What is your Best Hunting Story?

[Oak_Leaf]

I grew up hunting with my brother-in-law. My dad worked a lot, so my brother-in-law was like father to me. We spent a lot of time together and he did a lot for me. But when it came to whitetail, he was different. If there was a big buck at stake, he wanted it. He would always take the best stands and I always got the seconds.I got a lot of deer, but never the monster I'd always hoped for. This went on well into my high school years. Then came the girls. Then the parties. And then college. And this one particular girl came along in '86.

About 1987, I started pestering her about getting out and doing some hunting. By '88, she was on board. Her grandfather was thrilled, bought her a 243, and turned us loose on his land. This was about 500 acres of long time family land near the MS River. One night, before a hunt, the girls dad and me were talking, and he said "Joe (her grandfather) really likes you, and he wants you down on the Honey Hole in the morning". Next morning, I'm there, pouring rain, standing under the stand for shelter. I didn't normally smoke on a stand, but I was getting fidgety and decided to light up a Marlboro Red. I had just put my lighter up, and got my hands back on the gun, and a monster 11 point comes stepp ing out of some young pines. One shot later he was done. I was so amped up after that I drug that deer at least 3/4 mile back out to the put in point.

The grandfather essentially had his own his own personal WMA and knew what animals he had out there and where they were. He had sent one of the other guys down into the bottoms that day to drive that buck out and he knew exactly where he would come out. Told me some time later that he'd heard me talk about my brother-in-law (now ex brother-in-law) and wanted me to have something to show him. It was in fact bigger with more points than anything my brother-in-law had ever gotten. And he never shot anything bigger I dont believe. When that deer got hung on the wall, it was a good day. I still think about both of those guys to this day and wish they were still around to go hunting with.

 

[unclebob]

All of my deer have been memorable, due to sheer ridulousness, great family time, or insane luck. I would love to write them all out, and I will probably give an accounting of them when I'm not typing on a cell phone. But my most memorable that comes to mind is my first buck.

I was hunting with my uncle and cousin, whom really taught me to hunt. My dad rarely hunted and wasn't very good at it when he did make it to the woods.

So in oregon the rifle season is extended two extra days for youth hunters. My cousin and I are both youth (he was 14 and I was 17), so it's late late November and the last weekend of season for us. I've never killed a deer, my cousin had killed a stack already by this point.

We made a walk out through a logging skid road, and were on our way back to the truck just before last shooting light when my uncle says "there's a buck!! Just across the draw!"

Being fairly new to hunting, I couldn't spot the buck with my naked eye. It was dim light, rainy, and blacktail deer are fairly dark haired and blend in well with the ground especially when they're wet. I tried scanning with my rifle scope for the buck, but it was so fogged up I just had a little center portion of the scope that was clear, showing the very center of the reticle. Finally after a couple of minutes my uncle verbally walked me into the buck and I could see the white patch on its throat.

The problem was, we couldn't see antlers. My uncle knew it was big based on the white throat patches (it had 2) but we just couldn't spot antlers. So we're passing my rifle around, each of us trying to put antlers on this critter, for several more minutes. The buck is standing stock still this whole time. Eventually I remembered I had some Kleenex tissues in my backpack and I told my uncle to grab them so we could clean the scope lens off and maybe see the deer better to verify it was a legal buck.

My uncle unzipped my packs front pocket (which was my brothers pack that I borrowed and just threw my own stuff in on top of his) and found not only my Kleenex but a set of binoculars! So he pulled those out and started looking at the buck and forgot to give me the tissues.

After just a few moments of watching with the binoculars, my uncle exclaimed "it's a buck!!" I'm aiming at it through my limited field of view in the old Leupold 3-9, and I ask "cool, is it legal?" And my uncle halfway yelled "FREAKING SHOOT!!" So I did.

A 200gr Sierra game king from my dads old Remington 721 in 30-06 did the job, and we heard the buck run uphill for about 10 seconds before crashing and tumbling back down the hill. It was wild to hear just how much noise he made tumbling down the hill.

