 minute stalk up the hill, I suddenly saw antlers. I thought for sure I was busted, so I shouldered my rifle for a quick shot. Except that the elk wasn't moving. So I looked carefully through my scope, and saw that he was ASLEEP!:eek: I couldn't believe it. I was 40 yards away from a sleeping bull elk. So again, I shouldered my rifle, and, realizing that I had as much time as I wanted, took care to place a 180 grain bullet from my .300 WSM right behind his front shoulder. Hey, I couldn't miss, all I could see in the scope was elk hair. The bull lifted his head to look back and see what had just happened, and then his head flopped over to the side and he expired.
I still can't believe it was that easy. I'm sure it won't be that way again. And some of my friends who have been hunting elk for years still won't talk to me, having never shot a 6 point bull themselves. The head is at the taxidermist right now, and I can't wait to get it back.:D
January 13, 2008, 08:17 PM
I hope it is ok to post another one. I used to take my boy and his friend fishing when they were younger. one time I took them when they were 11 or so. now his friend just got a new 22 single shot for his birthday and wanted to know if he could take it with us. I didnt care, but momma said oh no. but I talked her into letting them take it if they only had some bird shot. we got to the stock tank we were going to camp at and fish. I started to set up camp and like kids will do they found a jack rabbit in the brush. they wanted to hunt the poor thing with bird shot. I told them to be careful and not shoot unless they had a clear shot. off they took. while I`m setting up the camp I hear a shot. in a bit I hear another and so on for almost a hour. in a while they show up in camp with this dead jackrabbit. they want to know if we can eat it. now I aint eating a no jack in the middle of the summer in Texas, not a good idea. but to humor the boysI told them we would use it for bate. and I started to dress it out. but there wasnt a drop of blood on the whole thing. I look it over for ten minutes and couldnt find anywhere they had hit it. I think they ran the poor thing to death
January 14, 2008, 01:00 AM
Me and my buddy were hunting the great chupacabra, I was using my trusty old Red Rider and he was using a slingshot. We finally found the beast sleeping, but he was tied to a tree. Suddenly an alien spacecraft came down and warped him up. I guess he is a pet or something. I took a shot at the ship, but my Red Rider failed to bring the heavily shielded spacecraft down.
We are lucky to have survived such an encounter without receiving a probing.
(just FYI, some of the other stories sound as believable as this one!;))
P.S. If they are true, don't be angry with me. :D
January 15, 2008, 01:20 AM
For me, the first anything has always been the best - the first pheasant, ruffie, sharptail, deer, elk (still need a first moose, still working on that one).
The most memorable hunting story I have so far is my elk hunt a few years ago. I had just caught a herd of elk moving off of a field into a half section of spruce and poplars that bordered a creek bottom. It was winter and I was following an established trail through the stand. Every once in awhile I would mew a cow call to cover the sound of my steps. I stopped in a clearing where I could see a field to the north and south. I began to here steps getting loader and loader - then I saw elk walking the edge of the southern field 75 yards away from me. There had to be a hundred cows and calves and spike bulls. I watched them go past me in single file - as far as I know, they didn't even know I was there.
After they moved past me, I was getting ready to get moving myself. Again, I herd steps coming towards me, but this time through the bush. After what seemed like an eternity, elk started melting out of the trees. Most of them were walking the same trail I was on. The calves were in the lead, along with the lead cow. All I had to hide behind was a 12" wide poplar. They came within about 20 yards. As soon as I moved to try and get a shot, they all put the binders on. They looked at me for a few seconds, and then bolted the way the came.
Somewhat discouraged, I followed the trail to where it came onto the southern field that I had just seen the 100 odd cows and calves earlier. I was about to give in for the day, when I heard what sounded like horses coming over the hill. Here was the same 100 cows and calves coming over the hill. The lead cow got within 50-75 yards of me before she stopped - I had the scope on her the whole time. When she spun to run back the other way, I took my shot.
That was my first elk! :D
January 15, 2008, 01:45 PM
I can’t vouch for the authenticity of this story, but it was told to me as being gospel by my mother and her family. I was never told who the masterminds of this incident were, since none would fess up, but the general consensus is that it was the “older” kids.
