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Question by jeffo52284. Uploaded on June 09, 2009
When I was bow hunting in a climber and the climber gave way and fell about 20 feet to the ground. Just move to the next tree then later change my shorts!!!!!! LOL
should be " and change my shorts" LOL
Had a NYS trooper called on us for "shooting from the road, though we were more than 400 yards from the road. The lady whose property we were hunting next to didn't like hunters. Anyway the land owner also got called. So my friend and I were standing on the side of the road talking to the owner with a muzzleloader that was unloaded. The trooper showed up walked around the truck saw the gun and freaked out. He drew his weapon and started screaming. I thought I was going to be shot by one of NY's finest. We ended up not getting any tickets but two wounded deer were still in the woods and the lady would not let us go get then because they ran on her property.
Not a life threatening event, but did freak me out a bit. After I shot my first turkey, I ran out to get it and grabbed it by the leg. It then proceeded to flap and twist. When I get back to my blind, I noticed that my hand hurt pretty bad and when I took my glove off I found that the spur had gone through my glove, into the area between my first and middle finger and completely split the area open to the point I could see down into my hand. Took two trips to the emergency room (after the first doc just glued it and it got infected). Funny part was that the nurse said that was the second injury just like that she had seen that week. Scars are like tattoos but with better stories.
Nearly stepped on a 5 ft Eastern Diamonback while hunting in Florida's Ocala National Forest back in about 1966.
Hearing shotgun slugs clacking thru trees overhead while hunting in the southern tier of New York State.
Negligent discharge by a shooting companion behind me came too close to parting my hair. Haven't hunted with him since.
We were hunting rabbits. It was a snowy day and I cut some fresh tracks heading out into a field. We followed them and they went right under a bale of hay. I picked up the bale while two friends stood close by. The rabbit tore out right between us. One guy's 12 ga went off and kicked up the snow way too close to my toes. We called it a day after that.
Deflected bullets from a lost hunter trying to signal someone that went whizzing past my dad and me as we were sitting on the ground overlooking the swamp the person was wandering around in.
Negligent brother in-law who wanted to get in on the great duck hunting my brothers and I were having. I made him promise not to load the loaner double barrel 12ga until we were in the blind. As we were getting our guns out of the trunk in the dark, he slipped a couple of shells in the chambers and pulled both triggers simultaneously to see if the safety was on. It wasn't! Both barrels were about a foot from my head and aimed just about between my left ear and my head. One of them shaved hair off the side of my head but not a BB broke skin. Knocked me out for about five minutes and it seems I was so dizzy and disoriented for about 15 minutes that I just couldn't control my hands enough to choke him. A VERY CLOSE call! He said he never thought about the direction of the barrels and assumed it would be on safe. I have always been careful with novices but you have to watch them like a HAWK.
I had another one... I was stomping an 8 foot tall weed patch flushing pheasants. As I got about five yards from the end, a cottontail jumped and ran out in front of me straight for my brother who was blocking about 20 yards out in a cut bean field. The rabbit saw him, threw on the brakes and cut back into the weed patch running full blast right between my legs. I looked up into the barrel of my brother's 12 guage. To my surprise it went off, I recall seeing weeds fly and the blast from his full choke 4 magnums hit me right in the chest. It felt like someone had hit me in the chest with a baseball bat on a homerun swing. It picked me up off my feet and knocked me on my back. I thought I was done for for sure. I couldn't breath (lungs collapsed). I put my hand on my chest and it felt like ground bones (fortunately time would show it was just a lot of #4 BBs stuck in my sweat shirt). I held my hand up to look and it was glistening with that bright red blood you see in lung shots. I thought I was a goner. I kept gasping and then suddenly one lung inflated... then the other and I could breath again. Come to find out, my jacket and sweat shirts had stopped all the BBs except for one stray. That one went clean throuh my neck and poked a hole in an artery that was spashing blood on my chest. I was fine after all but it scared my brother real bad and it took him weeks to get over it.