We knew he was dead so we ran back up the skid road to get close to him. Walking down in on him in the dregs of last light, I didn't have enough knowledge of deer to understand just how big he was. My uncle and cousins started losing their gourd while I just sat there looking at this big old fella. We expect he weighed 230 on the hoof, and measured 25.5" wide which is huge for a blacktail.

My cousin gutted him out in about 3 minutes flat and we started dragging him downhill while my uncle took the packs and guns to go grab the truck. We hit a couple of blind drop offs while heading down the hill where the deer took off, dragging my cousin and I downhill for ~30 feet before hitting a plateau. The second drop off my cousin took an antler tine in one butt cheek which bruised the heck out of him.

After a short, brutal drag we got him to the truck and it took 4 of us to get him up and in. Then the cold work of skinning him began at the house. It was a party, as the whole family came over to see my first buck, and we took turns warming up inside with pizza and hot chocolate while other people would work on skinning for a few minutes.

Every aspect of that night is printed in my brain, and is nothing but joyous.

The only bad part is the next day I papered that rifle just to have some bench time, and it was shooting an 8" group. Proper to the hunt it was shooting about 1". Somewhere along the line the scope took a hit. I'm extremely glad I still hit the deer where I planned to, even with the scope being out of whack.

Picture of the blacktail attached

That's a dandy buck!

 

[SkunkedAgain]

I've been hunting elk in Colorado since 2014 with no luck. I have seen elk and been close to them (had them mewing outside my tent at 4 am) but never the right sex or legal size. Last year a friend tells me to put in for Wyoming, avoid all the pressure that we have in Colorado. I draw a cow tag and am immediately disheartened. 90% of the hunting I do is by myself. I invite folks to come with me but it never works out. Normally I don't care, I like going by myself. But this is going to be in grizzly country. What makes me think this hunt is going to be any different?

I call my buddy up who told me about the tag and he says he is going to come out there with me. Fast forward a week before the planned hunt. I can't reach my buddy, no response to phone call, email, anything. I prep for my trip anyway. I talk to everyone I can get in touch with who has ever hunted in Wy, or in grizz areas. They say don't worry, just be bear aware. Day for departure comes, my buddy finally says he can't go, I drive up to Wy by my lonesome. Next day I get to the camp ground and set up shop. I'm the only one in the campground.

First day I walk out on this big opening to glass up on this big bowl. I see a set of horse tracks and follow them up to an area where get all jumbled up. I'm looking at what looks to be a massive pile of horse manure and tracks all around. Then I notice that there are 4 elk hooves around this small area, elk hair and what I'm staring at is the stomach contents of said elk. All the bones and gut pile are gone. Pretty wild, bear? Wolves?

Second day I get up early and head straight for the bowl I had looked over. I want to get up on the other side and look for sign near tree line. At 3 miles I cross a creek and start coming up the other side of the canyon. In the trees I start seeing fresh elk sign everywhere. The kind that sticks to your boot. I get my 300 WM ready and slowly creep on up. Right as I walk into this meadow I feel the wind change. Then I hear roaring coming from 50 yds away. I pull up my 44 mag in one hand, bear spray in the other, and slowly start backing up. Bear keeps roaring at me until the point where I'm 100yds away. It never came out of trees, just stayed where it was. At 200 yds I turn and book it away from there, get up a pretty nasty deadfall nightmare and down the other side.

Climb a point and glass over another basin while having lunch. I hear a tree crack and fall down and then a bull bugles! I make my way in that general area and come to within 100yds of him. Haggard looking 5x5 that wants nothing to do with anyone. Then I walk to another point over a meadow for the evening. At the top of the meadow I find two dead elk calf heads within a foot of each other. Their gut piles aren't that close so something has been dragging the heads. As I sit there I hear wolves start barking. What a day!

Just as shooting light ends I start to hike down. On my way to the campground I hear some grunting on the trail in front of me. I stop and see a bull, cow and calf moose sitting there. I start singing a song about how I don't want to be trampled and walk my way down while giving them a 100yds of breathing room.

