The Bright side of Hunting

[Zip]

Dang, Swampy's thread is downright depressing me. Why are people like that? How 'bout some good stories? I'll start, but it doesn't exactly have a happy ending, except that I knew I done the right thing.

It was snowing heavy in the High Sierras. I rounded a bend and there on the road was a fella and 2 young guys. In the ditch was his Dodge truck with a cab over camper laid on its side. Snow was coming down horizontal now. I stopped and the 2 young guys took off saying they would stop by the Ranger station and let them know what happened. After a while, me and the fella are getting cold. I tell him, I'll give you a ride to your camp. He locks up his truck and brings his rifle with him and puts a few items in my truck bed and hops in the passenger side. When we drive by the Ranger station it's closed for the season.

I drive 10 miles outta my way to his camp. He exits, grabs his stuff from my truck bed and disappears into his buddies' trailer without so much as a "thank ye". Never see him again. Oh well, like I said I done the right thing. My buddies said I shoulda gone back to his truck and put a round or two through it. Darn, that never even occurred to me. I only realize later that he took his gun cause he didn't trust me.

I know you all got some good stories to tell. It can't all be bad.

 

[hoochiepapa]

My uncle Dale was a sniper in WWII. We hunted with him, and usually he would drive himself to some meadow and sit, listening to the radio, and smoking his pipe. (a neuroligical disease runs on my dad's side of the family, where the muscles degenerate in the calves, feet, and hands. It's called Charko Marie Tooth). So Uncle Dale couldn't walk very well, his toes were curled up and had no calf muscles.
THere's this one meadow that was his favorite haunt when the snows came, we always saw lots of elk there. This particular morning we left him there, and drove to the top of another ridge, where we saw four huge cow elk running off the top. Not too long after, we heard Uncle Dale shoot four times. SO we decided he had some thing down and should go help him. As we drove up to his truck, he was taking the scope off his rifle, and cussing like a sailor. Remember I told you he was a sniper? Well the story goes that he was sitting in his truck smoking his pipe and listening to the radio, and in his rearview mirror saw elk running across the meadow. He bailed out of his truck, and shot those four times. We asked him why he shot four times and how he could not have hit anything? And with much cursing, he told us he had left his 3X9 scope cranked up on 9 and all he could see was hair!!
We checked, found where the elk had run, found no hair, or blood, and being the "goat" I had to follow the tracks to be sure he hit nothing.
Not necessarily a bright side, but a funny one.

 

[vern faulkner]

I have to confess that I've enjoyed all my hunts. When I was younger, going out hunting was always a way that I relieved the stresses of raising a family, the job and so forth. Later as my sons got older and went along with me I enjoyed watching them coming of age so to speak. Now with my sons raising their own family's and working I find myself hunting mostly alone again. I go slower, sit longer and sort of air out the attic while enjoying my pipe. Sitting on a log watching for a few squirrels in my (somewhat) traditional outfit and little .32 or maybe my .36 I think a lot about what it must have been like "back then". Sitting on a high spot along the Delaware River I can (almost) see some early voyagers in their canoes. I always come home refreshed and a little tired. However while hunting grouse and woodcock up in Vermont a number of years ago I did run into a very attractive young lady who was also hunting birds. I with my Brit and her with her Setter spent a few hours hunting together. A most enjoyable afternoon.

Vern

 

[luieb45]

How 'bout almost getting your buddy hit by a crow you just shot dead falling from the sky. It landed 'bout 3 feet from him and I had to yell for him to move. I don't think I've ever laughed that hard in my life.

 

[Stumpkiller]

Happily, the good FAR outweigh the bad. Above is my good friend Gary who now hunts different grounds. We had some great hunts.


One year I was bowhunting on land behind my house that belonged to a long-time resident who the rest of the neighborhood had been built around. I was in full camo and had my face painted & all, and I spotted him squirrel huning with his .22 LR. I called "Hey" and walked over to him, chuckling that he had about jumped out of his boots when he saw me. He said "what the h#ll are you supposed to be?" But it came out "Wu da hew yu 'ppos ee?" He didn't have his false teeth in and didn't have a tooth in his head. We stood there laughing at each other.

'Ol Jack made it to 102 years old and was still in his farmhouse when he passed away. Great man and a heck of a cook. He deer hunted right up to 96 and I made sure he always had some venison . . . and a squirrel or two.

