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Question by Del in KS. Uploaded on April 29, 2009
I don't have any super-duper ones, yet, but my dad sure does. He was lowering his gun down by the rope and looking all around to make sure a deer didn't sneak up on him. Then he looked down to see how much further he had to go and he had lowered his gun in between the rack of a nice 8 pt!!! The deer never saw anything but used that 6th sense and walked away before dad could get the gun pulled back up.
I bought my dad and myself 50. cal muzzle loaders for christmas a few years ago. Naturaly we both wanted to try them out right after breakfast, so we walked out to the shooting bench in our hay field. After about an hour of constant shooting two spikes walked out of the woods to our right and crossed the field about 50 yards from us... while we were both unloaded.
Ahhhh...my first buck. I had just turned 14 and it was my first time hunting alone. I set up in a hollow and looked straight into the hollow and saw a massive rack. so i stalked down and found a different,lesser 8pt, since the other took off. so before i noticed the 8pt i saw a doe and was just looking to put meat on the table so i scoped up on it. well she looked over her shoulder and i followed her eyes right to the first buck. i shot the 8 pt. 17inch spread.
One of the most interesting fishing stories I've heard took place several years ago. A friend of mine was going to Florida, with several of his buddies fishing for large bass. Most of them were using live bait,golden shiners.
It seems, a couple of the guys who were in different bass boats, hooked up on the water, for a midday break and lunch.Just as they were finishing up, one of the guys tosses a golden shiner into the crystal clear water, and watched his shiner try to swim back to the boat.
Two large bass attack the shiner simultaneously, with the smaller one, a five and a half pounder getting to it first.The bass swallowed the shiner, but in the rush, the shiner came back through the gills of the smaller fish. The larger bass, an eight and a half pound toad, sees the shiner and gulps it down.
Two bass, over thirteen pounds on one pole!
I know. I know. Sounds preposterous. But, they took pictures and you could see the line in the water with two bass attached.
My grandad and I were walking around the point of a draw deer hunting. He stopped and shot a real nice 10 point. As soon as it hit the ground it stood back up so he shot it again. When we walked down to where the buck was we found 2 almost identical deer. It was interesting explaining that to the game warden but he got us another tag and let us keep them both!
Just walked into my office and turned on this infernal machine. Have meetings most of today, but will try to get something interesting out later.
mauled by a leopard
charge by a three legged lioness
killing a buffalo previously wounded by a poachers bullet made from a truck battery terminal
or how about 60 inch Marco Polo ram on my 60th birthday in a snow storm at 17000 feet
trapped by flood waters on a small ledge for a week, then killing a nice Dall ram
while tracking a Lord Derby Eland, surprising Sudanese terrorists with machine guns and rocket launchers chopping tusks out of a cow elephant
Naw............I'll think of something interesting
Well that's pretty dang hard to follow....
My most memorable:
Texas deer/turkey season when I was 13.
Decided to post up on a train tressel where deer were frequently traveling. Was early in the morning and like most hunters took a little snooze.....
Woke up to GOBBLE GOBBLE! About 20 yrds from me were 3 gobbles 3 hens just minding their own business. All I had was my .243 fully loaded. I unloaded! Mind you it was about 0730 so it was PRIME deer time. Dropped the 3 gobblers. Picked them up and walked 2 miles back to camp because I was outta ammo. I get back to camp to see 3 trucks coming around the bend with our other lease holder really PO'd thinking I was bored and started target shooting. Needless to say they were the ones cleaning the birds that afternoon!
November-Michigan-light rain-shotgun for deer
Just got done taking a "steamer" in the woods and walked the 10yrds back to my brush blind. Sat down and had that "6th sense" I was being watched. Looked over my shoulder and about 5 yrds from where I just used the bathroom was a HUGE doe and her yearling. I had to turn 180', grab the gun, draw down all while she was about 10yrds away. I slowely managed to turn around and get the gun. The BB site was about her front knee before she spotted me and bolted. And bolted to where all I saw was her backside :(
Morale of the story: Always take a dump in privacy because you never know who is watching you!
If Happy is going to come out into the yard with some of his African adventures I'll just stay under the porch...
Please don't. That is embarassing, I wasn't trying to run anyone off. Hell, I have heard my stories, I'm more interested in yours. One time a friend questioned the veracity of my tales, I assured him that most of them were true, and invited him along for a pack train elk hunt. We ended up coming out in a blizzard, with me breaking trail on snow shoes, the wheels fell off of everything. We did get elk.
My friend said it was the best adventure he ever had, but not to invite him again.
I guess I'm a bit of a lightening rod.
Got to run
Hey guys there's room here for everyone to tell their stories. Just imagine we are sitting around a campfire under 100 ft Spruce trees in Ak drinking spiked coffee. The meatpole is full there are horns hanging in a tree. the night is pitch black and it's misting rain but Del put a tarp over a big tree limb to keep the rain off. Which story would you tell?
Happy, I'd love to hear more about the 3-legged lioness attack. LOL
Happy I would love to hear all those stories and Beekeeper's stories too.
Lightening strikes twice, or I need all the help I can.