I ended up meeting some Wy guys at the camp that were awesome. They set up camp on my second day. Really hit it off with them, it was awesome getting to hang out with them at the end of each day. They gave me some good guidance and ended up shooting my first elk. I was climbing up these rocks to get a better view of an area below me and a bull elk got spooked. He must have been napping 20 yds below me. He starts barking, but he cant see me because of the trees. I figure there must be some curious cows around. I scan around and see one at 250 yds looking around. Shot the elk at 2:30, got to the elk at 2:50, quartered by 4, and last load in the cooler by 9.

Would I do it again, you bet! Just put in for the same tag. Got home and gave my buddy back his 44 mag and noticed that I had carried that thing unloaded the whole time. Glad I doubled up my protection! Or triple I guess, if you count my 300WM.

 

[Triple BB]

One of my better stories happened year before last. Missed a decent whitetail buck. He took off running, I jacked another shell and shot as he was running into some tree's. Walked up and saw him lying there. I could immediately see his left antler was missing. I knew he had a left antler, so I started looking for it. Found it about 15' from the buck. The bullet it right at the base, but never touched the skull. First time I ever shot an animal without the bullet damaging something internal. When I cut the antler off, the top half of his brain was red. Brain hemorrhage from the shock...

 

[Scopebite65]

November of 2018, I had to put down my 13 y/o golden retriever. I had never had to deal with that situation and had no idea how emotional it would be. It was pretty darn devastating to be honest. The following day was a tough one to get through at work. My boss is the biggest dog person I know. We had a few tears that day then decided to head out to hunt the last evening of muzzleloader here in Virginia. It was a pretty cool afternoon and the deer were moving early. I had 25-30 deer in the field for the last hour of daylight. About 15 mintues before last shooting light, I saw this buck come out in the far end of the field chasing does everywhere. He would not stand still. Finally, almost 24 hours to the minute I said goodbye to Gracie, he stopped broadside at 75 yards. I made the shot and he expired in the field. The adrenaline was unbelievable, but when I put my hands on him, the dam broke and the tears flowed. My biggest buck came in that window? I feel the good Lord was putting His hand on my shoulder that day. A year later, I spread her ashes in front of that stand. A lot of emotion & closure revolved around that 24 hours. If I never have a better hunt, I am overpaid!

 

[FireFlyFishing]

Circa 2011.

I've lived all over the western US with my job and at the time I lived in Reno, NV. I drew a mule deer buck tag in the Ruby mountains and was pumped as drawing anything in NV is difficult.

Fortunately, my supervisor at the time supported me filling a tag and I was able to start planning. I looked over lots of maps (this was still the age prior to e-scouting), packed my gear and headed towards Elko.

I found a nice spot to set up camp and had fair weather. I arrived to my camp spot a day early to do some scouting and validate my maps. I decided I would hike straight up the mountain behind camp and head to a basin on the other side of the mountain.

So, on opening morning I did just that. When I got eyes on the basin, I realized I was in some big country and would have to do some serious hiking. I started my march down into the basin. After about a 1000 vert feet, I came across a buck! Yay! The wind must have been going uphill at the time, because he definitely heard me coming, but couldn't smell me. I didn't realize this at the time as I was still pretty green. I lucked out.

He was getting nervous and took a couple steps, stopped, and presented broadside. That was all I needed to get a bead on him and put one through the boiler maker from an off-hand position. He was ~120 yards down the hill. Bang flop! I was shooting a 160 grn Nosler Partition out of a 7 Mag. I let out quite the hoot!!!

Time to gut him. As I recall, I went with a traditional gut method that didn't yield any major difficulty. Because this was my first true pack out, I had NO IDEA what I was doing. I ended up sawing the animal in half and packing him out in stages in two pieces. Fortunately, I was in really good shape then so my lack of experience was doable.

It took me the entire day to get him back to camp. I was extremely tired as I had to sling him over my shoulders as I didn't have some fancy Mystery Ranch pack like I do now. No trekking poles, just young guy strength and determination.

