Me and my 3 brothers ( we all where young )where sitting on the back porch killing frogs with our air rifles . ( 3 of us where shooting and 1of us is using the spotter scope ) My youngst brother 9 was doing the spotting then yells goess. We all looked at him wierd, then he says big gessy is in the soy field . So look over there in my scope and i see a freackin emu . I tell him its a emu and the next oldest brother says somthing smart butt about emo being people who cut them self's . We agured about it being emo or emu for a good minute then the youngest brother said we should kill the big chicken and eat it . I knew there was a emu farmer down the road , so i rode my bike down and talked too him at his farm and he said it was not his and that some other bone head lost his farm and let all them all go , he said i should kill it cuz its been causing him problems . I said sure what ever , went back told my brothers what was going on , then i called my dad at work to see how i should kill it . He said use the 20 ga try too blow his head off . So got off the phone and the emu went from the soy bean field to the corn field and the corn was up so we me and the youngst ran in the the corn field too try to find it with the 20 ga and a bug knife , i got about a 100 feet in and fell in this freackin 6 foot deep hole that was just in the middle of the field . So i got out of the hole and left the corn and on the back home through the soy field and ran in too a badger . Ya it was a wierd day that day .
Hunting elk in Washington a shot rings out and a bull elk comes tumbling down the steep wooded hill. It lands at the feet of an old hunter. The old hunter looks at it for a few seconds and yells "Who Shot This Cow?" No one answered so he tagged it.
While I was stationed up in Alaska I went Moose hunting with some civilians I knew. They wanted to teach a young airman about hunting. We were walking down a game trail when we spotted a bull moose. The man in front threw up his rifle and jacked out every round without firing a shot. No one else could get a shot and the moose took off down the trail. I think we were laughing too hard. The trail made a sharp left turn and broke into a small clearing. We heard a big comotion, some bellows, screams and then a shot. We got to the clearing and there was the moose tangled up in what was left of an old army style tent. There were 2 hunters sitting on stumps in their long johns. One had a rifle accross his lap and both were staring in shock at the dead moose. We did not say anything but kept going. I believe they were in the tent when the moose ran into it.
I did shoot a moose up there but not on that hunt.
Note: That was my 1st hunt. I got my moose when I connected with someone who knew what he was doing. I think people took me hunting because they knew they would get the meat if I shot something. The Airforce was the 1st time I had ever handled or fired a weapon and the training was not much. I became addicted to shooting.
I was sitting on my front porch last year,about late fall.Just had a long sleeve shirt on,enjoying the peace.Then came a few does and a 6 point buck trotting along.No one else was around,i figured 'why not'.I had my .223 AR with me like always,so i shot the big boy in the head.I didnt realize what i did until a few minutes later."Oh crap,i shot a deer in the head from my porch."
I havnt shot any deer from my porch since then,but i did enjoy a ground roasted shoulder.
I dont know if any of you fellers have ever been prairie dog hunting, but it is about the goriest activity you will participate in. Just using small varmint rounds (22 ppc personally) you are guaranteed to send these little ****s flying one way, their guts the other way. On one occasion i flung one of these bastards so high he came back down and was hanging on the fence he had holed up under.
I dont know if any of you fellers have ever been prairie dog hunting, but it is about the goriest activity you will participate in. Just using small varmint rounds (22 ppc personally) you are guaranteed to send these little ****s flying one way, their guts the other way. On one occasion i flung one of these bastards so high he came back down and was hanging on the fence he had holed up under.
One night I was gigging frogs in a slough outside of Sacramento. We would wade around in the water with a flashlight and a gig on a 12 foot pole. My new rechargeable Maglight had run down its battery so I was wading back to get another one out of the truck. I see a wake in the water heading towards me in the starlight so I get the gig ready thinking it was a frog and waiting to turn on my flashlight (those rechargeables will give you a few seconds of good light when the battery is down) and the wake gets bigger and bigger as it gets closer and closer. When it was about in range of my gig pole I turn on the light and a dadgum muskrat the size of a Spaniel rears up out of the water, I yelled and I believe the muskrat screamed as he flipped over and swam away as fast as he could. Scared the bejeebers out of both of us for a second. My buddy who was up around the bend thought I was being murdered but I was laughing so hard I couldn't answer him when he hollered out if I was OK. He fell in the water trying to get to me to help me out but he was laughing hard too when I told him what happened. I still chuckle when I think of that night.
