Amazing things you have seen.......

One winter night I was coon hunting with some friends in N.E. Ohio. We had a little snow on the ground and the temp was in the teens. We hunted for a hour or so and the dogs were on a hot track and then the dogs were barking treed. We went toward them and they were barking up this big tree at the edge of a big pond. We shined our headlamps up into the tree and found the coon but we couldn't get it to look at us and all we could see was its tail. Well I volunteer to wade into the pond in my hip boots and go to the other side of the tree to take a look and see if I can get a shot from that angle. I start my way around and it's thick and full of briars and vines. I'm only a inch or two from having freezing water go into my waders so I force my way in to the tree, plowing my way getting scratched all up and I finally get next to the tree and turn my headlamp up and not 12" from my face it this BIG Possum. Scared the crap out of me! Once I regained my composure I shot it in the head, back then a Large Prime Oppossum would bring 8-10 dollars. I then proceed to and finally find the coon and shoot it and it falls....right into the ice cold pond. One of the dogs jumps in after it....now I have disaster in the making...that coon will drown my dog.....I go after the dog to cut him off and keep him away from this coon, now I'm up to my chest in freezing cold water holding the dog by him collar and splashing water at the dying coon to keep him away from the dog and me. Finally the coon makes it to shore and dies. Well needless to say my hunting was done for the night.

While hunting wapiti one year in Colorado. I was hunting in this thick draw and was watching a group of deer making their way down the mountain on the other side and noticed a Bull Elk right behind them. He follows them all the way to the bottom, kind of like a Whitetail Buck pushing the does out in front of him. The deer would stop and that bull would come right up behind them the deer would start flipping their ears around, freaking out and nervous as could be. The bull wouldn't back off and the deer would take off again. The bull did this for 700-800 yards. Well once they came up the other side towards me they split up and the bull came right next to me, Yes! and I got him.

A High School friend and I were running a trapline on Conneaut Creek and had made some beaver sets 4-5 miles down the river, we also made a few muskrat/mink sets along the way and checked those each day as we worked our way along the way to the beaver sets. We usually made sets on this river on Friday and pulled them on Sunday as it was to much ground to cover on school days. One weekend we had a artic cold front move in and the temp. dropped to 10-20 below zero and with the wind it was 20-40 below zero. Well we had made it all the way down to the beaver sets and were happy to see we connected on a big blanket size beaver at a bank den set. We collected our beaver out of the 330 coniber, reset the trap and was checking out another area for bank dens and runs in order to place some more sets. While making our way around the tributary in our waders, breaking through the ice and kicking for bank dens, Jimmy fell into a deep bank den, all the way in up to his neck in freezing water...... I still can see his face and the fear that was on it! I pulled him up out of the water and he is starting into shock and his clothes are already freezing into ice as I start pulling off his outer layers, I get a couple of layers off and start a fire and as the fire grows, I help him take the rest of his clothes off. I take off a couple layers of my clothes and put them on him and hang his frozen clothes above the fire to thaw them out and try to dry them. He is finally able to make sense with his words but still his teeth are chattering like crazy. After a while his clothes dry enough so we get him dressed and start the long haul home, dragging that frozen beaver behind us. By the grace of God, my friend made it out alive.

A few years back I was stillhunting through some black timber and noticed a elk in front of me, moving away. I'm sure it didn't know I was there, so I let it get out of sight and then I quietly try to catch up with it. The wind was blowing right and I was gaining ground but I couldn't find it...then up ahead, I see movement but it's the wrong color...it's a bear, a big blackie who didn't know I was there...he was ripping some logs apart looking for some food and working his way toward me. I'm sure I could have stuck him if I had a tag. He kept coming, so I yell, "Hey Bear" and he stops and looks at me and then went back to eating, so I say "Hey Bear" he looks at me again and then goes back to eating. Then he slowly starts making his way toward me, I decide to back outta there and leave him be. He wasn't scared of me, at all. As I left, I did watch my back trail and kept a arrow knocked for several hundred yards, just in case he got stupid. He was a beautiful Jet Black bear, a color that's rare in this area. Most all of our bears are off color and most are dark chocolate brown. That was the first bear that I had encountered that had absolutely no fear of me.