I got him settled into some coolers and proceeded to crush some Whiskey!!!

The next day, I milked a hangover. The following day, I packed up camp and made the drive back to Reno and got him to a butcher…which turned out great!

I killed many deer in years prior to this. But…this was my first big game animal on public ground, by myself. What an immense sense of accomplishment!!!

While this wasn't as gritty as other stories here, it meant a lot to me!

 

[DakotaFire101]

So about ten years ago I was working full time running my own gusnmithing business. It was the last weekend of November which here in South Dakota is the last weekend of west river deer season. I had planned on making it out west for the final weekend which had historically for me always been my most successful time to hunt. Late Thursday afternoon I got a call from a great customer of mine who was leaving for a Texas hog hunt that weekend and his suppressor paperwork had finally came back approved that day. He wanted all of the guns he was taking on the trip threaded so he could use his new can. I told him I was planning on going out west and leaving in about an hour. He begged and pleaded and offered to pay me time and a half so I agreed. He dropped the guns off that night and I went to work right away. Getting three done that night and the final seven done the next day.
By the time I was finished it was late Friday evening, about 9 pm. I had given up my plans of hunting and decided to just hit the local dive bar instead as a young bachelor might be so inclined to do. My oldest uncle, who's only 14 years older than me, calls me and tells me that he's headed out to his little honey hole near gregory south dakota and wanted to know if I'd go. My tag was a special buck tag which meant it was good for any private land west of the Missouri, and since gregory was a lot closer than the place I was planning to go near Edgemont south dakota I jumped at the offer.

Fast forward to the following evening, where after we stopped at the gas station in town so my uncle could get himself a coke and a gas station egg roll, we were sitting in a box blind overlooking a beautiful mix of river bottom and crop ground. Through my binoculars I spotted what appeared to be a very nice whitetail poking in and out of the trees about half a mile away. As I was very confident in my new hot rod I had just built, a 28" barreled 28 nosler launching 180 grain berger hvlds, I set up to take a shot the next time the deer provided a broadside shot. That shot never came and the buck disappeared into the trees.
About that time the gas station egg rolls and my dear uncles stomach had an unfortunate disagreement. I could hear the gurgling and rumbling and figured the hunt was about to come to a muddy end. He looked at me, wide eyed and said in a panic "dude I have to sh@?" The there was a fence line with a plum thicket about 200 yards behind us and I requested that he make his deposit over there where I didn't think deer would notice him or catch the scent before I could see them. Well he flies out of the blind and down the 8 ft ladder and a second later I felt the blind shake as he used one of the posts of the blind as a back rest for his dirty deed. I guess making the fence line was out of the question. A few minutes later he returned to the blind missing the white t shirt he had on under his coat. I shook my head and figured that the hunt was for sure over now.
No longer than 5 minutes later a young doe appeared in the creek bottom we were overlooking and ran straight by us in a hurry. We didn't have time to make sense of it by the time we noticed the same buck from earlier trailing a few hundred yards behind. I set my rifle on the rest and took a few quick rangefinder readings for reference as the buck was quickly moving our way. Suddenly he caught the scent of something he didn't like and turned broadside with his tail fully up, he made two quick stomps, I flipped the safety off and fired, the buck didn't move. He acted confused, still searching the source of this horrid odor and now a sudden loud bang. Little did I know my uncle was about to try to take a shot when I fired again. This time I held to hit him right at the neck/shoulder junction. The buck folded like wet cardboard and celebrations ensued. I hit him both times, near as I could figure he was just too fired up to notice a bullet zip through his lungs. The buck wound up scoring 153" which is still to this day the biggest whitetail I've ever killed. We talked by my uncles impromptu toilet on our way to the deer, white t shirt crumpled up on top and all. We still reflect on that story today every time we're together. It's always the funny, unexpected things that make a hunt great for me.

 

[Sealesniper]

My best are always involving a novice or youth on their first hunt, or first harvest. When both of my daughters took their first deer, turkey, bear, swan, duck or small game. Then there were the hunts where they got their second, third.... and of course all the hunts with my dad, grand fathers, fishing trips, and the many, many other kids and friends I have had to honor to introduce to the outdoors.

