Any idea of what it was?
What’s your spookiest hunting experience?
- Thread starter marksman1941
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Pat McManus, A great outdoor humor writer. RIP. Said someone should invent a mean cow finder. It would pick out the only cow in the herd that was just waiting for you to get close.
craig hicks
Member
My scariest was actually my dad's. He told me this story when I was mid 20's and anticipating the birth of my own son.
I was about 7 or 8 years old, and my dad and his partner Dan Culley sometimes took me along on their duck hunting trips. One morning the three of us went to a new pond in the overgrown field of a long abandoned homestead. The seasonal pond had grown a large perimeter of reeds, cattails and marsh grass. We blazed a trail through the cattails in the predawn darkness, and started spreading the decoys. After that was done, dad remembered he had left his thermos of coffee back at the Jeep. He asked me if I felt I could take his flashlight and go retreive it. I was a little nervous, but I said ok. I made my way back through the 100 yards or so to the rig and brought back the thermos. When the sun got high we picked up the decoys and started back down the now tramped down trail. About half way back my dad stopped cold. In front of him, nearly centered in the path, was a half covered hole. The hole turned out to be a hand dug well. It was about 18 inches in diameter, deeply dug and full of water to within three feet of ground level. All of us had managed to miss it on the way in, in the dark, and me on my solo trip for coffee.
I was about 7 or 8 years old, and my dad and his partner Dan Culley sometimes took me along on their duck hunting trips. One morning the three of us went to a new pond in the overgrown field of a long abandoned homestead. The seasonal pond had grown a large perimeter of reeds, cattails and marsh grass. We blazed a trail through the cattails in the predawn darkness, and started spreading the decoys. After that was done, dad remembered he had left his thermos of coffee back at the Jeep. He asked me if I felt I could take his flashlight and go retreive it. I was a little nervous, but I said ok. I made my way back through the 100 yards or so to the rig and brought back the thermos. When the sun got high we picked up the decoys and started back down the now tramped down trail. About half way back my dad stopped cold. In front of him, nearly centered in the path, was a half covered hole. The hole turned out to be a hand dug well. It was about 18 inches in diameter, deeply dug and full of water to within three feet of ground level. All of us had managed to miss it on the way in, in the dark, and me on my solo trip for coffee.
marksman1941
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Man I grew up on Pat McManus. He was very formative in my humor and story telling. He was one of the greats.
That's absolutely gnarly!
That's just messed up.
Put your mind at ease. Remember the old saying, "what goes around-comes around".
epags
Well-Known Member
Since you had to bring up Alaska and snow and falling, I have to relate the following;
a bunch of military "hunters" (I am one of them) decide to go hunting for caribou one winter. Several of us had campers and several more had snowmobiles. We drive way back on snow covered roads where we see a small herd of caribou on a mountain side. The snowmobilers elect to drive up the mountain side and herd them toward us. We can see them several hundred of feet above us and all of a sudden one of the snowmobiles disappears. He was so focused on the herd he did not see a cliff. The snomobile and he dropped 50 to 75 feet straight down. Luckily for him and the snowmachine there was a drift of snow 5 to 10 ft deep below. The driver fell off and landed in the snow drift winded but unharmed.
The snowmachine buried itself staight down into the drift. We worked for several hours to dig it out and then to clean the very compacted snow out of the tracks.
No caribou were harmed at that time.....well as we drove out a second herd walks across the road in front of us. Everyone bails out and has to open the campers to get their rifles and ammo. We finally succeeded in getting two caribou which were divided amoung the 6 of us.
Nicely done young lady!
See my post #80. Humans can be a problem.
I've heard that beaver slap hunting pods in Minnesota. Scared the
out of me.Nice buck!
Well for me it was on a break in deployments when I went to Belize with a friend. Let's just say their guest sport hunting was rather immature in 2010. The sightseeing was good. Accommodations good. Skill atnguiding good. Logistics for hunting - well….
We were in pursuit of Brocket Deer. To get to the part of the jungle, we had to break trail. Our guides had two trucks and about half a dozen hands to cut trees to bridge washed out trails in a jungle monsoon. We finally set up camp, pitched tents and got ready to hunt. One truck departed with some of the crew to be beaters.
When the rain broke, we went hunting. They handed me an old Mossberg 185 16 gauge bolt action, with a handful of Brennecke slugs. My partner had nothing but her wits. We were told to head a direction (essentially "keep the howler monkeys on your left and go a kilometer and we'll meet you". No guide, just us, one shotgun and five slugs.