My mom comes from a large family, with a total of 9 brothers and sisters, all born and raised in west Tennessee. Once, when they were kids, they were all over at their grandmother’s house and they began to get a little bored. Being country folk, they wanted to go hunting, but being poor, they didn’t have anything for the kids to hunt with.
Well, the older kids told the younger ones that you can hunt squirrel by just using a stick. The younger ones had never heard of such a thing so they wanted to learn how to do it. They were excited at this mysterious technique and volunteered to do all the work. The older kids explained the procedure: first, go find a nice straight stick about 4 feet long, and about as big around as your finger. Next, you have to get up under the squirrel’s nest and shove the stick into it and then twist it as fast as you can. The squirrel would get agitated and jump out of the nest, at which point you can catch it. The secret being that you have to twist real fast, or else the squirrel won’t leave the nest.
So the young‘uns found a suitable stick and asked the older ones to lead them to a squirrel nest. The older ones said that they knew that a mean old squirrel had built one up under the house and it would be perfect. So the kids crawled up under the house with the stealth of hillbilly ninjas to the place where the older kids said the nest was. Next, the older kids instructed the eager new hunters to peek through cracks in the floorboards and wait until they see the old grey squirrel. They didn’t have to wait too long. All of a sudden, they thrust the stick through the crack and began a twisting and a turning. What a commotion! Kids laughing and hollering and above them, the sounds of Armageddon. But what happened was not what was expected. Apparently, the younger kids didn’t know that they were under their grandmother’s kitchen, right in front of the sink. They also didn’t realize that that at the time, their grandmother was standing there in her bathrobe doing the dishes. The kids had indeed, “twisted the old grey squirrel out of the tree”.
January 15, 2008, 04:10 PM
After 40 years I finally went out on my first hunt this fall. Nice chunk of private property owned by a friend of mine with a few great "overlook" spots near a creek. Arrived just a daybreak and realized it wasn't just cold, it was DAMNED cold at 17 degrees with a steady, cutting, breeze.
So we find a couple of good spots to sit (in the lee of some shrubs out of the wind) and settle in to wait. Time passes and I'm thanking God for the hand warmers tucked in my gloves and toe warmers in my boots :D and around us the forest starts to come to sluggish life.
Now my friend owns a chunk of the land on the opposite side of the creek as well, but once the uphill grade starts that's the neighbors property and he's asked us not to hunt on his land. Well three medium sized deer wander out and, you guessed it, they just meander along that property line, never really getting into the "free fire" zone. After about 30 minutes of this I'm thinking to myself "ah heck, now they're just playing with me" when, to add insult to injury, a grey squirrel jumps off of one tree branch onto the barrel of my rifle...and just sits there looking at me!
Finally Mr Squirrel jumps off and skitters away and I look back down the hill and the deer have absolutely vanished <sigh>.
January 16, 2008, 08:58 AM
I'm not that good at story telling but here it goes: I have a friend Wayne that is a registered Maine guide and when I was in High school he invited me and my best friend Matt to go bear hunting with him and some other guys using his bear dogs. I was 17, (26 now), and had signed up to join the Army as an Infantry soldier after I graduated High school, my birth day was on my first day at basic yeah:), So I had a little Rambo complex going.
To make a long story short the dogs get on a bear and ran it for miles, they even crossed a small river, and after about a half of day running the radio tracking device that Wayne has was indicating that the dogs were not moving and had probably treed the bear. We all head in towards the signal, about 10 of us, when we got there we found that the dogs had not treed the bear but had instead pushed it into it's den.
It was my friend Jeremy's turn to shoot the bear. All they had was a mini mag light to shine down this hole in between two huge ledges. Jeremy said he could barely make out the outline of the bear it was that far down in. He drew his Dan Wesson .44 mag and fired once and then fired again for good measure. Wayne went and got a long tree branch and shoved it down the hole, the branch moved a little from the bear and after the branch stoped moving Wayne asked so who is going to go down the very small hole and retrieve the bear? I looked around and realized that my hunting party was a little too chunky and no one was stepping forward, because I was going to be a grunt shortly I thought it would be in good taste to represent the Army so I stepped forward and volunteered.