 

[rabjr]

Right, theres been a hell of a lot more bright spots than bad. If there wasn't, I wouldn't still be at it. First would be the life I've seen go on in the woods over the years dealing with all kinds of animals, some in very serious situations and some in comical ones. I always considered it a privilege to have witnessed what I have while hunting.

Being there and witnessing friends/family harvest their first of anything after telling them where to go and what to do. :thumbsup:

 

[paulvallandigham]

I was pheasant hunting the weekend before X-mas, with a friend one year. Drove up to his home, 40 miles from my own before daylight that morning, and on fresh snow that had fallen overnite. We drove together out to his farm ground, and, as we pulled into the place he wanted to leave the cars, a flock of pheasants- at least a dozen, came strutting out to see who we were and why we were waking them up before first light. We could not shoot, of course, as it was not legal hunting time, nor was there enough light, even with the snow, to see the birds without the headlights on the cars left on. So,we sat there while the birds went in all directions. You had to laugh. Grown men are not suppose to cry.

We found the tracks of one big old cock heading across the field of clover, towards the timber along the river, so we followed him. Into the trees we went, where a clump of snow decided to fall down and into my upraised barrel, and another clump fell down my neck. This with no wind at all. I had to laugh, etc.

We continued to follow the pheasant, and by this time had gauged his age and size based on the length of his spurs, and the length of his tail. He came out on the other side of the woods walking towards a pile of debris stacked up by the local drainage district that that was clearing the banks of trees along the river. The wood was stacked in huge- 25 Ft. tall-- piles to burn the next spring.

About half way from the woods to the nearest pile, that pheasant flew off. He left the delicate impression of every feather in his wings in the soft snow. Neither of us had ever seen anything quite like it, so we stopped to walk around the wing tracks to see them from all angles to the new, rising sun. It was obvious that when that sun rose higher later in the morning, the sun would burn the edges of the snow prints, and blur the fine detail we were seeing. No camera angle could possibly have produced a picture that showed all the details, either.

I asked my friend if he realized what that meant? He didn't, so I told him, "All those good people still asleep in their beds have missed this wonderful sight, and if we could call them right now, by the time they got dressed and drove out here, it would be too late to see all this detail. You have to get up before dawn, and BE HERE if you want to ever see something this special. " He smiled and agreed with me. We hunted all that day, kicking up at least one hen, but never did see another cock pheasant, and never fired a shot all day long. I left him at dusk, to drive back home.

When I arrived, my wife stuck her head out the back door as I was getting out of the car, and asked, " Did you get anything?" I told her, "NO". She then said, " I am sorry you had a bad day."

I began laughing, and told her I had a wonderful day, and then began describing this long walk after this big cock pheasant that morning, the snow down my back, and the barrel of my gun, and the delicate print of its wing feathers in the new snow.

She looked at me like I was out of my mind! :shocked2: :blah: :blah: :youcrazy: She, of course, had never been hunting. Her idea of roughing it was having to spend a night in a Holiday Inn motel!

You have to laugh. Grown men are not suppose to cry.

Hunting is about Being There. :hmm: :haha: :hatsoff: :hatsoff:

The " Gettin'" is only the icing on the cake. :bow:

 

[Bill Hall]

So many memories, so many experiences, so many stories, I am truley blessed. But nothing compares to being there for two of my daughters' first kills. Teaching them over the years, and talking them through every step, even building them the gun they use, and seeing it all come together in the end is better than any trophy I could kill myself.

My third daughter is 19, and we will be going on her first elk hunt this fall. She's the kind who is super sensative to other people's and animal's feelings, so I'm half expecting she may not be able to pull the trigger. If not, eh :idunno: , it will still be one of my favorite elk hunts. Bill

 

[flyfisher76544]

For me it would have to be my sons first waterfowl hunt. My bud and I had scouted out a really nice slew on a public lake in Texas and made sure we got there with Jake really early. Well about an hour before legal shooting light we heard a man down the slew from us talking to his kids. The conversation made it sound as if they might have some problems so I went to see what was going on. There was a man with twins, a boy and a girl who had only hunted a few times. Well after talking with thier father for a few moments, Brad and I looked at him and invited them over to our spread. The poor guy was trying so hard to make this hunt enjoyable for his kids that he had forgotten his decoys at the house. Plus I could only imagine having to get 2 excited kids ready. We hooked the guy up with a cup of coffee and got the kids all in position with an adult beside each(Brad didnt have a child at the time) 5 Minutes before legal shooting time, a group of 20 widgeon came buzzing in and landed right in the decoys not more than 20 feet in front of the decoys. Luckily the ducks stayed and the children got to watch them until it was time. Both boys knocked done 2 and the little girl dropped 3. The rest of the morning went better than we could have hoped for with lots of birds working and the children had a great hunt. I still get christmas cards from the Bell family to this day and consider them to be good friends.