Please add your own stories...........this could be fun

I gotta do a bit of thinking...

wow some of those stories are awsome

DOH!!! I just wrote down about a trip my brother and I spent with our grandparents as kids and it didn't take ](*,) I'll try to submit again at a later date.

Many, many moons back when I had just turned 13, my brother and I spent a couple of weeks up in the mountains with our grandparents. We were sleeping in the back of their Jeep Cherokee and would wake up through out the night just waiting for it to get light enough to go fishing. There was enough moonlight to see fairly decent and one of the many times we checked there was a 5 or 6 point bull that came right through the middle of camp. We were both amazed and pretty excited.

On the same trip, we were driving back up from town and ended up following a cow and her calf for about 2 or 3 miles. This was in June and my grandpa was really amazed as he'd never seen a calf that young. The "road" we were on was a back trail to get to where we were camping and was a bit steep on both sides. I guess mama wasn't too worried about us following behind and waited for a spot that her calf could make it off the road.

On the same trip, my grandpa had caught an 18" rainbow. Then me and my brother started catching some nice ones. One day I had a 17" and 17 1/2" on the stringer with my brother being skunked. I had a third one on the line and my brother had the net ready. As he put the net in the water and I was leading the fish to him, the log he was standing on started to move from out under his foot and he was on his way to doing the splits. He kicked off the log to push himself back toward land and in the process kicked it right into my line, thus breaking it. At the time, I swore he did it on purpose because he was jealous. Spent the next hour calling him every name a 13 year old could come up with. To this day, sometimes I think he did it on purpose. But only when he denies it :)) I think we ended up with about half a dozen rainbows between us from 16" to 19 1/2". The 19er I had caught and ended up getting it stuffed. We were coming back from the taxidermist when we saw the cow and calf.

Guess I could go on and on, but this trip was pretty special for both us and our grandparents. I could tell more stories but I'll let someone else step up to the plate.

EDIT: Just remebered the back page button! :thumb

ABert, Thanks! :thumb I'm sure Zatarain6 would never do such a thing... :))

Lets keep the stories coming, it's a long off season......

ABert, I also have had trouble with the reply timing me out too, when trying to post a long post. What I've learned to do, is copy it and if it doesn't take, I go back and paste it on a new reply.

Here's a crazy one for ya. It twas the night before the deer hunt and all was so quiet up on top of the ridge. Actually, I couldn't hear a thing because I was huffing and puffing so much. There was only about an hour of light left and it was one of the worst blizzards I had ever hiked in but hey, it was my last day to scout and I still wanted to check out one last spot. I had not been up this canyon that year but had hunted it in the past. Well I had just stopped to rest from bushwacking through the very thick and tall brush. I had kept my head down to keep the snow out of my face but when I looked uphill in front of me. There, about 50 feet away was a small tent covered with branches and well concealed. I could hear people talking but could not understand what they were saying. It was like a different language. I decided they must be hunters that had packed in for the next morning. So I decided to talk with them about where they were going to hunt that next day. The moment that I stepped forward towards the tent. There came a voice as plain as someone right beside me, telling me to leave this place NOW. I knew if I didn't follow the voice, I was surely going to be dead. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and I suddenly felt very, very cold. This is the first time I had truely felt terror run through my body. I slowly backed out of there and circled around this area and found a brand new gas powered pump near a stream, with a 2" line running uphill towards the area where the tent was. As I was leaving I could smell a very strong mildue or musky scent. I lived next door to a C.O. and went and told him my crazy story. I remember saying to him, you have got to believe me on this one. Those guys are up to no good and I think they will hurt someone if approached. Well, to make a long story short. He did go up there with a team of officers and busted them with over 1000 marijuana plants. Most of the plants were cut and drying on racks. So that was what I had smelled. He also said when these drug growers were first approached they had hand guns and knives drawn but then realized they were out maned and gave up or some of them ran off. That day truely felt like I was protected by our lord. [-o< [-o<

wow your lucky your not dead

ridgetop

WOW, that was an amazing story. 10sign:

I've got a good one also later.

A rather long story. This was the most forgettable, yet unforgettable hunt I have ever been on.