Before I entered the hole they tied a rope around my waste so if the bear decided that the fight wasn't over yet they could haul my butt out. Then Jeremy offered for me to take his Dan Wesson into the den with me I replied that thing will probably blow my ear drums out and ricochet off the den walls and kill me. So I pulled out my 2 inch pocket buck knife and said this should do:cool: they all looked at me as if a had a big pair or that I was insane.
I started down the hole, It was a very tight fit in fact I could not turn around and I had to low crawl, It is amazing how this bear could fit in here. As I was going down I thought man this is a stupid idea, I had the flash light and my knife out in front of me and as I went further in I could see the bear. The den went in about 15 feet and the Bear's head was pointed in my direction and was partially blocking the tunnel. The bears body was in the actual den were it opened up a little. About this time my face was about a foot from the Bear's face and I realized that it was still breathing, I could see it's breath. The pucker factor peaked out and all I could do was lay still and hope for the best. About 2 minutes passed and the bear let out one last breath and then I took my buck knife and jabbed the bear right in the nose with the point of the blade, the bear did not react.
The fun begins, some how I managed to crawl around the bear and got behind it where the den opened up a little. It stunk in there and of course the bear relieved himself and I was covered in fresh number two which looks a lot like human number two, his last meal looked to be apples:barf:. I took the rope off of my waste and tied it around the Bear's neck and the guys outside of the den pulled as I pushed from behind. As the bear got 3/4 of the way out of the tunnel he got stuck and I was trapped behind him. I yelled to the guys that if they didn't get him out soon I was going to cut the bear open and crawl out his mouth:mad:, well with that they all gave one good heave and the bear came out.
The bear ended up being only 210 pounds but the guys thought I was crazy and they all admitted that if they could of fit into the hole there was no way in hell that they would have done that. They all remember that day and have told others about it and every once in awhile people around the area will refer to me as; oh, you're that kid that crawled into that bear den after that bear and I go yep:cool:. Oh, and when I got home I was covered from head to toe with blood and my mother freaked and thought it was mine and I said no it was not mine it was from the bear when I crawled down into the den to get it, she didn't like that.
One final note the bear had been shot twice in the neck and there was no way he could of hurt me, but I didn't know that when I went in after him.
January 16, 2008, 09:16 AM
Woah! Go easy on us guys with poor eyes and break up your paragraphs a bit! ;)
January 16, 2008, 10:09 AM
First time i went bow hunting I ended up bagging 2 deer with 1 shot. Was about 5 yards away from a nice little 4 point buck and behind him about another 5 yds was a big doe. Well, I shot him and the arrow (2413 with a 3 blade muzzy) went right through the vitals and never hit a rib (yeah a freakin miracle) and the arrow then continued on its flight path and ended up hitting the doe right behind the shoulder and partially exiting in front of the chest ( i had no idea the doe was hit at this time).
I was just sitting there watching the buck who was doing the normal confused trot and trying to figure out what just hit him and that is when i saw the doe walking around and then just dropped. I did the "what the f#@$k" when the doe dropped and that spooked the buck who bolted about 20 yds then just slowed down and layed down (never to get up).
At this time I was really excited, but didn't want to get up and move because I might spook them, so waited a little longer than when they both weren't moving I went to each and made sure each had died then field dressed both and dragged the buck back to the truck. Had to get on the CB to call the neighbor (who is a game warden) and had him come over and help with the large doe. I told him what happened and he said it was a once in a lifetime thing for a bow hunter but he let me off the hook as long as i used my brothers tag for the doe.
My brother didn't ahve a problem with this, because he a lazy and liked the idea of getting a filled tag without having to get off his rear.
Funny thing is i didn't get another deer that year for the rifle season or muzzle loader.
January 16, 2008, 05:37 PM
Me and a buddy were hunting on Mt Graylock in western Mass several years ago. While hanging around the campfire after dinner, a porcupine waddled in the tent. We shoved him out with sticks, but he came back. This went on about 4-5 times. I guess he finally got sick of being shoved with a large tree branch and left.