When i was about 14 my great uncle took me and my cousin **** hunting. This was shake out season.... no guns allowed. The idea is that your dogs get a **** up a tree and you climb up and "shake him out" for the dogs to fight, thereby training the younger dogs to learn what they are after.
My Uncle was getting to age that he couldn't walk up the hills so he told us to go after it when the dogs treed way off in the distance. The dogs were lead by a blue tick hound named Old Rufus. Rufus was as my uncle put it.. "the greatest **** dog in Kentucky" When he went to balling- there was a ****. And that night we waited for Rufus to give us the signal then were told to "go shake 'em out!"
We took off running at first but slowed as we climbed. The only light we had was a **** light (miners style) that attached to a hard hat. My uncle's only one. One that he no doubt save years for to buy. He make suire we knew how important that light was, how expensive and how old it was. I was an honor to be the guy to wear it.
We climbed for what seemed forever straight up a ridge. We finally get to the tree and sitting on the first limb was a big fat 'possum about 15 ft up. I suppose i don't need to tell most of you hunters out there that when you go for ***** and you tree 'possums it's a not a good thing and something that me and my cousin decided we just wasn't going to tell our Uncle, not only be cause it would be a rough night for the dog, but we just didn't want to shame his prize dog or hurt any feelings.
Anyway, My cousin "Big Ira" decides that it's the 'possum's fault we walked all that way and must pay. He reaches down and lifts up a cider stump about the size of a loaf of bread. He walks around to the upper side intent that we will never again tree THIS 'possum. I stand just opposite on the lower side of the tree and keep the spot on the target. With a loud grunt and stumbling around in the leaves Big Ira hurls the chunk of wood into the air. ARRGGHHH Rustle SWOOOSH I see the stump raise up into the darkness flying just over the 'possum and in a split second i loose it in the darkness but still trained on the 'opossum.
When i came too my cousin was in tears over me thinking he had killed me. I had a large cut on the bridge of my nose, a massive head ache and the makings of 2 black eyes that were quickly swelling. The ONLY thing that died was my uncle's **** light. It laid in pieces beside me.
20 years later we still have not told him his dog treed a possum that night. I just fell into a creek and hit my face on a rock. Also, to this day, Rufus is still talked about as the "greatest **** dog to live in henry county" and was surely "worth thousands." My uncle laughs about how i looked like a **** with my black eyes back then. Sometimes i want to say, i was the closest thing to **** any of us had seen that night.
Great story! It is stories like that we remember forever. And tell our kids about that hunt. I remember my Uncle telling stories on the front porch during big family gatherings such as 4th of July, Labor day etc. Then each of the brothers would try to out do the others with a story. That was the way it was in my day, passing on the history of our family with stories.
Sarge
Hunting in the swamps of La. can be dangerous. we were hunting on the levys with dogs when my brother decided to go through some marsh grass to another location, lo an behold he is hollerin for help. He had stepped inside a nutria slip, he had his shot gun across the slip and only his head was above water. I told him that he had to give me his gun or I would leave him there for the buzzards, just kidding. I killed 8 rabbits in front of those dogs with a single shot 20 gauge all inside of 2 min..... What a hunt.......
Several years ago I was scouting some property I had been given permission to turkey hunt on. It was private property and I was supposed to be the only one on it. I was a good 3/4 mile from the nearest road and was following a feeder creek. As I came around a small bluff and bend in the creek, less than 30 feet away were a guy and a girl laying on a blanket, doing the wild thing.
I stared for a minute and they never knew I was there. I backtracked about 50 yards and went around them. I don't know who they were or where they came from or how they got there. I did kill a nice gobbler on the property a few weeks later. Maybe they brought me good luck or maybe some turkeys saw what they were doing and got them in the mood, making my job easier.
So I take this buddy of mine hunting for deer, he's a vet and hasn't had an oppertunity to hunt for the last 3-4 years " sad story, I know" but the guys pretty funny and fun tto be around so I know it would be good times.
So we go out to my cousins place on a nice wooded hillside where I've been chasing this whopper whitetail buck, a heavy framed 4x4 with split brow tines and a body approaching 250 Lbs.. This deer has a method of escape that scares me every time, it lays in the thick until I get close or just past, then he launches out like a rocket and blazes down hill through the trees. I about crap my pants everytime.