 

[rawhide]

last year duck hunting there was some guys a few hunderd yard down from me and a friend. we talked to them and said we'd pick up there left overs. ones they missed. all seemed fine. first couple of flocks came in and of corse they start calling to them. nonstop! ducks got call shy or neverce then landed in our set up. we shoot 3 ducks down. one of them getts all upset and said hey we were working them ducks! we said sorry every thing was fine then. told him I think you guys are over calling and scaring the ducks off. said oh? never thought of that... so we being the guys we are told him grab his stuff and join us with his buddy. man you think I gave them a winning lottery ticket! thats how happy they got. come to find out they were new to duck hunting and didn't realy know to much about it. so next group starts to come in to the deks I said let me call to them. quik quik to soft blows they came in them guys got over exieded. told them to wait 25 plus more were coming in! I didn't call they landed told them and my friend on my signle start to shoot. I yelled get up you. the ducks jumped we all got some ducks. the one guy said he never seen any thing like that before! well any way helped them guys out we all got a few ducks and it made for a good hunt. rawhide.

 

[roundball]

A half century of memories...a few highlights would be:
1st few bucks with caplocks, 1st few bucks with rifled Flintlocks, 1st few with smoothbore Flintlocks, 1st few squirrels with rifled Flintlocks and 1st few with smoothbore Flintlocks, and my longbeards with smoothbore Flintlocks

While bow hunting, I had an owl land on a limb near my right elbow at dusk where I was sitting camo'ed, getting ready to climb down out of my treestand...never knew I was there...when he pitched down towards the ground after something, his left wing tip brushed the toes of my boots sticking out over the front of the platform.

Deer hunting, I saw a hawk come rocketing down in a blur to grab a squirrel that was in the leaves 25yds out in front of me...have had a couple other times when they missed because the squirrels darted away at the last second.

Turkey hunting, I had a female hummingbird appear right in front of my face mask, 3" away peering into the mask opening for my eyes...hovered there looking for 15-20 seconds then it occurred to me she might make a stab at my eyeball and I shooed her away.

Deer hunting I had a Doe very cautiously approach me while sitting on the ground leaning against a tree...stopped and stretched her head out to within a couple feet of my boots peering at me to try and figure out what I was...can't believe she either didn't scent me or didn't know what it was.

Deer hunting I had a flock of turkeys come scratching through the woods and one of hens saw me up in a tree stand...curiosity got the best of her, and she flew up a few feet to land on a skinny pine that had been bent over under the weight of ice and began walking up that curved tree sideways until she got even with me and just studied me to death...then fluttered back down and resumed her scratching and pecking with the flock.

Many memories like that really make hunting enjoyable...

 

[vern faulkner]

It had been pretty cold and misty with a very fine/light rain as I made my way to my deer stand on the edge of a once cut over field that had since grown up with saplings about four feet high. Of course the saplings had a fairly good coating of ice on them. As dawn approached the sky cleared to a crystle blue. As the sun peaked over the crest of the mountian the field in front of me suddenly turned into a field of pure diamonds. I sat in amazement for the few moments that it lasted and knew that no human could paint as beautiful a picture. I felt truly blessed to have witness that.