January 18, 2008, 04:49 PM
In 1996, I received permission to cross a ribbon of private land to access a small landlocked portion of Black Hills National Forest. By landlocked, I mean to say that access was blocked on all sides by posted private lands. The kindly Rancher I spoke with told me no one had hunted that 2.5 square mile area of public land for over 10 years. Oddly, no one had asked either.
It was a bright and sunny day with no clouds at all. Patches of snow remained from the previous week’s storm. But the temperature hovered near zero and a brisk wind moaned as it blew through the large pines that dotted this area. I felt the chill sting my ears and face but rest of my body was warm inside layers of good outdoor clothing. I carried Meat-Maker over my shoulder and stopped often to study the area ahead with my 10X field glasses. About a dozen does were observed along the rim of a large basin but my hunt was for a big buck.
These does were alert but did not run as I crossed the basin and struggled up the opposite slope toward an alpine meadow. From ¼ mile away, I could make out a stand of mountain mahogany. This leafy bush grows best where shaded from the afternoon sun. Mule deer seem to love it and are often found close by this vegetation after winter kills off other ground plants. I levered a cartridge into the chamber and lowered the hammer to half cock for safety. These metallic sounds must have carried for some distance because a raven launched itself from an unseen roost to fly away caw-cawing alarm for all to hear. The wind continued to moan across the frozen landscape. My toes began to hurt a little from the cold.
I found a heavily used game trail in a little break in the tree line that formed a saddle within the ridgeline. Bighorn sheep, elk, and mule deer tracks were observed. Ever present coyote tracks were evident as well. I posted myself about 100 yards from this narrow trail and waited quietly in the shade of a large pine for a good shot. After an hour, my toes quit hurting. I’d forgotten about the stinging cold upon my ears. Little did I know that frostbite was attacking my flesh and turning liquid blood into frozen ice crystals. About half hour before dark, a deer snorted loudly. I knew the animal was making its way along the game trail. I knelt in the snow and cocked the hammer.
The tall antlers nearly took my breath away as the colossal buck stepped into view. I hadn’t seen a buck like this in many years. The long polished ivory tips contrasted with the dark forest background. He walked steadily with his nose up at times to scent the air. I slowly raised the Winchester and steadied myself against the pine. The buck stopped broadside to me at about 125 yards. He exhaled loudly and a large cloud of frosty steam was expelled from his open mouth. The crosshairs steadied on his shoulder and my carbine cracked loudly to break the stillness of the mountainside. Instantly, the buck toppled over and kicked wildly for a moment as he struggled to get up. But the 170 grain soft nose was aimed true and he was hit hard. The struggling ceased. I approached the downed animal cautiously from behind and touched an eyeball with my barrel. But the great buck did not blink as he was quite dead indeed. Another one shot kill for Meat-Maker! Meat-Maker is the name of my modern angle-ejecting Winchester 30-30, a gift from Dad the previous year.
After dressing the animal, I attempted to drag it. But the animal barely moved. Dressed weight was guessed at close to 300 pounds and most of the ground was lacking snow. Instead of risking injury crossing the canyon in the growing darkness, I took the shortest route back to my car and headed to town for my wheelbarrow and help. I sensed it was getting colder.
By the time my friend Keith and I returned to the ridge, it was past 8PM. A full moon was already up and cast shadows across the basin. Keith said it was the biggest buck he’d ever seen. It took both of us to get the animal loaded into my wheelbarrow and lashed down with rope. We took turns at the handles and made our way across the basin cautiously. A slip in the darkness could spell serious injury in this steep country. We got back to my place two hours later and hung the buck from our front landing to remove the hide. I had to use a ladder and chain hoist to lift the heavy animal. Great clouds of steam rolled off the flesh as we removed the thick hide. It was getting colder!
We finished and went inside at about 11 PM. Within a moment, my ears and face began to hurt. My toes ached badly as if crushed. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. Too stubborn to visit the ER, I toughed out the long night with Aspirins. But in the morning large blisters had formed on my ears and cheeks. My toes were dark blue and hurt badly. It was time to visit the doctor.
