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So there was this doe that got hit by a car and was nursed back to health and released into the woods. She walked right into the yard and hung around likely for the water. We had 4 dogs and a goat. I was surprised the dogs ignored her for the most part. She was attractive to the bucks in the area.
 

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The next year she gave birth to two fawns. They disappeared. Probably coyotes got them.
 

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years ago, my wife worried me to death to take her deer hunting with me. so i finally relented, and we got her a rifle and all the gear she would need. taught her to shoot pretty good and so every thing was in place for the next deer season when it rolled around.

so the opening day of deer season, we get up early and made the drive to the deer lease and i get her set up in her stand, and told her i would come and check on her if i heard her make a shot and help her with her deer if she got one. so ventured a little farthe and made my way to my stand. well a couple of hours go by and i hear a shot in the direction of her stand. so i get down and made my way to see what she got.

well when i happened upon the scene of where she was, she was in heated argument with some cowboy.

the wife: "It's my deer and i'm the one who shot it, and you're not taking it!"

the cowboy: "Okay lady. I'm not going to argue with you anymore about it. It's your deer, but can i at least have my saddle?"

this is why you don't take your wife deer hunting!

(not a true story!)
 
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This didn't happen to me but to my niece's husband. He was sitting in his portable ground blind deer hunting. He was watching out the front window and had his rifle positioned for that window.But he also had a side window open. Suddenly a small buck stuck its head through the side window. My niece's husband whipped his head around and he and the buck were literally nose to nose. The buck immediately bolted and before he could get his rifle into position for a shot, the buck was long gone.
 

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As requested, the video shoot cellular interuptus story.

About 10 years ago, a friend of mine came up with a concept for a new hunting video series, and pitched it to me. Rather than go to all kinds of places most hunters dream about, why not show them, mainly the viewers in Erie county PA, Warren County PA, Erie County NY, Chautauqua County NY, and Cattaragus NY, that they have plenty of good hunting opportunities right here at home. To me, it sounded like a good idea, and no one else seemd to be doing so, except around certain towns in these places. So we started the planning stage, got our gear toegther, and started with a dew scouting and pre season videos. We got some nive game footage, shot some beautiful sights while out there, and even slipped in a few Lake Erie and other bodies of water, fishing videos.

next, he went to talk to sponsors, and got a couple small local shops, to sign on. one LGS, a few bait and tackle shops, and an archery pro shop. he did better than I thought he would.

Now, we shot some small game stuff in September, and some Spring turkey hunts in May of that year, but we were waiting for the rut to start, and the start of Archery season. when it did, we filmed several days of hunting, more than a few shots had to passed up, because, even though Ed had a shot, I didn't on the camera, and he had decided to pursue one deer that year, nothing less than the big buck out by his BIL's place. he also filmed for me, and I took an early season 6 point, age 4.5 years, and passed up a few does, saving my late season tag, antlerless, for the muzzle loader season. I also managed to fill ponje of my doe tags on a day we didn't film, so by the time shotgun opened, my freezer was full.

his still wasn't.

the first Saturday of shotgun, we went out to the woods, and snuck in about 04:00, and got set up, right over the bedroom of a big buck. i was up first, and when he came back up the trail to bed down, I waited for a good broadside shot, and as soon as I conformed it would be on film, I pressed the trigger. Clean hit at the base if the skull from 20 yards, DRT. after dressing and taking him to the house, so we could hang him to drain, until I went home that night, we went back in, to another pair of stands on the property, and I took the camera gear up with me, Ed took his shotgun, and settled in.

he didn't see but a spike, and two doe all day, and had to pass on the doe, because they were out of view on my end. no clear shot for the camera.

About 16:30 it started getting cooler, and the light was just starting to fade, and we were thinking about calling it. After we checked through coms, what the other was thinking, i told him to wait, as we still had about a half hour of legal light left, we decided to stick around, and enjoy the quiet, before heading home.

i never would have catured the following events, he we mot, and had Ed turned of the VOX settoing on his two way.

As i'm sitting there, filming a squrrel playing a couple trees over, I hear a soft beep through my ear piece. i look over, and I see the light of a cell phone, and hear Ed answer it. Turns out it was his wife. I only heard one side of the conversation, but it was a good on, judging by his replies. then I saw movement in the brush under him, and moved the camera to pick it up.

As he's talking with his wife, which the camera mike is also picking up BTW, a doe walks out, right under the stand, stops, and looks up. Then a second one does the same, followed, as soon as they moved on, by a nice 8 point.

All three of them stopped, sniffed the air, and looked right up at him, as he's talking with his wife, and just doesn't even look down. that's all he would have had to do, to see them. by this point, my lip is bleeding, as I'm trying not to LMAO, and blow the shot. I wanted to see how this played out. I even locked the camera in it's pracket on the rail, and slid my shotgun up to the rail, but I just could not keep still enough for a shot, between watching the looks on the faces of those deer, and hearing the half of the conversation i was getting.

Shortly after that, the deer moved on, and ed hing up. he then called it, and climbed down, took the gear from me, and then I climbed down. We went to his BIL's barn, pulled down my deer, and I checked my messages, which let me know I was needed at his place, to help his dad process his buck, so we loaded up, and left.

once we had all 3 between mine and his dad's two, I went in, pulled the memory card, and sat down at his sister's computer, to pre-screen for an edit. Soon enough, I got to Ed's hunt, and called over his family. Including him and his wife.

never saw a couple turn so red in my life. must have been one hell of a conversation for that end result. :D

After everyone, especially Ed, got their laughs over it, I looked right at him, and said, :"next time, hang up and hunt." At that point, he asked me why i didn't shoot. My reply:

"I was too busy LMFAO. I couldn't hold still enough to get a shot, without risking hitting you. that buck, as you can see in the video, was close enough to chew on your boot laces. tyhe bigger doe was even closer."

"i didn't hear you laughing, otherwise, i would have looked."

that's when I pulled down my lower lip, and showed him the bite mark.

We did this for a couple years, but it never really caught on. I still have the master discs from the shoots, and enough bloopers and bonus stuff to make a package of it, and we wound up giving copies of them to family and friends aor Chritmas each year.

When Youtube came out, we even considered a channel on it, but I'm glad we didn't with recent events. it was fun, we had about a dozen of us, filming real hunts, no BS, only show it when the big deer comes out, shooting for mass, or anything along those lines. Also made a few target practice sessions recordings in that time. We had a lot of fun doing it, and to us, that's what mattered.

Ed gpot even two years later, when he filmed a hunt in my back yard, where I lived in NY. All i am going to say about that one is, it involved the apple orchard in the back of the property, four arrows, four clean misses, with the buck I was shooting at, sticking around until sunset.

it's not that I didn't practice from elevation, I just didn't practice from the right elevation.

And I'm still convinced, had I had one more arrow with me, I wouild have had him on the next shot. Each time I fired, he'd take a few steps, look around, and go right back to browsing.

As a result, I now practice from the stand.
 

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Back a few years to the time when we had students from the Republic of Sarth Efrica, namely, a couple of Air Force intell students. One of them that I'll call Rian, was a very keen shooter, and living in the Natal Highlands when he wasn't on duty, he'd be out every day he could on the high veldt shooting stuff to feed his father's stock crews. Suffice it to say that being stuck in UK for twelve weeks was less than fun for him, and he was getting cabin fever, to say the least. I took him range shooting a couple of times, but it wasn't the same, even though I had a couple of real African rifles with real history, one of them with his own Boer people.

Enter our USAF exchange officer, one of the finest people I'd met in my life at the time. He was from Wyoming - big sheep country - and he made the promise that he and Rian would go off some day and bag themselves a nice big Dall ram.

Well Rian went back to RSA, and my USAAF pal went back to wherever he went to, and I forgot all about it for a couple of years.

Then, totally out of the blue, I got a phone call from my American buddy, back on TDY in UK for a couple of weeks and itching to tell me what he called the 'best hunting story' I'd ever heard.

Well, we met up over in the O club of a neary US airbase here in UK, and I got to hear the skinny on this hunt. This is what he told me - First of all [he said] I wasn't there, but my brother-in-law was the hunt jefé, with four others, and Rian. All on horses, of course. On the third day out, the boss-man, about 3-400 yards ahead, spotted a good head ram about half-way up a draw which was probably accessible if you were pretty determined, and offered Rian, the Uitlander guest, the first shot.

What happened next was so totally unexpected that it will probably still be talked about as long as anybody there is still alive, but it seems that Rian leaned forward, planted his fist on his horse's head, right between the ears, and lining up on the Dall about 400 yards away, by the simple expedient of placing the forend on his fist, cut loose a shot from the 7mm Remington Magnum rifle he'd been loaned for the hunt.

The horse jumped straight off the ground with all four legs, about five feet, 'tis said, and ejected a stream of horse-s*** about twenty feet along the trail, before dumping the surprised Rian on the trail and taking off for points East.

What the *** was THAT about??? - screamed the boss - why didn't you get off and take the shot from that log? You've just ruined one of my best horses with your stupidity, you dumb Dutchman!!!! And so on....... It took three hours to find the horse, and another couple of hours to calm it down and make camp for the night.

To cut a long story short, Rian had a good excuse for his 'method' as he called it. He assumed, wrongly, as it turned out, that horses over in the USA used for hunting were used to gunfire in close proximity, although that 'close proximity' was actually between the ears of the animal in question. Back home in Efrica, he said, all the family horses were stone deaf, having been taken out and 'shot over' as soon as they were broken in, beginning with .22 and ending up with more aggressive items of shootery, like his own .375 H&H. His own twenty-year old mare, called 'Frootjie', only responded to heels, thigh pressure or a need to eat. She would not have noticed, he remarked, if a bomb had gone off beside her, especially if she had been eating at the time.

tac
 

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Back in 2002, I was dating an old friend (And yes, she and I are still friends, and my wife and I are on her client list, at her vet clinic, as she and her family are also on mine, for the bike repair business), and we had both taken opening day of the NY firearms deer season, off, and headed up to her parant's place to hunt. Her parents were alos up there, and both filled tags early, so they went back to the house, to hang the deer they had gotten, for processing later that night.

As we had gone in the woods at about 04:00 Hours, and been in there for about 5 hours, we decided to head in, and have an early lunch, then get back out about 10:30, so we would be back in, and settled when the city hunters were heading out around 12;00 to 13:00, to go into town, and eat, so we would be ready, if they spooked anything back our way. As we entered the house, we leaned the shotguns up against the wall in the entryway, off the garage, where they would stay at the same temp as they were outside, to prevent condensation. Both of us were carrying stainless revolvers, her, and SP101, me my 686, and kept them on in the house.

We sat and visited with mom and dad, had a bowl of soup and a sandwich, as well as a couple cups of coffee. Then, we both decided to hit the head, before going back out, and I went up first, then came back down the stairs, and went back into the kitchen to finish my cup. At that point, she went up.

Now, they owned (they have moved to PA recently, and sold both NY properties) a decent sized chunk of land, about 300 acres, mostly woods, with some open fields, and apsture land, and it was not uncommon to see deeer wanding in the pastures, with the horses, or coming right up off the back porch. As I sat there with my coffee, I looked over at the window, and saw an nice 8 point, checking out the garden, about 15 yards off the back porch. her mother went over to the window, looked out, and started to open it, motioning to me, so I set my cup of coffee down, got up, and walked over to the window.

Aparently, they had no problem with someone leaning out, using the frame as a rest, and taking a shot, so I figured, "what the hell?"

As she started to lift the window, we heard a shot go off, and saw that buck jump. Shannon, from the upstairs bathroom window. Then, the fun started.

The next thing we saw was her falling out of the bathroom window. Thermals and jeans part way down, straight into the snowdrift, along the side of the back porch.

Apparently, she saw the buck looking over towards the kitchen window, while standing up, about to flush and put herself back together, and decided she wasn't going to risk it taking off, so she slid the window up, while pulling her pants back up, leaned out the window a bit, enough to stabilize the shot, and found that she didn't have a good shot from that angle. So she leaned out a bit further, at that point.

And right after taking the shot, her boot slipped on the linoleum on the bathroom floor, and out she went. And man was she thankful for that drift that hadn't frozen yet, when she landed. All she got was a couple scrapes and bruises from the landing (thank God!), which did kind of lead to a side story from this one, a few days later.

The buck, She got it right through the LH lung, and the heart, not quite DRT, but it only ran about 30 yards, and dropped. Dressed him out, and hung him up, and we went back out that afternoon. I got a decent doe around 16:00 Hours, and we dragged her back, then got to work on skinning and quartering what we had shot, to spend the next day processing them.

And we still get a laugh out of that day, 16 years later.

Now, the side story.

She got some scratches and a bot of bruising, along her left cheek, and one of her co-workers, joking of course, looked at me, when I was there getting a checkup done on my mother's Yorkies, asked here if I had done it. without missing a beat, i looked over at him, and said:

"Now C, you know for a fact that I didn't. I'm standing right here, and I'm still breathing."

His reply: "oh, that's right. Her father was there."

Mine: "he only would have gotten to me, IF she left anything for him."

To put things in scale, Shannon goes about 110, soaking wet, in full hunting gear, and is right at the 5 foot mark. Her mother is a short Sicillian woman (She and her dad meet while he was over in Germany, back in the early 60's), and her dad looks like a blond version of Hagrid from the Harry Potter series. Everyone thinks he's the one you need to be afraid of.

Until they meet her mother, or her.

I have known the three of them for close to 30 years. I've seen dad p***ed off a few times (never at me), mom once, and Shannon a couple times. Luckily, never at me. her soon to be husband, who I have also know for a long time, hell, I set them up on a double date, with me and my wife, a few years back, still hasn't seen that side of her.

And I told him to pray he never does. She has dad's temperment, but, if you p*** her off, she has mom's rage.
 

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On a recent hog hunt our guide had the misfortune of having to bunk with us. We didnt have any flashbangs so we turned up my ipod ( with Lamb of God blaring ) and slid it on the tile under the door and it lodged under his bed. 5 am in Texas my buddy and I are convulsing on the floor laughing. What a way to start a day in the woods.
 

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The first grouse I ever killed scared me worse than I scared it.

That day in particular I killed a black bear and after getting it all skinned out and demeated, I decided to go for a woods walk to see what small game I could flush. I for some reason swapped out my IC choke for a x full turkey. Upon coming within 10 feet of the bird he flushed and screamed bloody murder. I just about got the gun up to my hip, fired, and about took his head off with not a pellet in the breast.
I think it stands out as my all time favorite meal, cooked it on the woodstove with olive oil, salt and pepper.
 

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The one that stands out for me and my Dad that we still get a chuckle from 35 years later was when I was about 13 or 14. We were rabbit hunting but squirrel season was still in so if we saw one it was fair game. My Dad put me at the end of this long draw and he went to the other end and tried to come down it to flush rabbits down the draw for me to shoot as they came out. No rabbits showed up but while I was waiting for my Dad, I saw a big fox squirrel hopping along the field edge about 50 yards away. I took a shot at it with my shotgun and watched it run up into this old dead tree. When my Dad got to my location, he asked me what I shot at. I told him about the squirrel and told him I thought I missed. He said that I likely missed because the distance was too far for the shotgun. Anyway, since there was some snow on, Dad said lets go down and track it in the snow and see if there was any blood. We went down and found the tracks and sure enough there was blood in the snow beside the tracks. We followed the tracks to the tree and about 8 feet or so off of the ground was a hole in this old dead tree that the blood led to. Dad said to climb up there and look in the hole as the squirrel is probably dead in there. I climbed up there and the squirrel was in the hole but very much alive. My Dad was using a Savage 20 gauge and .22 combo gun. He handed me his gun and said to shoot the squirrel with the .22 barrel. Hanging onto the side of the tree 8 feet up, I couldn't exactly aim properly but I shot into the hole at the squirrel's head. The squirrel flopped around in the hole for about 15 seconds and then all was silent. I handed the gun back down to my Dad and attempted to reach in the hole to get the squirrel. The hole was pretty small so I had to try and make it bigger to get my arm in far enough to get the squirrel. Since the tree was dead and starting to rot, I was able to just get a hold of the edge of the hole and break off a chunk of the tree to make the hole bigger. When I did this, the squirrel, which turned out to not be dead, decided to try and make his getaway. Somehow (young reflexes I guess) I managed to break off a small branch with my left hand and pin the squirrel to the edge of the hole just before he hit me in the face. As I am precariously balanced in this tree 8 feet up holding a wounded squirrel down with a stick, my Dad loses it and starts laughing. He then starts singing the squirrel went berserk in the tune of the Mississippi Squirrel Revival by Ray Stevens. Meanwhile the squirrel is still trying to escape and, I'm convinced anyway, is dead set on chewing my face off. As my Dad is having his fun, I am yelling at him "Shut up and give me the gun!" He finally gives me the 20 gauge .22 combo gun back and I shoot and kill the squirrel with the .22. Turns out the first .22 round had just grazed the top of the squirrel's nose and set him crazy which we misinterpreted as it flopping around dying from a head shot. We still laugh about that hunt to this day.
 
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I was just turned 4 years old when I went on my first hunt.

My Pop took a job working for a core sample drilling company,,,
My grandfather was a field supervisor and hired relatives as a rule,,,
So we moved onto Drummond Island off the tip of upper peninsula Michigan.

There was only one real business on the island,,,
Soonie Buck (I'm probably misspelling the name) owned the restaurant, bar, general store, and post office.

The first day on the island and my Papa, great uncle Banty, and my Pop went to the bar,,,
There was a ton of taxidermy on the walls but what caught my eyes were the Jackalopes.

They told me they lived on the island and at night they came out and chased people,,,
They said that was the reason all the men wore engineer boots,,,
To protect their ankles from those antlers.

I had just got my first Daisy BB rifle,,,
Pop said I could hunt for jackalopes that night.

So as soon as it got dark they set me on the picnic table at the trailer camp,,,
I had a blanket, my trusty Daisy, a flashlight, and a kids thermos of hot chocolate.

Did I mention it was November.

I remember searching the tree line hoping to shoot one of those elusive critters,,,
I didn't know that the men were all sitting at the kitchen table,,,
Drinking beer and laughing their arses off at me.

I was out there for a looooooong time before Mom finally made them bring me in,,,
They let me hunt a few more nights before they finally told me the truth.

I loved my Papa, my Pop, and Uncle Banty dearly,,,
But I never quite trusted them again.

Aarond

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Years ago my mate and my b-I-l and I were pig hunting up on the border of New South Wales and Queensland. We went out 1 night spotlighting and come across a mob of pigs so we gave chase in the 4wd with my b-I-l in the back with me and my mate driving.

We chased this mob for a bit and laid into them with the 12g shotgun pump action and knocked over a fair few in the mob.
The b-I-l hit the lead boar with the shotgun with a load of SG's but to far back to kill it but it was still very mobile but was dragging it's back legs and the shotgun had run out of shells so the b-I-l unshouldered his .270.
We tapped on the roof and the mate stopped jumped out of the 4wd and yelled out that he'd finish the pig off with the shotgun. The b-I-l and tried to tell him that the shotgun was out of shells but he kept cutting us off and raced to the pig that had now stopped and was facing us and very pissed off as it was now starting to woof and click it's grinders.

The b-I-l turned to me and asked what were we going to do but I said let's just sit back and see what happens but have that .270 ready. I also had my Parker Hale .303 ready.

We stood there and watched events unravel as the mate walked up to the pig jacked a shell or so he thought into the chamber hit the trigger and was met with a "CLICK" so he jacked another "shell" in and hit the trigger and was met with another "CLICK" ............................ it was now that there was a few seconds of silence as the mate looked at the gun and then the pig who was getting real pissed off now and then the pig decided enough was enough and charged my mate who now had decided that a tactical withdrawal to the 4wd was a real good idea.

Even though the pig was dragging it's rear end it was giving it's best and wasn't that far behind my mate who was swearing at us to shoot the pig while looking over his shoulder to see where the pig was but my b-I-l and I were in tears from laughing so hard that we were totally useless.
I must add here that my mate was born with 1 leg a bit shorter than the other due to his femur wasn't sitting properly in the socket so for him to run was like watching a 3 legged racehorse in action but in his defence with a very pissed off pig right behind him he would've done Usain Bolt over the 1/4.

The mate basically pole vaults into the back of the 4wd breathless and calling us for all the names under the Sun but we were still laughing that hard.
In the end we recovered enough and I had to grab the .303 and finish the pig off as it was now attacking the rear tyre on the 4wd.
1 shot at point blank range from the .303 did the job and then the mate started on us as to why we didn't tell him that the shotty wasn't loaded to which we said that we tried to but you wouldn't listen soooooo....................:D
 
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Last year I was hunting black bear in a remote section of Western Maine- in the White Mountain National Forest. I wasn’t hunting over dogs or bait- just spot and shoot while scouting for moose for a guy I know. All of a sudden I just start hearing a really heavy breathing in the distance- but I can’t see anything. It starts getting closer and I know that I somehow got too close to an angry sow. All of a sudden I hear it right behind me and, terrified (as I, thankfully, had never been too close to a living bear before) pulled back the hammer on my lever gun and got ready to empty the mag tube. Turn around- there’s just an adorable little bear hunting dog sitting there. He comes up to me wagging his tail, I pet his head and he just walks off as if he didn’t almost just get shot.


Also, a good friend of mine was/is a master bear hunting guide here in Maine. He used to hunt with another guide who had a 44 mag (I believe it was a Super Blackhawk) with bear bites all over the barrel. He used to get the bears into trees and then climb up the tree after the bear and get so close that the bear would bite onto the gun- then he’d shoot it through the mouth. That guy holds like 4-5 of the 10 largest bears ever killed in the state of Maine, or he at least did at one point.
 

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Also, a good friend of mine was/is a master bear hunting guide here in Maine. He used to hunt with another guide who had a 44 mag (I believe it was a Super Blackhawk) with bear bites all over the barrel. He used to get the bears into trees and then climb up the tree after the bear and get so close that the bear would bite onto the gun- then he’d shoot it through the mouth. That guy holds like 4-5 of the 10 largest bears ever killed in the state of Maine, or he at least did at one point.
Strange folk, up in Maine, I'm tellin' ya. Dang. "Bad breath" distance is one thing. "Bear bite-mark" distance, though? Dang.
 

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My old friend I learned pred hunting from use to write stories about him and I for magazines etc... I'm Terry, he is Guy.... COPY/PASTE his story below.




Out fox hunting one night, Terry and I found our selves sitting in the truck trying to see down an old abandoned railroad bed. The ties and tracks had been removed, leaving a trail of what looked like crushed coal, about, maybe three or four feet wide, with thick brush on each side, leaving not much room between hunter and predator.



We had hunted every farm field, hedgerow, laneway, and woodlot in three counties that night to no avail... Always trying to expand our hunting grounds, the old railroad bed felt like we might be achieving that goal. So there we sat… with motor running, trying to convince each other that this was a good idea, that this spot was going to yield fox, expand our fox hunting grounds without leaving our own zip code. Fox were just… gona, come-a running. “…Huh?”



Leaving the safety of the truck behind… into the unknown we went. It quickly became apparent; that this was probably not the grandest idea we have ever had. Not the safest place you’d ever want to be. Cautiously moving down that old railroad bed left an awkward quality to the air, an uneasy feeling deep in your gut… “It’s tight in here,” I said. “Yeah.” Terry replied.



Now it is not at all unusual for Terry to respond with single, syllable words. It was rather common. But not like this. His, “yeah,” was almost broken, or like a record (album) being played backwards with hidden messages. Like, “yeah,” maybe we should get the hell out of here!” But, thinking it must be me; just being paranoid… on we went.



We had moved about twenty yards or so from the edge of road. The scenery wasn’t changing and with no-way to really get against something that might hide our silhouette, we at least felt confident that being so close to the road, nothing was going to sneak in behind us. We placed the caller in the middle of the trail, hit the play button, and stood about ten feet in front of it.



The sounds of a gray fox pup in distress suddenly enveloped the night air, as I quickly turned my fox light on. We only needed one gun, and it was my turn to shoot. So Terry stood behind me, and would use a white light to spot any fox that was shot, to make sure it was down. A practice we would always utilize to help insure no wounded fox would get away and suffer.



The call had only been running two or three minutes when I spotted a set of eyes about seventy yards out and quickly closing the distance. “We got one,” I whispered to Terry. At that moment a second fox came barreling out of the hedge row about twenty feet in front of me and on a dead run. Having no time to respond, all I could do was jump up, and the second fox ran right between my legs.



That’s when it happened. That’s when I heard this, desperate screech behind me, “I’m Hit!” “What?” I asked. The first fox was on top of me; so I had no time to turn around and see what was wrong. I quickly pulled my shotgun up and shot the first fox. The report from the shotgun hadn’t even had time to echo when a third fox ran out of the hedgerow about fifteen yards away and running full tilt boogie right at me.



For the second time that night I had to jump out of the way of a fox on methamphetamines. And for the second time that night I heard a desperate cry behind me… “I’m run over!” Fearing another fox might be barreling towards me, I reluctantly turned around to see what was wrong, and their Terry was, lying on the ground. After several seconds of staring at him with the confused puppy look I was like, “Terry, what the hell you down there for?!”



The angry glare I got next would make even the devil turn tail and run. “What do you think I’m doing down here you idiot? You keep throwing god dam fox at me!”

I had all I could do, to not break out laughing as Terry slowly got to his feet,
 
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The only thing I got in the 2019 hunting season was stuck in the mud- parts of Maine are all limestone clay, and I was the dummy who didn’t feel like backing out of the power line- I thought I’d make it through the clay easy to the area where I could turn around- cost me $250 for an off-road tow truck to come.
 

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The story begins in Texas, bout 30 miles South of Childress TX. on our Hunting Lease. My Buddy Big Mike had found a view point on a small ridge over looking the valley. An excellent spot to view for Deer or Pigs. So he found a Fence Line on the ridge and set down with his back against the fence and got comfortable. Big Mike is a big man around 6' 4" tall and right at 300 Lbs. Which makes what happen even funnier! He had set there for some time and finally dozed off for a little nap since the Sun warmed him up. So he laid his rifle on the ground by him and dozed off. As he was setting there on the ground sleeping, all of a sudden he felt something crawling across his Lap. In utter shock of what felt like something on his Lap he jumped and screamed "Oh My God"! At that time it was an Armadillo that had been walking long the Fence Line and Big Mike just happened to be in line with his direction of travel. As Mike shouted and attempted to jump up, the Armadillo jumped straight up in the air. And Big Mike stated it was looking at me Face to Face! Then the Armadillo as soon as it returned to the level ran off of Big Mike's Lap. I do not know if Big Mike wet his pants or not but we had a few drinks and laughed until we cried around the Camp Fire by or Cabin that evening.
So our Cabin bears a dedication reminder to Big Mike and the Armadillo's experience!
Fixture Window Door Wood Rectangle


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