As for my personal best hunt, I would say it would have to involve Africa. Maybe my lion hunt as that was hands down the most electrifying hunt as for most of the hunt, he was hunting me. We continued to find his tracks on top of my own. When it was all over, I was extremely emotional as a lifetime dream had occurred. To be in the presence of such an amazing animal, after 23 miles of tracking and hours and hours being at his level and in the thick brush, the feelings were overwhelming and indescribable. What I wrote in my daily log/diary of that hunt was finished with the phrase that the event would never be forgotten but the magnitude of the hunt could never be fully described to anyone who had not lived and experienced it, and this hunt was mine and mine alone to remember and cherish for my lifetime. I felt a huge connection to all the books and stories I had read in my youth of Hemmingway and Roosevelt as they pursued the big 5, and also my connection to "The maneaters of Tsavo", a book I continue to read once or twice a year.

 

[Reelamin]

So many over the years, and everyone involves family. Two are the most memorable.
Son fist year elk hunting (12) had a special draw big bull tag, and a big baseball tournament, and freaking practice except for the first three days. After the family fights I agreed I would have him at the game. (Maybe it payed off as he got a lot of his schooling paid to play ball.). We were hunting off horses and pretty much the only people in the canyon. Saw some solid bulls and a lot in the 300-310 range. We had some difficulty with getting off horses timely, tying them up, and other general mistakes stalking. Lots of elk so he figured it was in the bag. LOL....evening of day two we tracked a herd down into one of the thick timber holes. Horses can't go down in it, and you have to pack them back up to the top. I told him it would be pitch black coming out, and if he wanted go after them I did not want to hear one peep about cougars, monsters or he was tired. He said he promised he would not so we went in after them. Of course we found them and typical timber just could not get a shot. Finally a 2x3 stuck his head and neck out between two trees looking back at us. I told him there were bigger bulls and he said I dont care I want to shoot it. He had us nailed and and my son had to shoot off hand. He backed behind me, I bent hands on knees, and told him to use my shoulder, and shoot him in the middle of the neck. Boom flop I could see instant kill, but it dropped out of sight. He had a few deer at this point, asked if he got it, and I gave my standard YOU'RE GD RIGHT YOU DID HE'S DEAD. He instantly fist pumped and yelled F&*^%$G Aye as loud as he could. (That is our first kill yell). No more dad does the gutting and cutting he had done some deer before. Yes I helped and he did most of the work, and broke it down to quarters. With his flashlight in his mouth (no headlamps) and me with mine for most of it. Then two trips up and another back down in the dark. The absolute best part was we met them at the ball field, and everyone from his team and parents came over. He talked hunting, ran around with the antlers on his head, and the last thought in his mind was he had a tournament to play.
Daughter did not get a deer her first year out (8), and had to let several walk because they were not on our side of the boundary line. Wheat/CRP fields and dad knew where the invisible lines were. My biggest mistake was getting her ready a few times and talking her through when to shoot. The bucks would just walk near and never cross to the side she could shoot. The next year same exact location and the first buck we saw was walking towards us like before. Nice little farm mule buck 16" 4x3 on a bee line towards us. She asks "Dad is he going to do the same thing like last year, and of course I said not this time sister he will be one you can shoot. Sure enough he walked across the CRP, over the magic line, I grunted, he stopped and she nailed him front shoulder point and out the other side. He bolted humped up head down, and she forgot to reload only asking "Did I miss Dad", and before I could answer he piled up right on his face. Typical kid stuff "Did I get him, is he dead, did I do it right, will he get up" and after she reloaded and we just sat and watched she asked "He's dead isnt he dad". I said your GD right he is what do you do now? She jumped up fist pumped and yelled as loud as she could and yelled our first kill cry. This was a pretty easy one....she helped gut it, I backed the truck up to it and hung it in the shop to butcher.