The temperature continued to drop. The mercury finally stopped its dive at 27 below zero. Trees in the forest next to our home split open with loud cracking sounds. High temperature over the next two weeks was only 11 below zero! I had to remain indoors under strict doctor’s orders. The buck froze solid but my wife and kids wrapped the large animal with blankets to keep birds away. After my frostbite healed, an electric SAWZALL was used to cut the frozen animal into manageable pieces and brought inside to thaw enough for butchering.
I’m proud of this trophy as it is mounted with dignity within our Family Room. But the memories related to frostbite remind me of the tough winters of western South Dakota.
January 19, 2008, 04:37 PM
Sorry guys but I got to tell you one more. while in high school I had a friend who went with his dad every year hunting elk in colarodo. now this was in the late 60s. they had been doing this for years and he always told us about the hunt, and would even share the vinison with us if we were lucky. this year was going to be great for him, he had just gotten a new 7 mm mag for the hunt and he ws so proud of it.
when he came home he didnt say much about the hunt. we had to ask how it went. He said they had a lot of good luck and a little bad. Had to ask his dad what happened to get the whole story. seems that on the first day my friend had gotten a shot a beautiful bull and dropped it in its tracks. they walked up to the bull and jabed it with the barrle of the rifle and it didnt move a hair his dad got out the camera and my friend layed his rifle across the antlers and held the head up to have his picture taken. when the flash went off the bull woke up and took offwith his rifle in his antlers. they tracked it for hours and never found a drop of blood. It wasnt till they got home that they saw in the picture that he had hit the base of an antler and knocked it out. he never found his rifle
January 19, 2008, 05:59 PM
Jack, awsome buck. Now that is what I am talking about when I saw the deer are bigger up north.
I am a south dakota boy displaced in the south west and the deer are a third the size of the ones up north.
AGain, awsome buck!! Wish I were back in SD.
January 20, 2008, 08:48 PM
Also known as Harbor Seal or Common seal...
I was attending a hunting and fishing school in Norway some years back.
My whole class was going seal-hunting at the west coast of Norway,
it took some time to get there and when we finaly got there the eximent grew as none of us had never hunted seal before, including our teacher.
We had a stratgy thoug, we would take the bout out to difrent islands and jump to shore and the boat would speed of.
you are probertly wondering why we would do that.
The seal is a very courius creature,
he would come up to see what the noise was about and then we would fire.
Sounds easy right?
Well we started out allright, we got in the boat an got of at the island.
It was as the seal was expekting us, i haddent gotten more than 70 feet towards my post as i saw somthing "dipping" in the surface.
At that time i had no ammo in my rifle, i got down using by back pack as a base for my rifle, aiming at the "thing" with my crosshair at the center of the "thing".
i loaded the rifle but it was not moving at all, i was laing there in that stand off with the seal for maybe a minutte.
when it finaly moved it was to late, the seal was gone...
i was realy angry with my self but i comforted my self with knowing that i at least i was a safe hunter (it was no real comfort at the time).
i got to my post and sath there for what seamd like a eternety, then it showed up again this time he was a lot smarter,
he was maybe 350 feet out, but i was smarter too so i got down again, and this time i fired, i saw a big splash and that was the end of it i had missed my chanse again...
that night i was praying to god to give me another chance.:D
shorly, the next day i got up to that exacte same post.
seconds, minuttes and houres past.
when you sit there just stearing at the ocean for that long, your mind starts to play tricks on you,
so i got down again aiming at some waves that lookt "sucpicious" i were aimig like this for a cuple of minuttes, when i finaly lookt up i saw a head in the water about 300 feet out,
i sloly turned my rifle :confused:wisseled:confused: at it one time that was enogh.
one shot, one seal
we found a exit wound at the back of its neck and a missing eye...
third time is the charm, right?
it was about 100 kilogram:D
another guy got one to... his were 120 kilogram
the whole of the school had "Phoca vitulina" for dinner a couple of weeks later:D
sorry for my English:o
January 21, 2008, 01:03 PM
Bruno, that...was...awesome!! I wanna go seal hunting now!