While stationed in California I was offered the opportunity to participate in a Blacktail hunt outside of Yreka CA with a buddy of mine, Joe, and his brother-in-law, Ben. Never one to turn down a hunting trip, I quickly “rogered up” and was soon on the long drive from Monterey to Yreka with Joe.
On the drive north Joe and I had plenty of time to chat about past hunts, what we liked and disliked, etc and I brought up the fact that I have a bit of a phobia about riding on the back of a bike, ATV, or anything else like them. I just don’t like the feeling of not being in control. This particular bit of information may not mean much now but you’ll soon find out why I brought this up.
The morning of the first day found us driving up a lonely back-country road littered with large, jagged chunks of shale, downed trees, and ruts as deep as my waist. About ½ mile from our drop-off point the first of many “incidents” occurred…we blew a tire! Well Ben, Joe, myself, and Ben’s friend “Buff” climbed out of the truck to assess the damage, replace the tire, and get on our way. It became evident rather quickly that because of where we blew the tire coupled with the rocks and ruts that I was the only one small enough to crawl under the truck to release the spare (I am 5’6” and 145 lbs and by FAR the smallest of the four). Always game, I shimmied under the truck and began to remove the spare from its “swing” while making pretty good time at it. However, once the tire released it dropped onto my chest, pinning me under the truck. Because I am not the strongest man in the world and the space under the truck was rather tight I could not get the tire off my chest. After a bit of laughter and good natured chiding, Joe and Ben grabbed my feet and proceeded to drag me out from under the truck. Well, if you’ve never been dragged over broken shale with a large spare tire on your chest then let me tell you….IT HURTS! Needless to say, while the other three replaced the flat tire I sat on the side of the road nursing my wounds.
Once on the road again it didn’t take long to get to our drop-off point overlooking a long, thickly covered canyon.
Excited to get moving and anticipating a great day of hunting I jumped from the rig, grabbed my pack and rifle, and headed down the canyon with Joe while Ben and Buff continued on to the other side of the ridge to make their approach from the opposite side. Knowing I “forgot” something but figuring it was just that feeling that we all get before we hit the hills Joe and I made our way down through the thick pines, scrub oak, and poison oak. As the day progressed it got HOT, with high temps nearing the 90 degree mark. After hiking for about 3 hours I reached into my pack to grab my water and realized “THAT’S WHAT I FORGOT!”. Of course, Joe was good enough to share his with me but by the time we reached the far end of the canyon 5 hours later we were both severely dehydrated. The plan was for Ben and Buff to hike down their respective side of the canyon until they reached Ben’s truck which we had strategically placed before we headed out that morning and he would drive up another small access road to pick Joe and me up. Joe and I were rather excited to see Ben’s truck coming up the canyon and chatted excitedly about getting some water from Ben when he arrived. When the truck reached us Joe and I made a bee-line to the cooler in the bed, opened it, and discovered that all Ben had in the cooler was BEER! Well, although I do not drink alcohol I made the decision that ANY cool liquid was better than none at all and quickly downed two bottles. Well, when you’re only 145 pounds, severely dehydrated, and haven’t drunk alcohol in 4 years even two bottles HIT YOU HARD! Needless to say, my hunting for the day was done since there was no way I was going to handle a firearm in my condition.
The next day promised to be a bit better with temps a bit lower and plenty of water in my pack.
The next morning Ben informed us that we were heading to his father’s place to hunt some land about ¼ mile away. He also informed us that we would ride quads into the hills to get to our hunting spot (Remember my phobia?!?!). I glanced quickly at Joe and he gave me a re-assuring nod that things were gonna be OK. Arriving at Ben’s dad’s place I quickly realized that there were only two quads which meant we’d be riding tandem and since I was not “family” that I would more than likely be riding shotgun. Again I looked at Joe and he said that I’d ride with him. He also stated that he was very experienced on quads growing up in Idaho and that I would be fine. Trusting my friend, I slung my rifle and climbed on back…still a little apprehensive but willing to give it a shot.
After riding for about a half hour we came to the base of a very steep hill and my heart began to beat about twice as fast as normal. With Ben and Buff already half way up the hill, Joe told me to hang on and began the accent. About half way up the “hill” the quad’s front end began to come up off the ground and Joe made his first mistake…he hit the brakes! Instantly I began to panic as the quad balanced on its two rear tires. I took a quick glance behind me and realized that the hill was much steeper than I thought and also realized that a roll down that hill was not going to be pleasant. I began screaming at Joe to get the front end down while at the same time he was screaming back to me to “bail off”. Heeding Joe’s screams I attempted to roll of the side of the quad but Joe, who was standing on the pegs, sat back and pinned my leg beneath him. As I screamed at Joe to get off my leg Joe made mistake number two…he gunned it! As he did so the quad vaulted skyward allowing me the opportunity to push straight back, freeing myself from the killer quad. Because of the steepness of the hill I flew a good 5 yards before landing squarely on my back, and on my trusty .270 which was slung on my back, in a pile of broken shale. I did about two backwards summersaults before jumping to my feet. Ignoring the pain, I glanced up the hill fully anticipating the quad to roll right over the top of me. I watched in horror as Joe and the quad flipped backwards and began cart wheeling down the hillside. Joe stopped after about two full rolls and the quad rolled over his leg as it tumbled down the hillside. I ran as quickly as I could to Joe thinking for sure that his leg was broken, dodging the quad as it rolled by me into a small ravine to my right. Reaching Joe I quickly realized that although his leg was not broken he would not be able to walk out. I also realized at that time that my back hurt BAD and that I had a few “scratches” that needed to be attended to. About that time Ben and Buff made their way back to us and together we made our way to the now slightly “bent up” quad in the ravine to see if we could get it started. After bending the handlebars back into a manageable position and removing a fender that was no longer serviceable we got the quad started again. Because neither Joe or I had much of a choice, we climbed back on for the trip back to the house.