 

[Trm82]

My biggest WT and the story behind him
Back in 2005 me and two buddies decided to go hunt on some public lands with our atv which you could not ride till noon.
So we drove around in the truck and hunted grouse till then and jumped on the bikes.
Our target was elk that day and we were in a great area to get one however the 35 mph winds were not in our favour.
We didn't expect there to be any action that day with the winds but we did not care it's just fun to be in the bush enjoying nature. We basically were just out for a quad ride at this point. We got on a oilfield road and I was in the lead and we were going into the hurricane winds so I had my head tipped down to keep my hat on.
We got to a spot where there was water in the ditch and I looked up and this buck was drinking the water and I don't believe he could hear us come in due to the wind so we surprised the sheet out him.
He took off running paralleling the road and I knew he was good and had seconds to react before he turned a hard right and would be gone forever.
I had a tikka t3 270 wsm with a bushnell elite 2.5-10 which I put up to my eye and the f-in thing was on 10 power and at less than 50 yards it was impossible to find him.
So I had a split second to get the scope zoomed down to lower power and get my shot.
With the scope adjusted I raised my rifle put it on hair and pulled the trigger as he disappeared into the bush.
Couldn't tell if I had him or not so we waited on the road for 15 minutes my buddy that was behind me tells me he was going to shoot it from behind me but he had a piece of crap Remington 783 I think it was and he had been handloading for it which he had no clue how to do and I think he damaged the bolt with a hot load and when he went to put a cartridge in the chamber The bolt pulled right out of the gun
Anyways the stars aligned that day and I got the biggest buck of my life after we waited 15 minutes we went in and he was dead within 15 yards of entering the bush
These were the days before smart phones so no field photos of him just memories and he's on my wall to stare at daily haha.
He scored 180 5/8".

 

[MtPockets]

November of 2018, I had to put down my 13 y/o golden retriever. I had never had to deal with that situation and had no idea how emotional it would be. It was pretty darn devastating to be honest. The following day was a tough one to get through at work. My boss is the biggest dog person I know. We had a few tears that day then decided to head out to hunt the last evening of muzzleloader here in Virginia. It was a pretty cool afternoon and the deer were moving early. I had 25-30 deer in the field for the last hour of daylight. About 15 mintues before last shooting light, I saw this buck come out in the far end of the field chasing does everywhere. He would not stand still. Finally, almost 24 hours to the minute I said goodbye to Gracie, he stopped broadside at 75 yards. I made the shot and he expired in the field. The adrenaline was unbelievable, but when I put my hands on him, the dam broke and the tears flowed. My biggest buck came in that window? I feel the good Lord was putting His hand on my shoulder that day. A year later, I spread her ashes in front of that stand. A lot of emotion & closure revolved around that 24 hours. If I never have a better hunt, I am overpaid!

Incredible story, thank you for sharing!

 

[Scopebite65]

Incredible story, thank you for sharing!

Appreciate it!

 

[hutchsc]

Tales above are such a joy to read and I've enjoyed them so much! Memories to carry for sure and thanks for sharing these great adventures.