January 22, 2008, 04:31 PM
yeah it realy feels good to bag a seal...
i have to warn you though, its a messy job with skinning them and all that.
they have atleast 2-3" of fat here in norway, this is difrent from place to place as they would have more if its colder and good food suplie.
the point is, if its 1" or 4", the fat will trancfere from the seal to you.
my wool-swether stil smells like seal (similar to fish smell) and have traces of seal blood on it...
is it legal to hunt seal in the us...
those who say seals are cute has not seen their teeth up close...
We also had another encouter with the wild in my class as we were deer hunting...
one of my class mates got to his post, as he sat down a Red deer doe came but he was not redy so she lived to be hunted another day.
30 min later he saw a male deer and as he raised his rifle it came charging towards him.
he shot the deer in the :confused:throwt:confused: in self defence at 30 feet.
the only thing he saw in the scope was somthing brown...:eek:
We heard over the radio, with a wery cool voice " A deer has fallen":cool:
this pics are the before and after...
It had 10 spikes on the :confused:anthlers:confused: and i think we got 70 kilograms of meat out of it...
Im refering to Red deer (Cervus elaphus).
January 22, 2008, 05:00 PM
I need to go to a hunting and fishing school...:D
January 22, 2008, 05:23 PM
My first deer killed was when I was 15 I think. I was up in the stand with a Winchester 30-30. I had spent the entire weekend up there and it was the last day. About an hour ofter getting situated a nice doe came out about 50 yds away. She was about 130lbs or so.
Somehow, I remained calm, sighted in, and concentrated on everything I knew about making a good shot, breathing, trigger control, all of it...BOOM!
The shot couldn't have been any better. It went right through her left ear giving me a .3" hole to run my tag through, and into her brain stem dropping her on the spot. Didn't even jump. Dead before she hit the ground.
After that I waited about 5 mins or so before coming down, just in case a buck I didn't see was following her and decided to come out. Dummy I am, I didn't load another round.
I get to the ground, managed to get her in a fireman's carry to take her back to camp, when Mr. Buck stepped out of the bushes about 20yds up, looking at me. Looked at me for a solid three seconds too. I grabbed the rifle, and just as I was loading another one in the chamber he barked/grunted/mooed at me and took off like greased lightning. Almost had two that day if I had just reloaded and waited a bit longer.
January 22, 2008, 05:41 PM
I was out hunting pig in outback New South Wales about a decade ago. This involved a long 10-11 hour drive from home to the farm. Upon arrival we moved into the shearers quarters and put the guns away. Out came a few beers to settle the dust before going to bed.
After a couple of beers I popped outback to relieve myself peeing on a fence- I jumped out of my skin, having peed on an electric fence.
February 3, 2008, 01:44 AM
My son was 10 years old and he wanted to go deer hunting with dad. Dad had him shooting the 22 since he was 8 so why not. My buddy and me and my son left home and arrived at my buddies father in laws house to pick him up on Wednesday night. We always spent the night at his Father in laws house and head for our deer area first thing in the morning. That night, after dinner we were sitting around the kitchen table going over a map of the area and how we would look for fresh signs, at this time my son asks, "How do you tell fresh signs for deer in the area?" We explained how to identify doe tracks from bucks tracks, how to tell how old the tracks are, and beds and fresh scat. The fresh scat had my son with another question. " How do you tell fresh scat?" Having answered ten thousand questions from him so far, I told him that you take a little piece and touch it to your tongue, if it burns your tongue it is fresh. We arrived at our hunting camp about noon and first thing was to set up our kitchen and cover it from the rain or hail which always happened to arrive sometime after we arrived. Opening day was Saturday and we arrived on Thursday before opening day. We always use the afternoon on Thursday to set up camp and check out the areas to hunt for fresh signs of deer in the area. My son was on a deer trail about 25 feet below the trail I was on, when he said, " Dad!! I found some fresh deer sh&t" I then asked him how he knew it was fresh? He replied" cause it burns my tongue!
I didn't have the heart to tell him that that way was just something I made up until several years ago, figured he wouldn't hit an old man. He is now 36 years old. I'm not proud of what I told him but everytime I think back to that day I get a chuckle. He still love me.
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