On the way we decided to stop for a second and check our rifles in case they were damaged in the wreck. We quickly set up a target at 100 yards, I took careful aim, and squeezed off a shot. NOTHING! Although the gun fired fine, the target was clean. I took two more shots and still couldn’t come close to the target. I took a closer look at my .270 and realized that in the fall I had broken the scope mount and that the scope had a good quarter inch “waggle” in it. Yet another problem is an increasingly frustrating hunt.
The morning of the third day found Joe and I waking up extremely sore but still game. After nursing our wounds we met up with Ben and Buff and headed out yet again to try to fill our tags. About an hour after leaving town we arrived in a beautiful rolling valley that looked extremely promising.
Hiking along a western facing ridge I spotted a 3X3 feeding through a small field along with a single doe. Using a 30.06 that Ben had lent me after messing up my .270 I took careful aim on the buck’s chest and squeezed off a shot. The buck fell in his tracks! Needless to say I was very relieved that my hunt was pretty much over at this point. However, as we all know, no matter what you do you NEVER lose sight of what’s around you! After dropping the buck I emptied my rifle, put a fresh dip in, and took two steps toward the trail that would lead me to my buck when I felt something strike the top of my boot. To my horror, I looked down and spotted a rattlesnake that was none too happy that I was there! HE DIDN’T EVEN WARN ME! I instantly leapt what seemed like 10 feet in the air and began screaming like a little girl! I swear, I have never come so close to soiling myself than at that time! I ran about 10 yards up the trail and allowed the snake, who was probably rather amused at my antics, to clear the trail before I continued on the my buck (The guys asked why I didn’t kill it but most of you know me well enough to know that I would never kill any animal just for the sake of killing. After all, the snake was just defending itself and its territory). Thank god I was wearing high topped boots!
After field dressing my buck, Ben called his wife on the cell and arranged for her to meet him on an access road with a quad so that we could haul the deer out and then him and Joe began their hike to the road. As Buff and I relaxed in the shade awaiting Ben and Joe’s arrival we got a call on the radio that they were about 200 yards out. No more than two seconds later we heard two shots and then Ben screaming in the radio “Joe got a buck, Joe got a buck”. They weren’t even hunting at that point but had a nice 3X4 walk right into them and Joe’s aim was true. FINALLY, Joe and I had filled our tags and the hunt from heck was over…or so we thought!
After taking pics and loading both bucks into the trailer on back of the quad we headed for the road with Joe and me WALKING behind the quad where we thought we were safe. About an hour into the trip back we came to an extremely steep hill with no way around it. Ben volunteered to take the quad and the trailer up the hill and we would meet him at the top. Ben prepped the quad and trailer and began his climb to the top. In the meantime Buff had begun to walk up the hill and was about half way up when Ben came roaring by him. Thank god Buff was there too because as Ben sped by him the quad AGAIN began to come up off the ground. The steepness of the hill coupled with the weight of the trailer had caused the quad to begin to tip back and even with Ben leaning WAY OVER the front end, there was no stopping it. At that moment Buff, who himself weighed about 250 lbs, flew through the brush and like Superman himself dove onto the front of the quad, forcing the front end into the dirt and road it that way the rest of the way up the hill! I had never, and have yet to see a man that size move that fast. I swear he has a future in the NFL!
With one more hill to go we assumed we were home free. However, as with the rest of the hunt…never assume ANYTHING! As Ben took the quad up the remaining hill Joe and I stood at the bottom watching the climb. About half way up the trailer broke free of the quad and came screaming back down the hill, right at Joe and I. With eyes wide with fright, Joe and I scrambled for our lives as the trailer came flying by us, smashing into a tree that just two seconds ago was directly behind Joe and me. The trailer hit the tree with such force that both bucks came flying out of the trailer, cart wheeling through the air before landing in the buck brush at the bottom of the hill. In the wreck, both of my buck’s antlers were caught in the mesh of the trailer, snapping them like twigs! Well, after retrieving the deer from the brush we placed them back into the trailer, reattached the trailer to the quad, and made it the rest of the way out without incident.
Although I love hunting and will always take the good with the bad, this particular hunt really tested my resolve. I have never liked quads/ATVs while hunting and this particular hunt sure solidified that stance (The biggest reason I don’t like them is that they tear up the land, cause way to much noise, etc but when I’m a guest I don’t really have much say in how we hunt). However, I have been out there every year since and will continue to do so until my body no longer allows me to. With that being said, one more hunt like this one and my body may revolt!