A couple of years ago, I spent 21 days in the Central African Republic. A capricious Air France employee decided to forbid me from taking my rifles. I shrugged it off, well, that's probably not quite true, but I went without them.
Arriving in camp, I borrowed a disreputable looking 375 M70 of ancient vintage and a hand full of cartridges of various weights and manufactures, and proceeded to have one of my most successful trips. 14 animals, which in that part of the world is a heck of a trip.
One animal which eluded me was a Western Roan. The morning I left camp to meet my air charter at a red dirt strip cut in the middle of the bush there was a tapping on the roof by a tracker, low and behold there stood a fantastic Roan Antelope a few hundred yards away. Normally rifles would be locked in my travel case, but the rifle I had borrowed was hanging where it belonged behind the driver. We put a stalk on the antelope and it dropped to the shot. We discovered the animal was blind on our side was lame in the shoulder.
A few months later, I was hunting Desert Mule Deer in Sonora, Mexico. Again, the last day of the hunt we put a sneak on a huge buck, but he took off through the Mesquite after spotting us. He stopped in a small opening for a split second and looked back at us awkwardly. I shot off hand, and down he went, don't know who was more surprised, myself or the guide. This animal was also blind in the eye on our side and lame and infected from battle with another buck. He had no hair along his shoulders from fighting for females.
Luck comes in strange forms,but I'll it and admit to it
Last line should read I'll take it, and admit to it
Will do the three legged lioness later, got work to do
OK Del and Happy, he goes one from the southern swamps!
I was 19 at the time and thought I was ten feet tall and bullet proof. It was early spring and I had taken my Jon boat complete with an old beat up outboard up river before dawn. My mission was a scouting trip for turkey. The plan was to stop at gobbling time and drift back down river and listen for gobblers, marking the locations on a topo map. I had taken a shotgun along as it was legal to hunt feral hogs on the WMA along the river. The catch was you had to use #2 shot or smaller. It was one of those rules that bureaucrats create to hinder and discourage rather than promote...
I had bought a box of Peters 12 GA 3 3/4 - 1 1/4 - #2's and tested them through my guns modified choke. At 25 yards the loads blasted a ragged hole through a piece of scrap 1/2 plywood. After my research I was convinced that if I got into bow range a hog would be mine. As they say, famous last words, or in modern redneck parlance, "hey, ya'll watch this..."
After drifting a couple of bends and hearing a bird gobble I heard something even more appealing, the loud squealing of several feral swine! I carefully beached my boat on a small sandbar downstream and down wind I might add. After shoving 3 of those lovely blue shells into my 12 gauge I began to stalk the hogs as if I was Ruark or Hathaway (never mind that I didn't know Hathaway was some what of a yarn spinner at the time).
The hogs remained vocal and with the dampness of early morning the stalking was easy. I soon slipped up on a small herd of swine rooting in a stand of river cane. Bits and pieces of pork were visible here and there, the thick, musky, urine like smell of "hog" hanging in the cool air. Small grunts and squeals continued to come forth as I followed about 20 or so yards behind waiting for a clean head shot.
After about 15 minutes of "following", my chance came in the form of a large spotted gilt which I guessed to weigh about 60-70 pounds, just right for BBQ! At the shot she hit the ground dead as a hammer. What I didn't expect was that the entire herd would spook and come right back down the old slough running right at me!
All would probably have been well if I had just side stepped the fleeing pork parade, but... remember I was 19... I just couldn't resist putting two loads into a moderate sized boar with a good set of teeth. On the report of the second shot the boar hog hit the ground only to get up and run along behind the rest. The range at the shot had been less than 10 yards. Without the added adrenalin from the scare the 2 loads of big shot would probably have been plenty for the situation. The first shot took him at the base of the neck angling into the front of the shoulder the other, square in the shield from the side. Having been well taught about the folly of following up too quick on a wild hog, I decided to dress out the gilt and get her to my boat, and then I would deal with the boar.
The ensuing events took about 30 minutes, a quick wash up in the river along with some country well water and I was ready to go get my boar. I picked up the collective trail at the point of the shooting, the two indigo blue hulls closely marking the spot. After following about 30 yards I began to pick up blood and mucous then a small bit of bone. The blood began to get heavy and it was full of bubbles, a good sign the #2's had made it to the lungs. I had stayed on the trail for almost 300 yards when the hogs crossed a slough full of water. I could plainly see the water on the the far side bank where they had exited. I waded off into the cold water and got up to my chest before coming out on the other side where I could make out the pinkness of watered down blood. I continued to trail the hogs more by dripping water than anything else. After about 100 yards I noticed that a set of tracks had split off to the side and headed away from the trail the rest were following, a spot of clotted blood about the size of a match head told me this was my boar.
About 60 yards away was a blow down fresh from a spring storm, the top of the short leaf pine providing thick cover. A twitching branch told me my boy was now holed up waiting for death or his persecutor, which ever got there first.