A memorable moment for me occurred 5 years ago. I'm 67, and have been hunting for 10 years. Truly a newbee, comparatively speaking of course. I shot my first deer, a little guy, in November of 2014, at the age of 58. Over the next few years, I shot some spikes and does. Hoping to eventually encounter a buck with a decent rack of antlers, I plodded along with enthusiasm on the successes I'd had and the fun of being in the woods. In 2017, I'd purchased a TC muzzleloader so I could partake of that 10 day season as well. Shot a good sized doe with this gun from my climber in 2018. In 2019, early october, I'd hunted in a few locations up on some ridges I'd had success on, but the weather this time of year, different than most Octobers was cooking hot. On another part of the property I hunted is a creek. I decided to hunt the late part of the day at the creek, where water was available. I got my stuff I needed and hiked ~1/3 mile to the creek, climbed down the embankment (about a 15-18ft drop) to a small sandbar and set my 4 fiberglass poles, camo burlap around the poles and my chair, muzzleloader and shooting rest. The creek, normally 50-80 ft wide when regular water flow was running, is now 10-12' wide, and hence the sandbar availability. I had visibility up the creek of ~250yds. At about an hour before sunset, a doe came down the neighboring property embankment and moved through the creek towards the property I was hunting on. She was a good ways off and because of the curve in the creek, she was lost from view quickly. It sure was hot this day and sweat was trickling from my brow. Shortly after, a buck came down the same embankment and when he reached the creek, he layed down, with only his head and nice antlers above. I assume he and his lady had had a little fun and he needed to chill his belongings. I had my leupold, at max power trained on him. He was a nicely antlererd buck and I ranged the fallen tree right behind him at 153 yds. I waited, 5 minutes, 15 minutes, 25 minutes, for him to afford a possible shot. The crik in my neck was intense. Thirty five minutes after laying in the water, he rose and walked up on to the sandbar. He was broadside and shook the water from his coat, and, when he shook, I fired. There was no wind this day. The smoke from my muzzleloader hung in front of me like a curtain. I had no clue what happened. The smoke drifted away so I could see, in, I'm guessing 10-15 sec and I saw nothing but creek at this point. Still staring for a clue, all of a sudden, the buck popped up out of the water and went to the right towards my property, and with the curve in the creek, was now out of sight. Packed up my stuff, reloaded the smoke pole and headed down the creek. Where the creek curved and I'd last had a glimpse of him, I got there and found him about 20 yds from where he was shot. I was elated. My first well antlered buck, 7 point, 16" wide, not a monster but I was happy. Twas a good moment. The embankment was about 45 degree incline, maybe 25 ft long. Didn't think I could make the drag solo. Hopped a barbwire fence, walked back to my John Deere gator so I could make the trek around to pick him up. When I got to the gator, cows had surrounded it. I'd had an almost empty bag of corn in the bed and three cows had it directly in front of the machine, desperately trying to tear the bag open to get at the bit of corn left inside. I put my stuff in the gator, fired it up and thought, if one of these cows swallows that nylon bag, it is probably going to kill it. Owners of my hunting property would not be happy. I backed up the gator about ten feet and hit the gas headed at the cows. They scattered, dropping the bag. Was surprised how quick they were. Stupid me drove right over the bag and stopped, couldn't reach it. Backed up again. They came right back to the bag! I hit the gas again, they scattered and I turned hard to the right, reached down grabbed the bag. When I picked it up, it was fully covered in cow drool, joy, and I flung the dripping bag into the bed of the UTV. Wiped the slime off my hand and drove around the wooded section, bisected by the barbwire fence, got to the creek embankment where my buck was, snaked my winch cable thru the barbwire that lined the creek, and drug my buck where I could manage him. Whatta an adventure for this old man!

Good times to remember, keep dancing long as you can! Sorry if I got a little windy on this post

 

[std7mag]

Unsuccessful, but memorable.

So there i was.
About 5 years ago.
Hunting a gasline in Elk State Forest about 6 miles from Bennezette, PA.
Laying prone tucked into a pine tree looking through an opening in the limbs.
Creek bed about 200 yards downhill to my front, which then led to a fairly steep hill that topped off at 600 yards from me.
The hill not so steep behind me.

So there i am, watching when 2 does and a 4 point buck come out on the gasline by the creek.
PA has a point limit on bucks. Needs to be 3up including the brow tine on one side in the area i was hunting, so the buck was off limits.
I did have a doe permit for that area though, so i thought i'd fill the freezer with one of those.

Buck kept chasing the does. As soon as i'd settle the scope on one, he'd start chasing her.
This went on for several minutes.

Then, i hear noise behind me.

I slowly turn my head and couldn't believe what I was seeing!

A tall, skinny dude dressed up like an orange Keebler Elf!!

Orange material around his shoes.
Orange and white checkered pants.
An orange and white button up shirt.
An orange "dress up" vest.
And an orange Fedora with a white feather.


Of course, by the time I turn around, the deer are gone!!

Still can't get the image of that guy out of my head!!!