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Posted on 08/21/2008 5:24:43 AM PDT by Pistolshot
Free Republic Gun Club – Thursday – Hunting stories.
A little off the wall topic today. Most of us who have hunted over the years have a lot of humorous and interesting stories about adventures we have had.
Time to share them.
One of mine and the one I tell most people is about the time I took a co-worker white-tail hunting in Texas. Now, most of you whitetail hunters out there can attest to how skiddish and supremely paranoid whitetails are. One twig break, and ZOOM, they are gone, and I mean GONE.
My co-worker, who had never been hunting before, was curious about what it was like and asked if he could tag along. I knew he was a good shooter from all the quail and dove we had taken the past season. That year there was a 2 buck/1 doe tag. Texas whitetails aren't very big and you need a couple to fill a freezer, and that year, they were in abundance. Which meant a LOT of meat IF you could get the shots.
We went to a lease area I knew of where the game was plenty and the hunting tough.
I leant my friend a Marlin 30-30 with a fixed 4X scope mounted to it. Driving onto the lease area I parked the truck in the middle of a cornfield that still had stalks. Mesquite was in abundance to the left and the right, and promised some good hunting. I wanted my friend to get the full affect of being in the woods alone hunting a game animal so we split up. I went north of the cornfield and would hunt that way, while he went south and hunted in that direction.
The cornfield was pretty long and it would take 5-10 minutes for me to get where the mesquite was thicker. As I walked along putting rounds into the rifle I heard the tell tale sound of shooting.
BOOM.
BOOM-BOOM.
My first thought was…”What the hell is he shooting at?” So, I decided to walk back and see if there was trouble of some sort.
Rounding the end of the cornfield, I came upon something I had never seen before in all my years of up and down valleys hunting elk, mulies, blacktails, whitetails.
Two deer, horns locked in combat, dead on the ground.
I walked up to my friend and said “What the heck happened?”
”I loaded the rifle as I walked like you told me, and when I rounded the corner of the cornfield they were there fighting.” He said. “So I shot both of them.”
A pause.
“Is it always this easy?”
I just unloaded the rifle sat down and cried. NEVER had I seen beginners luck like that.
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Did you get a white tail that day?
Nope, we gutted and quartered those two and went home. I was shaking my head the whole way. In fact, I didn’t go out again that whole season.
At least you had the whole rest of the day to do something else.
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He handed me a medium-sized duck with an iridescent green and chestnut colored head, gray body and large feathers coming off the wings close to the body. I certainly had never seen a duck like it before, so I dug out my picture book of Waterfowl of the World and identified it as a falcated duck (Anas falcata).
The only problem was that this species of duck is native to eastern Asia and breeds in Siberia and China. WTF was it doing in South America, east of the Andes?
After I got back to the US, I contacted the US Fish and Wildlife Service, Ducks Unlimited's office in Memphis, and the Wildlife Department at Louisiana State University. No one really could conceive that this duck had flown across the Pacific and the Andes mountains and taken up residence in Buenos Aires province, Argentina. They all concluded that the bird had been raised in captivity from an egg and escaped. Nevertheless, it was the first report of a wild Falcated duck ever in Argentina.
In case anyone thinks this is just a BS hunting story, here's the actual duck mounted on the wall of my living room:
Ain't it the truth!
The daughter of a good friend went hunting for the first time with her fiance. She was carrying a .243, but had never fired anything larger than a .22. She fell asleep in the stand, and when she awoke a 10 point buck was in the middle of the greenfield. One shot brought down the prettiest 10 pointer I've ever seen.
Needless to say my friend has been howling with laughter about this for three years. Hunter's go their entire lives without bagging a trophy like that. It's enough to make a grown man cry!
,,
Shot-In-Freud ??....LOL...
Well, I have a few, but I'm sure that they pale in comparison to the experiences of many here.
May I leave out the story, and go right to the moral of? It's a great idea to put rope restraints in tree stands.
And that's all I'm going to say about that.
5.56mm
last year I only went out once, behind a buddies property, AAAAAALLLLLLLL day and went to regroup with said bud, when I saw a pretty doewatching me...I raised the shotgun and drew a bead before noticing the collar on her neck...
my friends wild 'pet' deer that he found as a babe and frequently comes by his place to visit...often times showing off her new kids and sometimes chasing his dogs around the yard and playing...
I took my friend John wild hog hunting near my home in NE Texas a couple of years ago where I knew the hogs had been rooting. We sat there for 30-40 minutes and I caught some movement in the edge of the field. 5 BIG hogs entered the field and began to feed so we set up for a double. Just as we were about to shoot 4 White Tail does came in from our left. The hogs saw them and went on high alert, (they had no idea we were in the same zip code), when they alerted the does spooked, that in turn spooked the hogs and in 2 seconds the field was empty and we were wondering what the heck just happend! We looked at each other in amazement and then laughted all the way back to the truck.
It’s larger than a teal. More the size of gadwall.
Around noon it began sleeting, and I settled myself under a rather large red cedar tree to get out of the elements.
As I sat there, cradling my shotgun across my lap, I fell sound asleep.
Now, I was wearing a triple x beaver hat, (much like a DI's hat, but dark blue in color) and when I awoke I saw small icicles on the brim of the hat.
Not realizing what it was that I was seeing, a mere 4-5" from my nose, I jumped up with a start.
Not more than tewnty feet away from me two bucks were standing.
When I jumped up they spooked and ran across my front from left to right.
I recovered in time to get the second buck with a shot to the right shoulder.
I'd rather be lucky than good anytime.
ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒE
Way up North in Wisconsin, or Nort as they say, we drove to a place and settled down in some brush that split two empty corn fields. It was winter and it was about 25 degrees with no wind.
He sat down leaning against a tree to my left and behind me as I sat on my little stool with an arrow nocked and ready to draw. Just before dusk I noticed there were two bucks leading a group of doe's coming toward us diagonally across the field. I was still as a stone because the bucks were checking out the field.
Well just as one of the prize bucks, about 3 years old, was coming within about 45 yards, my brother-in-law yelled, “Oh Shite”. At that millisecond the bucks took off along with the rest of the group and I turned to him and saw a squirrel jump off of his shoulder on to the tree next to him in a panic.
The squirrel jumped on him thinking he was part of the tree. At first I was disappointed because I had an incredible chance to get a big one. Then I laughed at him when he said it scared the living crap out of him because he though the squirrel was going for his face.
We all met up a few hours latter and he brought us out to help carry his deer. We found one buck and two does within 15 feet of each other.
He shot a doe, the buck came running up to see what was going on and after the buck was shot another doe came running up to see what was going on.
I was still hunting a draw when I came upon a 'hunter' leaning against a tree. At first I thought he was asleep. Then I noticed the empty brandy bottle at his feet.
Here he was passed out drunk with a rifle in his hand, finger on the trigger, safety in the "OFF" position. I made sure I was behind him, and tried to gently wake him. No luck. Then I got more agressive and started to shout at him. Nothing.
So I took the rifle out of his hands and checked it. Sure as hell, there was a round in the chamber. It was a nice rifle, btw, a Weatherby in 7MM Mag.
Yea, I thought about it, but a stolen firearm is a Felony.
So I did the next best thing. I unloaded the rifle and put the cartridges right next to Sleeping Beauty. Then I put the barrel in the crook of a tree, grabbed the stock, and pulled really really hard.
I managed to bend the barrel nearly 45 degrees.
Then I gently laid the rifle in his lap and walked quietly away.
I would have paid good money to see the look on his face when he finally woke up.
L
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