This is where being 19 and the "hey, ya'll watch this," came into play. I figured the boar was down and about out of gas, so I stood where I was and decided to wait for a few minutes... A few minutes passed, I was bored and cold and young and wanted all this to end, so I began a slow, edgy stalk toward the branch I had seen moving a few moments before. At ten yards he came for me, an explosion of pine boughs and black bristles. The first round broke his left shoulder at 8 long steps; the second broke the right at 5, the last centered between his eyes as he skidded to a stop at my feet.
I learned some valuable lessons that March morning…
That's a great story. I never liked water up to my neck, I'm not very tall.
My turn to crawl under the porch. Thank"s for the story.
I enjoyed yours also. I wonder just how many hunters have been afforded an opportunity to take a grand old animal by both fate and infirmity? Maybe that is the way it should be...
I hope we all can sit around that camp fire and partake of a little "Irish" coffee some evening and enjoy a few more tales.
Get that work done. We are still waiting for the 3 legged lion story!
You understand. Both of the trophies time had come, and that was at should be. Hope that is the way for me some day.
Great stories both!! Now just keep 'em coming. Anybody else want to jump in?
There are folks that probably don't know what shields are. A boar hog has very thick tough gristle like skin over his shoulders for protection from the tusks of other boars. I have seen them stop 00 buckshot at 40 yds.
The three legged lioness
I promised I'd write this, and it is not easy.
Must be forty years ago in Zambia, probably in Mulobezi or Schifulo,don't recall which,it was a 42 day hunt, and winding down. The government was in turmoil, which made the trip affordable for me. We had noticed strange tracks around a couple of leopard baits by a lioness which had puzzled us. A few days later an Elder from the local village approached us concerned about a lioness who was watching their village and seemed to be hungry.
The government scout declared we had to stop hunting and take care of the situation. Luckily we found her single track near one of our baits and eventually spotted her laboring along in some tall grass. It turned out she had lost a paw in a poachers snare, it was not infected but she could not hunt, and was skin and bones.
The poor animal went behind some medium grass behind an old low termite mound. She was 200 yards away. Her head reappeared through the grass on the low mound. The government scout ordered me to shoot since she was already crippled. I fired my 338 and she died.
we walked forward the boys with their axes at port arms to protect me and working on their tips. When we reached the animal i announced I was unloading my weapon and turned to my left, away from the PH and the Gov't
Scout, upon opening the noisy Remington 700 action with a roar the real crippled lioness charged from ten feet away. I slammed the bolt down and shot her in the head literally at my feet. We had never seen another lioness, the first may have been her daughter we will never know.
It took us a long time to find all the discarded axes but the boys were all safe back in the truck.
If not for poachers those two lioness would have had a longer life.
Great story Happy.
I was going to crawl under the porch with beekeeper, but scince Del went to all the trouble of puttin' up the tarp, the "spirits" are flowing, and because Mr, Myles asked, here goes.
Years ago, the state of Ark. started a 3pt(one side)or better rule on white-tail deer. We went out "squirrel hunting" on the day before gun season started to scout a "new" area. I found several scrapes and rubs("Hook bushes"step-dad calls em') in a area I liked.
Next morning we get a late start waiting on my little brother to get to mom's house. We get out to the area right at dawn and I'd told him about the area/set-up night before and on ride out.
Got into position and waited, about 45 mins. later I see a deer coming in from a "thicket" on my left, THERE'S HORNS(heart beating faster), but I only see forks(4pt.eastern count).He's still coming(did I mention I'm hunting on the ground), finialy he turns his head and there's the needed third point. I shoot, he runs, I wait then follow the blood trail, using T.P.(toilet paper) to mark my trail. Well I run out half way to the deer, and keep tracking. He crosses the fire road we came in on twice, as I cross back, my step-dad sees me and the deer(said I looked like a blood-hound on the trail) as I make it to the deer I hear a shot. I start draging him to the truck when I see my brother at the truck with a doe he's taken.
He starts yelling at me "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU ! I HEARD YOU SHOOT, CAME OVER TO HELP, SAW THE TRAIL AND FOLLOWED IT TILL IT RAN OUT ! I THOUGHT ALIENS GOT YOU OR SOMETHING ! He had set down to think about what to do next when three does walked by,so he shot one(single shot .243). We both got deer that year, and was the last time I got to hunt with him. He passed from heart disease the next year.
I've got a shooting/hunting story too.
Years ago(30+), Grand-parents took 9n my little brother and I for awhile(parents divorcing). For Christmas that year "we" got a muzzle loader "kit" for my Great-uncle "Pappy".
I got to help him put it together from "scratch", we took it out to the small farm he and my Great-Aunt(Grand-ma's sis) owned. We tied it to a stump, and ran out a string to the trigger. When asked why? Pappy replied "I've never put one of these things together and I'm a little scared it'll just blow up!" Well it did'nt blow and scince then 11 family members have ALL taken deer with that "FINE" old rifle, including one out at 127 steps(Pappy). It hangs above the fire-place now, maybe I'll take it out this year and "Go huntin' wuth Pappy again. Thank you guys, for leting me remember with you, fine fellows to listen.
Good story big O. Next time you might find an old tire. They are great for holding a gun to test fire without scatching the stock.
Thisthread has gotten really long so think i will start a new one.
Wonderful story. A great reflection on how things aren't always as they seem...
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