thats why the second guy rides on the FRONT rack when you are in steep terrain,if the quad starts to wheelie when u r on front slide off and pull the front down.And kill those damn rattlers so the next guy doesnt get bit!Sounds like a "fun" trip!

Points well taken my friend!!!!!!

Fun....yea, I guess you could CALL it that.

sounds pretty fun.lol. except for the demonic 4 wheeler, grumpy rattler, landing in a big pile of shale 5 yards down, getting squished by a spare tire, having a fourwheeler trailer chase ya down. but besides that it sounds pretty fun. did i miss anything.lol

AGCHAWK, Great story! =D> That sounded like the hunting trip from hades. I'm glad you and Joe got your bucks, Congrats.
You know what gets me? Is we have hunting trips like this and we still are so excited about opening day, we have trouble sleeping. I think we need psychological help. (???)
Disney needs to tell the whole story about hunting.

LOL....hiker, I thought the same thing. I can NEVER sleep the night before opening day regardless of what the hunt may hold for me. I guess that's why they call it an addiction! No matter what happens, we always come back for more!

AGCHAWK, great story, though perhaps not the greatest hunt. It is amazing the things that don't go well for us while we're out there hunting, yet we always can't wait to do it all again.

This story is second hand but here it is anyway. Me and Idhunter were archery hunting the Wasatch Front a few years ago and it was about mid afternoon. We were at the top of a canyon and decided to still hunt down to the bottom, where there was a trail that lead back to the car. Well Paul had got to the bottom before I did and was waiting for me to meet up with him. While he was waiting, two men came walking down the trail completely naked. When I first heard this, I thought it was very funny but then I remembered that less than two weeks earlier I had hiked that same trail with my six year old daughter. Then I was a little more than upset with the thought of her seeing something like that. :nono: Please not on public trails. :>/

uh---- and thats why I always carry a rubber blunt in my qwiver!!!!!!!!!! :arrow :arrow

Great stories..... :thumb

Anymore? It's a long offseason.

