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What’s your spookiest hunting experience?

0k i have a weird one for you guys not something supernatural but scared the hell out of me! Living in Colorado when i was much younger and possessed with chasing elk with my bow every minute i could manage. After work i would jump on the 4 wheeler run up the mountain and hunt till dark. I had decided to try a new spot that I thought may have a small spring hidden on the side of the mountain. Well it was stupid hot that day I made it down there and no spring so I picked a dim trail and decided to just wait out the evening. As i sat there frying in the sun I dosed off the next thing i felt was like being hit in the head with a hammer. When I got to my senses, I discovered I had no idea where I was. I mean not even what mountain talk about scared. I tried to calm myself and think what to do so i said just head up the hill something will look Familiar Well I hit a barbwire fence followed it and ran into my 4 wheeler. At that point I was starting to semi recognize where I was made it down the hill to the truck talk about freaky.Only thing I could figure later was maybe a heat stroke but talk about scary i wouldnt wis that feeling on anyone cheers.
Sounds like temporary amnesia from the blow to your head. What gave you the blow is the puzzle. Like a hammer ? Maybe an antler....I woke one night at home, wearing my CPAP sleeping in a recliner, felt like I'd been hit in the head by a punch. CPAP mask was knocked off. I was confused ! I figure it must have been our cat, who had the habit of starting off in the back of the house and racing to the front window, landing on the back of the recliner. This time, my head was in the way!
 
Three instances.

1. My game scout in Zimbabwe was murdered in front of us. Poacher with an ax to grind. Filet knife under the ribs.

2. A Russian lit a round off (accidentally) behind my head. Debrief revealed that he was aiming at something in front of me and was peeking past my head.

3. 48 hours later, Russian #2 touched my knee with the muzzle of his 300 Wm. I jerked away the instant he pulled the trigger. I mean the exact instant. Like .1 seconds later or 1" slower and I'd be dead (in a remote canyon) or on 1 leg.

They were invited to leave immediately.
 
Two falls ago I got a leftover any doe tag good for any legal season. Went out with my bow and hunted for several hours then headed back towards the truck and dropped into a draw to get to another glassing spot. I was just walking along and had a mule deer doe run right toward me in the draw and stop at 25 yards and look back. I thought it was strange but didn't question my good fortune long.

I nocked an arrow quick and put it right through her heart. She ran about 30 yards and died. I then realized why she was looking back. As soon as she hit the ground there was a pair of coyotes on her. I chased them off and they stood and barked at me at about 60 yards while I broke her down and put her in my pack. I didn't make it 50 yards before they were on the guts and spine. I wouldn't say I was scared but I didn't want to be breaking that deer down in my headlamp. I've never seen coyotes acting so aggressive. They never seem to do something like that when I'm carrying a rifle.
There are reports of coyotes attacking humans. Like any prey animal they consider the size of their target.
 
WOW! Not sure if you read this, but this is one of scary moments I posted on this thread a while ago:

I've had the horrible occasion to be confronted like this twice. The first time was duck hunting in ND. I stumbled into a blind while trying to work my way to the other side of the pond. I had stepped on a soft spot I thought was solid and fell through the ice. My chest waders filled up. 22°F outside. I was freezing. I never thought waders could weigh so much. I caught myself on the way down with my 12ga and pulled myself out. I took out my knife and cut slits in the wader shoes to drain the water out. My dad taught me to do this if necessary. You must keep any warmth you can. No way was I going to lay down and let the water drain out the top of my waders. I was moving as fast as I could back to my truck. I had about 1/2 mile to run. The hunters in the blind were very pi**ed off at all my noise and started shooting at me, I was about 125 yards from them at this point. I was more frozen than angry at that point and kept running. When I got home, I pulled off all my cold weather gear. I found several hundred #6 pellets in my waders, coat, and hat. I never got hit bad, just a few pellet welts on my neck and real frozen. Frostbite on 6 toes and both feet. But all ended ok I was alive, but I needed new chest waders. Lessons learned.
What utter fool would ever shoot at someone like this? You're in trouble, so they shoot at you. Makes you want to go on the hunt yourself.
 
Walking back through thick central Wisconsin forest after sitting during muzzleloader season hearing wolf howls and leaves crunching behind me only to shine my light back and see 4 sets of eyes glowing. 1shot and four sets of eyes. Not a comforting feeling
In the the late '30s, John Oakes, the hired hand on my Great Uncle Nick's ranch out of Goble, Or., was walking home from the Goble Tavern, about a 3 mile walk. As he came up the hill out of Goble, he saw three sets of yellow eyes reflecting in the light of the lantern he was carrying. They followed him all the way home, circling him. He ID'd them as cougars, expressed some concern at this event,as he was unarmed.

As a boy, my Father was exploring that same ranch, up on the East side past the cleared hayfield, walking along the forest edge. The dog, Tip, suddenly shot into the nearby undergrowth, only to come shooting right back out at high speed, tail tucked under, kiyiying. Dad, young, had a momentary lapse, stepped into the woods where Tip had gone in, only to confront a cougar crouched there. It hissed at him and hightailed it. He might have been lucky.
 
As told by my grandfather who was born in the 1890's.

He told this story. When he was a young man, living in Central Louisiana, there was an old woman that lived nearby.

It seems that as a young woman, she was washing laundry/clothes in a nearby creek/bayou when she was attacked by a Panther, a long tailed very dark cat for the doubters that such an animal exists or existed.

She managed to get her apron strings around it's neck, chocked it too death.

My grandfather said that she carried the scars to her death as an old woman!

There were some tough folks back then! memtb
 
As told by my grandfather who was born in the 1890's.

He told this story. When he was a young man, living in Central Louisiana, there was an old woman that lived nearby.

It seems that as a young woman, she was washing laundry/clothes in a nearby creek/bayou when she was attacked by a Panther, a long tailed very dark cat for the doubters that such an animal exists or existed.

She managed to get her apron strings around it's neck, chocked it too death.

My grandfather said that she carried the scars to her death as an old woman!

There were some tough folks back then! memtb
Did it look like this one?
 

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As told by my grandfather who was born in the 1890's.

He told this story. When he was a young man, living in Central Louisiana, there was an old woman that lived nearby.

It seems that as a young woman, she was washing laundry/clothes in a nearby creek/bayou when she was attacked by a Panther, a long tailed very dark cat for the doubters that such an animal exists or existed.

She managed to get her apron strings around it's neck, chocked it too death.

My grandfather said that she carried the scars to her death as an old woman!

There were some tough folks back then! memtb

We saw one roll out of a canyon above us about 10 years ago. Chilling sight. It was way bigger than a Mt. Lion and super dark but you could just make out spots through binos at about 300 yards. Forest Service said a bunch of other people spotted it too. We were about 5 miles from the border. I was happy not to spot it again. We also get an occasional black bear heading through.
 
As told by my grandfather who was born in the 1890's.

He told this story. When he was a young man, living in Central Louisiana, there was an old woman that lived nearby.

It seems that as a young woman, she was washing laundry/clothes in a nearby creek/bayou when she was attacked by a Panther, a long tailed very dark cat for the doubters that such an animal exists or existed.

She managed to get her apron strings around it's neck, chocked it too death.

My grandfather said that she carried the scars to her death as an old woman!

There were some tough folks back then! memtb
Necessity may be the mother of all courage...
 
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