So after telling my story on the way out, we head up the hill picking our way to a nice sit spot. My buddy spots the rocket laid down on a bench just to our right half way up the hill and we get low and move up to get a clean shot. As my buddy gets a sight picture a doe spots us and stands up and blows. The buck jumps up and my buddy shoots, the rocket hits the ground then gets up and runs down the hill. We watch as this deer runs obviously hit hard and we're expecting it to drop. We loose sight of it and seconds later we hear squeeling brakes and a collision down on the road! My buddy yells no! And we head down hill at a jog.. as we get to the road below the carnage is amazing. A semi-truck had pasted the rocket all over the road. Antlers broken, limbs twisted, hide tore up, radiator steaming metal crumpled, a complete mess.. the driver is out and says "it jumped right out in front of me".. My buddy always quick, said "ya we heard the wreck from up there, you want us to help load up your deer"? Driver says " you guys think its any good"? And we're saying " sure it'll make good hamburger".. so we load it up into his trailer and head back to my truck.
Now everytime I see my buddy I say "hamburger" and he laughs.
Years ago when fox skins were worth around $30-50 each my b-i-l ,mate and I would head out spotlighting to try and make a few $$$'s on the side with the skins.
On this particular night we get out to the property and after meeting the farmer and a quick chat we set up and head off into the paddocks to thin the foxes out.
The way we operate was 1 drives,1 uses the spotlight and last man shoots and the driver is the gopher and takes a length of thick electrical cable about 2' in length and about 1-2" thick(The Quiet Deceiver) for despatching any wounded foxes with a tap on the head.
As it worked out my b-i-l was the driver/gopher,my mate was the spotlighter and I was the man with my REM 788 .222 loaded with 45gn Speer SP pills.
After about 2 hours we had a couple of headshot foxes on board and it was starting to get fairly cold as a heavy frost was starting to settle when a pair of Orange eyes lit up in the light,"FOX!" yells my mate and as we were on the side of a hill on a dirt track and the fox was about 50 yds out sitting on the side of the track getting a bit edgy I tapped on the roof of the 4wd and the b-i-l stops.
I quickly line up the Fox's head in the 'scope and let drive at him and a solid "Whack" tells us that the fox is down and out or so we thought as the fox goes down and then starts to get up.
The b-i-l flys out of the 4wd with The Quiet Deceiver in his hand and races up to the fox.
Now this is where it gets "interesting" as we're parked on the side of a steep hill and the fox is now starting to slip down the hill and as the b-i-l gets to the fox he raises the Quiet Deceiver to deliver the final blow when he goes A over T as he slips on the frosty grass and then both he and the fox are both sliding down the hill with the fox snapping at the b-i-l and the b-i-l trying to belt the fox over the head.
About this stage of the scene the mate and I notice an electric fence at the bottom of the hill and the b-i-l and the fox were heading straight for it and we couldn't do a thing about it except stand there and watch as the b-i-l and the fox still going at each other hit the fence together,"CRACK" and the b-i-l let out what could only be described as a girlish scream and the fox let out a long "YIPE".
The mate and I were reduced to tears at this stage as the b-i-l sort of stood up and finished the now stunned fox off and started to stumble back up the hill looking like a cowboy that had just spent 4 days in the saddle without getting off and not happy,regards
This is a related to hunting story. My father and I used to travel all over the southeast when I was younger and playing in golf tourneys. We were just outside of Gainesville Florida when we passed a sign for the "Fred Bear Museum". My father got all excited and said we had to go. Now I think I was like 12 at the time and I had no idea who Fred Bear was. We went to the museum which was pretty amazing. I'm sure most of you know who he is but just in case, he killed every animal imaginable with an old style wooden bow. They had some absolutely amazing pictures of him just feet away from animals like brown bears and cape buffalo, along with many,many trophies. It was something I will always remember. Later that day we were eating lunch and I was thinking to myself about all those animals that he had killed. I look over at my dad and say, "Hey dad why do they call him Fred Bear?". My dad looks over at me dumbfounded and within seconds is just crying he is laughing so hard. He can't even get it out of his mouth that that was the man's real name. That may be one of those you had to be there to think it's funny things, but my father and I will always remember that and he will still look at me from time to time and ask me "hey matt why do they call him Fred Bear?"