Vern

 

[Herb]

Here's my bright side. I started hunting in Iowa about 1946 and have a muzzleloader bull elk hunt this November on the north slope of the Uintahs. I hunted in Iowa, Minnesota, Missouri, Illinois, North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Wyoming, Oregon, Colorado, Utah, Idaho and Texas. Squirrels, rabbits, pheasants, quail, ruffed grouse, groundhogs, 13-lined and flickertail gophers, prairie dogs, red fox and coyotes, bullfrogs, doves, waterfowl, snipe, sharptailed grouse, Hungarian partridge, sage grouse and blue grouse, white-tailed, mule and black-tailed deer, antelope and elk and maybe things I've forgotten. I remember no bad incident with landowners or other hunters in all those years. Much of my hunting is on public lands alone or in remote areas, but I have not lead a sheltered life. In 28 years of law enforcement work as a US Fish and Wildlife refuge manager, I contacted a lot of hunters. Only the first and last of those contacts could have killed me, that I am aware of. Most hunters were properly behaved, at least up to 1982 when I transferred to fire management and no longer had LE authority. Back on the Mississippi River, we might catch one violator and he would yell at his buddies, "come on, we're caught!" Still, a federal game agent I worked with, Vic, was afterwards shot in the face by a duck hunter and left for dead. I later worked with him in North Dakota. Oh yeah, I hunted a wolf in North Dakota, a cattle killer. He was later darted from a helicopter, and overdosed and died. Thanks to those who tell of their bright side hunting experiences.

 

[rawhide]

ok I got another one just happened the other day. sorry it wasn't hunting wile fishing. but I think you guys will like this. while fishing for pink salmon on the river of the bank and the indains in boats netting a friend of mine on the bank got is line caught up in the indains net (hey it happens) unfortunetly it broke his line. do to the net got to close to bottom. they knew so did my friend. a mild tense moment. he retied upset of corse mind you the indians are my friends to. well next pass buy the indains my friend fox in the boat told us to please pull are gear up. not wanting to we did. they pulled along side the bank and said hey how many fish you got? I had one friend Nick 2. next thing they helped us to limit out. so we were all happy said the net hit bottom because it was to heavy with fish. least he cude do for braeking Nicks line off.

 

[hoochiepapa]

Nice to see that humans sometimes treat each other well. :thumbsup:

 

[hoochiepapa]

THe fondest memory I have is going to "the cabin" the day before hunting season, and chopping wood for the stove and fireplace, listening to my dad snore so loud noone could sleep, getting up before everyone else and making coffee and getting the stove and fireplace roaring. That was my job 'cause I was the youngster. Then the elders would roll out and start getting dressed, the oldest, uncle Dale and uncle Bill by the fire, and all the talk about where we were going to find the elk. Each person, if going alone, would tell where they would be, and they had to stick to it unless they let someone else know about any change. That way if someone didn't show up for lunch or dinner, we would know where to start looking. In spite of the grouchy nature we would get into later in the season because noone was seeing elk, it was fun and I have lots of great memories.

 

[jethro224]

Thankfully there have been WAY more bright spots in my hunting experiences than dark spots.
Here are a few.

Taking my nephew hunting and seeing him get his very first squirrel.

Taking the same nephew squirrel hunting another time when he ended up sitting smack-dab on an ant hole. A few minutes went by and he started squirming around. A few more minutes went by and he was up and dancing around while shucking off his britches. I laughed my butt off! Bright for me, kinda dark for him. :rotf:

Helping another nephew to get his first deer. He's hooked for life.

Taking my Dad hunting.

The day I took my brother-in-law hunting and told him to go sit in a place where I had seen a real nice buck. He had never got a deer before. Just before first light on opening morning I told him exactly where to walk and how to approach the stand. He did it perfectly and shot a 138" buck before he even got up the tree. 2 minutes into legal time! When he called my cell phone I had never heard him so excited! I had to go back and help him field dress the buck and get him out so I didn't even get to hunt that morning but it was worth it to see his smile.

Helping several hunters find deer they had given up as lost.

The charmed morning when I shot my biggest ever buck. It was a deer hunters dream morning! 16 deer sighted by 8am and the biggest one on the ground with my tag attached!

When the neighbors called to tell me they had found my buck after we had lost his trail a few hours earlier and had to give up. He was a nice one too. Most neighbors would have tagged him themselves. Thank God for good neighbors!
And the smiles I got when I dropped off a shooting bag I made for Dale, and a knife for his Dad, to show my appreciation, were pretty bright too.

Then there are about a bazillion other experiences I never would have had if I had not been out hunting. Unique, beautiful, funny, amazing, touching, awesome, REAL LIFE experiences. I wouldn't trade them for anything.

 

[Eric Krewson]

OK, I have a mother hen gene in me, can't help looking out for other folk in a group hunting situation.