For decades we have had a sort of feud with the neighboring land owner about driving rights and property lines and so forth. Well one year it got a little out of hand and the ladder to my grandfathers tree stand was partially sawn through. Not all the way through, as in an attempt to destroy the stand, but half way through as in an attempt to have it break while he was climbing and to injure him. Thankfully my grandfather is the kind of observant person who notices that sort of thing, had he not, it could have been very bad.
1982, I was having a bad year for hunting. Another morning shot, no deer seen from sunrise to noon. I got hungry and walked in uphill to the road and as my head got up enough to see the downside of the ridge another hunter on the opposite side in his tree stand had his rifle pointing right at my chest. Lucky for me he was an ethical hunter. I gave him a wave and double timed out.
I was late getting to my tree stand because of work and was in afoul mood anyways.I got to the stand, looked up and someone was sitting there. This is private land,mine,and I know personally all the guys who hunt here and none of us would ever use anothers stand without a call to o.k. it. As quietly as I could I got the guys attention and pointed to the stand and then to me. It was then that I noticed that he had a single bbl. shotgun and this was archery season. I motioned for him to come down and reluctantly he did. He walked over to me and said in a pretty low voice that I was ruining his hunting time. This is where I lost control by being a smart ass. I said "do you have permission to hunt here?" His answer was yes. I asked for his written permission, and I could see that he was very uncomfortable with the situation and that he was getting angry. Anybody with a brain would have just said, "this is my stand and my land please leave". Not me. I asked what he was hunting with a gun in archery season. He stepped back about 2 more feet and rotated the shotgun up in his right hand until the muzzle was at my waist level. He calmly said "I'll hunt any place that I xxxxxx want to hunt!" My bow felt like a canoe paddle. I said "your right. I should have left you alone and let you hunt. I'll find another spot." I turned and walk back down the path that I'd taken in. We didn't have cell phones then so as soon as I could get back to the homestead I called the local warden. He was on a call but would respond as soon as dispatch could get him. I waited about 40 minutes and two wardens showed up within minutes of each other. We walked back to the spot, but the guy was gone. I described him very well, I'd gotten a good look, but I never saw this man again. I'm trying to recall the year and it's around 84-85. I still feel like a fool for the way that I dealt with this guy.
You're one lucky boy to get out of that one!I had a guy from New Hampshire who was working on one of my crews with only one arm. He told us that his son had shot him by mistake during deer season. He was walking along slowly, looking around and the very next thing that he knew he was on the ground. He was very dazed, but said that he wasn't in tremendous pain. He thought that he'd walked into a tree. He started to prop himself off the ground and saw the blood and hanging right arm and he told us that was the last thing that he remember until the hospital.
Just last season a big Buck caught me when I was stalking in to look for him in the early hours. I figured that he was on his way to find his does, so over the next few hours I tried to get in front of him. I was paying so much attention to where he was going that I walked right in to a bunch of does that were eating. It was snowing hard ant they didn't pay attention to me, until out of nowhere (as always) a huge doe, bigger than the buck came charging at me and stopped about 10 feet away. Up here in Nova Scotia there is a Doe lottery and I had a doe tag... for the other side of the highway so I couldn't take her. She got a few feet closer and was stomping her front legs the whole time, even starting to get up on her back legs. I didn't take the rifle off her the whole time and we had a stare down for over 1/2 an hour. I didn't dare take her - unless she charged again, because all I could think of was scaring the buck off. In the end she took off and I never got the buck, maybe next year.
Got "hunted" by a LARGE tom Mtn. lion a couple of years ago.
I was hunting with a buddy and his 3 nephews(teens)for elk and we were "stalked" off the mtn by him.
Saw him the next night on the way into town.
I guess him to be in the 175/200lb range.
He ran in front of the truck(full size F-250) and he was tip of nose/tip of rump as long as hood is wide.
We (buddy and I) more worried about the "kids" than us.