The jungle was thick and full of trees with acid sap that leaves a scar if you get it on your skin. We heard a couple deer and never saw one or had a shot. We moved gingerly and after an hour or two had barely made half a click when I said "enough" and used my Bushnell Backtrack (early simple GPS) to get back to camp.
Eventually the guides caught up in camp and apologized. They agreed to take us on a night stalk (legal there). It started storming. I was sitting on the roof of the truck crashing around the jungle with a .22 magnum rimfire I had not shot or had proven sighted in. The scope was 90 degrees out (turrets on left and top) and the reticle was not level.
We spotlighted a Brocket at about 150 yards. All I could see in the rain was the glow of the two eyes. I didn't take the shot.
We broke camp in the morning and went real hunting. I downed about half a dozen with#6 shot in an old 32" barrel full choke H&R Topper. I later found out it had no working transfer bar! The firing pin was welded up so the hammer could strike it. As parts rusted and were replaced with jungle engineering. The teal were tasty.
I also took an Algoutie(sp) which is like a big squirrel. Hit it on the run at 58 yards. Guides were impressed and asked why I shot so well. I showed them that shotguns shoot better if you put the shell in the chamber with the headstamp right side up, not at an angle. That was the key to my success!
The Algoutie was tasty as an appetizer as well.
Anyway that's my story (and I am sticking to it).
We were in pursuit of Brocket Deer. To get to the part of the jungle, we had to break trail. Our guides had two trucks and about half a dozen hands to cut trees to bridge washed out trails in a jungle monsoon. We finally set up camp, pitched tents and got ready to hunt. One truck departed with some of the crew to be beaters.
When the rain broke, we went hunting. They handed me an old Mossberg 185 16 gauge bolt action, with a handful of Brennecke slugs. My partner had nothing but her wits. We were told to head a direction (essentially "keep the howler monkeys on your left and go a kilometer and we'll meet you". No guide, just us, one shotgun and five slugs.
The jungle was thick and full of trees with acid sap that leaves a scar if you get it on your skin. We heard a couple deer and never saw one or had a shot. We moved gingerly and after an hour or two had barely made half a click when I said "enough" and used my Bushnell Backtrack (early simple GPS) to get back to camp.
Eventually the guides caught up in camp and apologized. They agreed to take us on a night stalk (legal there). It started storming. I was sitting on the roof of the truck crashing around the jungle with a .22 magnum rimfire I had not shot or had proven sighted in. The scope was 90 degrees out (turrets on left and top) and the reticle was not level.
We spotlighted a Brocket at about 150 yards. All I could see in the rain was the glow of the two eyes. I didn't take the shot.
We broke camp in the morning and went real hunting. I downed about half a dozen with#6 shot in an old 32" barrel full choke H&R Topper. I later found out it had no working transfer bar! The firing pin was welded up so the hammer could strike it. As parts rusted and were replaced with jungle engineering. The teal were tasty.
I also took an Algoutie(sp) which is like a big squirrel. Hit it on the run at 58 yards. Guides were impressed and asked why I shot so well. I showed them that shotguns shoot better if you put the shell in the chamber with the headstamp right side up, not at an angle. That was the key to my success!
The Algoutie was tasty as an appetizer as well.
Anyway that's my story (and I am sticking to it).
I was headed up into I think Alison Canyon, its off the Macks Canyon area on the Deschutes River
My headlamp batteries went out so I was in the dark on the hike up.
If anyone is familiar with the area there is a train on the west side of the river that goes through before sunrise and it makes a noise that echoes off the deep canyone calls. Its an amazing sound. When the train is across the Macks Canyon camp it throws it's light into the canyon I was hiking in.
The headlight lit up the entire canyon and i could see two coyotes behind me.
I dont' think they were following me, but no headlamp and another 30-45min till sunrise was not comfortable.
My headlamp batteries went out so I was in the dark on the hike up.
If anyone is familiar with the area there is a train on the west side of the river that goes through before sunrise and it makes a noise that echoes off the deep canyone calls. Its an amazing sound. When the train is across the Macks Canyon camp it throws it's light into the canyon I was hiking in.
The headlight lit up the entire canyon and i could see two coyotes behind me.
I dont' think they were following me, but no headlamp and another 30-45min till sunrise was not comfortable.