We were out on the prarie a couple years back when my uncle spotted a wolf chasing a doe WT about 1 1/2 miles away,they turned and the wolf chased the doe within 80 yards and my uncle dropped it,that wolf turned tail and hauled ass for about 50 miles,probably the only deer killed after it was rounded up by a wolf!

wow those are some good storys

Anymore good stories? :-k

I got many stories, the vast majority are great times. One bad time that comes to mind this morning. I spent 2 days stuck in MT gumbo, bad STUCK!
It was mid Sept, by myself in the Bitter Creek Country. The 2 tracks had been decent traveling but low spots had water/gumbo. I was doing alright going around the bad spots. Then I came up over this steep hill, gunned the truck to keep up speed and on the other side my tires got in ruts. I knew I couldn't stop so I hit the accelerator. The gumbo was to wide and deep, I made it to the middle. Where I was at was about 30 miles North of the Highway. no ranches. Although I always carry a shovel and gave it a try it was impossible shoveling the stuff, to wet. Well I spent the night, planning to hike out next day. This is open range cattle country and theses 2 tracks are used by ranchers tending cattle, next morning I decided to wait, the trail I was on looked like it was maybe traveled once a day or so. Nothing happened the that day, or the next, I would start walking early morning as the weather was very hot. At about 4 am I took off, flashlight, daypack, lots of water, and two black labs. I had all my gear in the truck and decided to leave the keys on the dash and unlocked.
I had walked about 2 miles and I saw headlights, long way off then they disappeared behind the hills. anyway the lights appeared a few minutes later and closer they were on my trail [-o< [-o< Well I was happy to see them, a couple hunters from Billings. Told them my predicament. Not knowing if I should ask for help or a ride to the highway, I asked if they knew what was to the East or West and how far to the next roads? One thing led to another and we were back to my truck. They scratched their heads, sad your BAD STUCK. They had a couple lengths of chain along hooked me up, put that big diesel in low range and sucked me right out of there.
I was very grateful, tried to give them cash, no way would they take it. All they said was, we all get stuck, carry chain, when you see a Montana guy stuck, pull em out, might be me and off they went.

This was back in the days before cell phones, even though there is no service up there. But since that time I have pulled a couple trucks out of the gumbo. I always carry a chain. :thumb

Been there Wayne,we got a trailer with 4 wheelers on it stuck so bad up in the CMR we took the wheelers off and came back for it the next week.We even built a kind of plow blade device that you can pound into the ground to use as a winch anchor point for that country,it has worked well a couple times.

Last fall I was sitting in a tree stand deer hunting at the edge of a hard wood forest overlooking a hay meadow watching 4 jake turkeys work their way across the meadow. About mid field the birds stopped raised their heads in a alert manner and took off on a dead run.

I was looking everywhere across the meadow looking for a coyote or bobcat and could see nothing and couldn't figure it out. Then something caught my eye from above. Wings retracted and tucked in in full dive like a rocket was a bald eagle bearing down on the birds. The eagle hit the middle of the flock and a frantic chorus of gobbles rang out as feathers flew like a pillow had exploded.

When the dust settled the eagle had missed his mark and the turkeys retreated under a hedge tree. The eagle landed about 40 yards away and kept those birds huddled under that tree for about 30 minutes before deciding the gig was up and flying off.

Man, I wish I had a video camara running.

Wow agchawk that is quite the story. If that hunt would have been much longer you guys may not have made it out a live!

Great stories, guys. Here's one:
Back when I was a kid, young enough that I can't remember it, we were campin on a deer huntin trip here in California. My dad stepped out of the camper one morning and almost stepped on a doe that had been sleeping at the step of our trailer! But the deer didn't run off, it just stood up and hung out around camp. My grandpa named it Sabrina and it would let people pet it and feed it. It was crazy, considering it was out in the middle of nowhere, not tamed because it lived by a bunch of houses. Here's the best part: Several years later, my dad and grandpa are deer hunting close to where "Sabrina" had been several years before. As they're drivin along, my grandpa yells "Sabrina!" and jumps out of the truck while it's still rolling and runs after this doe. Sure enough, it was Sabrina. Somehow, he saw her and knew it was her, even though she had no tags or anything on her. My dad figured he was just bein funny and it turned out to be the right deer! With as few deer as there are in California, what are the odds of pickin the right doe out randomly several years after you saw it?

i must have missed this post, AGC that sounds like the hunt from the dark side for sure!! i can see the new reason for not likeing ATV's since then! i really dont care for them at all for hunting either. i do usually load up my dads 4x4 quad before i leave just in case i need it to retreive game. but in about 4 yrs i've never even unloaded it! anything i've killed i was a ways in anyways and where i could not us it so i just kept packing it out all the way to the truck on my frame pack. they are the most ABUSED tool by hunters these days, or i should say "so called hunters" there is a place for them. but using them for 99% of your hunt is not the place for them!!!