It may not seem like much, buy it sure worried me. I was rabbit hunting with a friend. He had crossed a fence, and having heavy clothing on, I decided to walk on down the line. Trouble was there was a slight slough from a pond right up to the fence. It was shallow enough, and with water proof boots I was wading one second, and up to my crouch in mud the next! I thought I would never get out. I yelled to my friend, and all he could do was laugh his a** off. Every step I tried to take sank me deeper in the muck. I finally got out by crawling on my belly. My rifle and I were one mud caked mess. My friend is still laughing.
I forgot to mention that it was about 15 degrees outside, and snowing, when I had my waiding lesson.
Lets see, once I stepped directly on a 5 foot rattle snake while hunting at the tender age of 5. Another time I was charged by an angry sow but I shot it at 11 yards and it fell at my feet. Another time I was confronted by HUGE sow with twins who got frightened and climbed up the tree I was sitting under with the mother watching 10 yards away from the tree. It was shot. Ive had to wade after dead ducks in 30 degree temps without waders. Being caught in a blizzard in the negatives for not fun either since I was standing there for hours. Yep, Ive been in a lot of sticky situations. No Joke!
To meagel: No offense, but I ani'nt NEVER hunting with you ! (lol).
I was in my early teens. I went ice fishing for Brook Trout with my dad and my uncle in a new area we had never fished before. We wanted to fish the bottom of this waterfall. We got to the top and walked on the trail along the creek to see if we could get down to the bottom from that point. We realized that we couldn't so we turned around in our tracks to return to the snowmachines. I noticed something coming out of my uncle pack and took one step sideways to help put it back in. The ice gave way and I shouted as I went down. Ny dad grabbed one shoulder, my uncle turned around and grabbed the other shoulder and lifted me out of the water. I got wet up to my waist. A few minutes later, we were at the bottom of the falls fishing on over 12 inches of good, black ice. Got a fire going right away and I got dried out. We were about 45 minutes from camp by snowmachine, and I still cannot help but think what the result would have been had I been swept under the ice and gotten trapped in the waterfalls!
When I was back in my thirties, my passion was fox hunting and I'd had a great teacher. He taught me everything about this hunting activity and one of the items he told me about 500 times was about the harness on my snow shoes. They should never be fixed on the back and you should be able to free yourself from the shoe with one hand in case you fell through the ice. My shoes were always set up with a screen door spring on the back strap as my old friend suggested.
I was hunting on a bitter cold day in February and had shot one fox that I was holding on to by the rear legs as I crossed a small 5-6 acre isolated pond. My rifle was a Sako vixen in .243 with a Redfield 4x scope. The snow was quite deep but I knew the pond well and was sure of the location of the outlet. The outlet to this pond was to be avoided because it never froze up properly. I was stomping my way across when the snow under me gave away.I was way to close to the damn outlet! I went through like a stone and my snowshoes hit the bottom with only the top of my head out of the water. For some reason that escapes me now, I didn't panic. I bend down into the water and put my still gloved hand under the spring on the back of my left shoe and kicked it free. I had to go up to get more air and then did the same to the right side shoe. My rifle was hanging on the edge of the snow hole. I put my hands in the middle of the rifle and kept driving it down in the snow as hard as I could and finally I worked my way out of the water. At that point I don't remember being cold. I ran as hard as I could toward the only close road about 1 mile away. I knew a family that lived on this road and I took a path that I thought would get me there. About half way there I was totally frozen. I can never remember being colder. I forced myself to keep going and finally I came out to the road only about 70 yards from the farmhouse. I didn't think that I could make the buildings. I could hardly make my legs move! I did make the house and the farmer got me out of the clothes and up against the wood stove. He started rubbing my legs as hard as he could while I sat by the stove with a big wool blanket over me. My old friend had saved my life with his sound advice. I still wear the old knife that he gave me all those years ago.
I cut the throat on a big buck a friend had shot. Almost got stabbed through my back by an antler.
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