I missed the 2005 deer season here in wester NY due to needing to have half of my left foot removed but, I still have a hunting story from that year. I was transfered to erie county medical center for surgery when I met my roomate, Dan. He was in due to the following incident.
ON opening day of bow season he saw a large 12 point coming down a trail that was out of range for all of his three stands. He left and came back two days later,this time bringing along his climbing stand. Picked out a tree, set up, and climbed into position. Sure enough, the buck comes right down the trail and stops 25 yards out in a perfect broadside. Dan clicked on his release, drew, and took aim. All of the sudden, creak! The stand shifts down, he asdjusts and fires. Double lung,perfect shot. At the same moment down goes Dan and the stand. He recovers the deer, loads his gear, And heads for home. Gets back to the house, his wife sees him coughing up blood and takes him to ecmc. Punctured right lung, two broken ribs, and a broken tree stand, $$$$! 12 point mount andthe story behind it? PRICELESS!
My maternal grandfather (best friend in the whole world, may he rest in peace) and I were scouting out the area we would be hunting in Gladwin MI on a piece of state land. It was the day before opening day of deer season, and he and I were in my old K5 Blazer. I was carrying a Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum, even in those days Michigan allowed officers from other states to carry.
Anyway...we drove past a couple of guys who were out doing the same thing we were. They were out of their truck, so we stopped and passed the time for a minute or so.
We got back into the Blazer and headed deeper into the woods.
My grandpa, being just as twisted as I asked me to fire my revolver. I knew the area we were in and no one was close by, so I let six rounds rip into an old stump that sat in front of a tall berm.
I wasn't sure what he was trying to accomplish...but he jumped into the BACK of the Blazer and said "Let's go!"
I did as I was told, and he got way down low and covered himself up with a blanket so it looked as though I was alone in the Blazer when we passed the two fellers we had previously talked to.
Of course by this time, my keen cop mind had caught onto his plan! As I drove by the guys, I covered my gace and accelerated away from them.
They looked at me with a puzzled, then startled look on their faces as I poured the coals to it.
In my rear view, I saw them jump into their truck and take off in the direction from which we had just come!
wolfdog,
Your story is a funny one indeed.
This topic isn't just limited to funny turkey hunting stories, but all funny hunting stories in general. I just started with a turkey story because it was the one that came to mind the quickest. So please tell one of your funny deer hunting stories.
With all the hunters on this board I thought this would be a big success.
The property where I hunt had a very big deer population , so big that the owner had me shoot as many deer as I could , shoot every thing you see was his instruction .. Now I had been shooting there for about 18 months and had dveveloped into a very good shot , my best tally was 8 out of 9 at moving deer just on dark , all between 75 and 100 yards away , and did I brag about it for some days , until on this morning when I was hunting amongst some low hills , maybe 8 or 9 feet high when I spotted a hind which I shot , then ran to the top of the nearest hill to see if there were any others which would have been hidden .. Well there he was a stag just standing there say 40 yards away ,I swung onto him and let go , he responded by standing still looking at the pampas grass ,so I fired again same result , so I went closer and saw that his horns were entangled in the pampas grass and he could not move away , poor soul was so skinny he must have been there for a long time ,but tied up couldn't move , and I had missed him at 40 yards not once but twice .. It don't do to get big headed ,and a string of hits don't mean you are the best shot in the world .. Ego now under control ..
The property where I hunt had a very big deer population , so big that the owner had me shoot as many deer as I could , shoot every thing you see was his instruction .. Now I had been shooting there for about 18 months and had dveveloped into a very good shot , my best tally was 8 out of 9 at moving deer just on dark , all between 75 and 100 yards away , and did I brag about it for some days , until on this morning when I was hunting amongst some low hills , maybe 8 or 9 feet high when I spotted a hind which I shot , then ran to the top of the nearest hill to see if there were any others which would have been hidden .. Well there he was a stag just standing there say 40 yards away ,I swung onto him and let go , he responded by standing still looking at the pampas grass ,so I fired again same result , so I went closer and saw that his horns were entangled in the pampas grass and he could not move away , poor soul was so skinny he must have been there for a long time ,but tied up couldn't move , and I had missed him at 40 yards not once but twice .. It don't do to get big headed ,and a string of hits don't mean you are the best shot in the world .. Ego now under control ..
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