This story sounds a bit dark but was filled with incredible elation and relief upon it's conclusion.

I managed a huge hunting club, 50 members, some I knew, some I had never met. I felt responsible for everyone's safety(mother hen) and stayed at the check-in station every evening that I hunted to make sure all the other guys made it back from the woods with out a mishap.

We had a sign in system whereby a hunter would select an area of approximately 200 acres, place his pin on a map of the entire lease for this area and remove his pin when he was finished with his hunt.

One evening, hours after sun down, a young man had failed to pull his pin so I knew something was wrong. I drove to area he had signed in for and found his truck on the side of the road. Calling from the roadside, horn honking and a brief foray into the deep ravine failed to get a response. I suspected the worse.

This was a time before cell phones so I drove 45 miles home, called all the other members who lived close enough to respond quickly and mounted a search party.

It was 2 hours after I first realized there was a problem when we entered the woods to look for the young man. Visions of what we would find haunted me, the possibility of a firearms accident, tree stand accident or worse cause a sickening lump in my stomach. A call to his mother confirmed he had little or no experience in the woods, our expectations were low.

I took an old Coleman lantern into the dark woods, others carried a variety of flashlights, the temperature was in the 20s and dropping fast. The terrain consisted of long deep hollow about a mile long with feeder hollows going in every direction.

About midnight, deep in the hollow, we called the boys name and heard a faint cry in response somewhere in the darkness ahead of us. We were all instantly transported from the depths of despair to a level of incredible elation, he was still alive.

It took us a while to locate him because of the poor acoustics of the hollow but find him we did. He was uninjured but in bad shape from hypothermia and couldn't walk.

Turned out he had entered the hollow system wearing jeans, a tee shirt and an army field jacket without a liner, no flashlight or compass and had absolutely no knowledge of the complex drainage system he had entered.

He had seen a deer and thought if he followed it he might get a bow shot but was only led deeper into the maze in the fading light. As with most deep hollows daylight turns to pitch black darkness in a matter of minutes, he was trapped before knew it.

Thank goodness for the old Coleman lantern! We made a tent out of his field jacked with him and the lantern in the middle and gradually warmed him back up. His uncontrollable shaking subsided in time and he was able to march out of the hollow and back to his truck. He thanked us and drove away never to be seen on the club land again.

A few more hours and he would have been dead. Finding him alive was the most rewarding experiences in my 45 years of hunting. Definitely on the "bright side of hunting" but in a different way than most.

Sorry for the long narrative.

 

[hoochiepapa]

:thumbsup: :thumbsup:
Great story!! I can't imagine the fear that was in your heart.

 

[paulvallandigham]

I have had Bright sides of hunting, as well as the dark.

The time I took my second wife hunting, and she killed her first Canada Goose. She was both elated, and sad at having killed such a magnificent bird. I told her it was OKAY to feel both emotions- its something that all hunters feel, but guys rarely talk about. Our Goose guide and caller heard that and smiled at me. Then he assured her I was telling her the truth.

The time I took my brother hunting, and saw him shoot his first pheasant. He was very happy, and pumped to go after the next one.

My first deer, killed more than a mile from my car, in the Shawnee National Forest, with a 20 story ( 200 ft. elevation difference) hill between the deer and my car. A younger fellow camped hear me, had taken his deer opening morning, and had been sitting in camp while his father hunted. He offered to help me get my deer out of the woods. We both near died dragging that old doe up those steep sided ravines, and then up the ridge trail to the top of that hill. It was worse walking down the steep logging road with that deer hung from a pole, resting on our shoulders. That pole just kept digging into my shoulder and his.

Never a complaint from him, and he refused my offer of money for all his work. He and his dad offered me some fresh fried Liver, Onions and bacon for lunch the first day, and instructed me about how to both cook great liver, and the need to cook it ASAP. I swear that liver tasted as sweet as Prime Rib, and was so tender I easily cut it with the side of my fork. Not those thin, 1/8" cuts you had in school lunch programs, but a 1/2-5/8" think Steak of liver.

I have since followed those instructions religiously and have served a lot of people venison liver. Every year new people who love fresh liver join the "feast", which is held the same day the deer is killed, when possible.

I only mention it here because its the very fine meals that a successful hunt allows me to enjoy with friends that makes hunting a bright memory, too. :thumbsup: :hatsoff: