Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire I know Your not scared....but....

....I know your not scared, after all, us big bad hunters brave all to go afield, armed and dangerous, the ultimate predator.....<P>....but what was the closest you came to being really scared,...... ya know, crapping in your pants scared! <P>...For me, it was an Alaskan Bear hunt. On the third week, we were 100 miles up the Yukon, and I was exploring an old mine I saw on the map. It got late on me, and because I had tagged earlier that morning, I was doping a little sight seeing. As darkness closed in, I was still a long way from camp, so I started to run down the trail towards the river. Suddenly I saw a big dark spot in the trail....A BEAR. No, no, it's alright, only two cubs after closer inspection. As I was admiring them, The bushes behind me exploded with crashing and loud roaring!!!!!!!.....after crapping in my pants, I began to haul butt right through the cubs in front of me, as it was thick as blue blazes off the trail,...so in high gear I went! After probably ten minutes as hard as I could go, I stopped to listen, by now it was too dark to see anything, (did I mention I was un-armed at the time!) and I was hearing crap all around me, so hauled butt again!!! I stopped after a time to listen, by then I had the heebee geebees and was hearing stuff in all directions, freaking out, I knew it was mostly my imagination, but I had just read the book on Alaskan bear attacks before I left for this trip. Imagination or not, I was taking no chances, so I hauled butt until I hit the Yukon River, where we were base camped. My brother had a good laugh, as did I after the fact.<P>Two things I didn't do after that....get caught out after dark in the thick brush the bears called home, and get caught away from camp un-armed even when not hunting! <P>Now I know you guys can do better than a little crapping in the britches bear story .............<BR>DS

First time we took incoming fire going into a hot LZ to extract wounded troops. Nobody seemed to notice I peed my pants while returning fire, but I pretended I didn't either when anybody else did. That was the scariest moment in my young life!<P>------------------<BR><B>T LEE</B><BR>Remember: There is no such thing as OVERKILL. Just a generous margin of SAFETY! <P><B>APATHY!.........Freedoms greatest enemy!</B><P><p>[This message has been edited by T LEE (edited June 07, 2001).]

Well I've never been in combat, and never been out west to hunt the real nasties with teeth, but I almost S$#T myself when working through thick brush and almost stepped on a timber rattler. Sucker didn't make a sound until my foot was about on his head. He sure was good eating though

I was about twelve or fourteen years old when Grandmaw's dog went missing. Looked all over for that dog. Finally crawled under her house looking. Found the dog. It was rabid. Fortunately there was a broken off garden hoe under there and I grabbed it and held off the dog until I could un crawl the house. Also fortunately the dog was pretty well gone too. To this day I have to nerve myself up to crawl into a place I can't see the end of.<BR>BCR

Bears, snakes, rabid dogs, war. All minor league stuff. Have any of you guys ever had an MRI? I am claustrophobic and that is the scariest thing I have ever done. The bad thing is you know you have to do it and there is no way out! TM

Travelingman, -- I have been in the tunnel, wasn't bad at first but after about 30 minutes it starts to get smaller. A pill helps. -- no<P>------------------<BR>A hint to the wise is sufficient! Smiles are contagious, infect everyone!

I been in there too. Wasn't bad cause I could see through it. The tech kept asking me how I was doing. I told the tech when they slid me out that I didn't like it cause the music was bad and there wasn't any room to dance.<BR>BCR

I think the most scared I ever got was when I turned 40 and had to go in for my first colonoscopy. I wanted to **** my pants but they had told me to take a double enema before the appointment, so they could see easier! <BR>I told that doctor that if he ever came after me with that damned scope again, he better have an engagement ring in his pocket! <BR>Come to think of it, I turn 50 in about a year and a half and I have to go through it all over again. DAMN!!! - Sheister

I **** in my pants when I was shot at during a hunting trip a few years ago. I was wearing an orange vest and hat. I was alone, and heard a shot go off somewhere close by. Then another, the third shot chipped the bark above my head. Didn't know the other 2 were aimed at me. I just hit the deck, shucked my orange and crawled out of there. I never saw who was shooting...unfortunately. After I reported it to the Rangers, I was told that folks in that area didn't consider the land public.

I'been to "Max Pucker Factor" twice. First time when I was in the Army. We were on a night mission with a duece and a half among the gorges at Yakima Firing Center in WA. My buddy was driving like h###, trying to catch the guy in front of us, who had night vision goggles. Gonzo was off the road more than on it. All through the ride I had visions of us rolling down into the gorge, and the little white crosses they put at the spot of a fatal training accident. <P>Second time came in a racecar at a local dirt track. I was leading the pack out of turn 2 when the car got loose and went out from under me. I ended up sideways in the middle of the backstretch, with 20 cars bearing down on me. Got smacked in the drivers door... HARD! Knocked me off spinning through the infield, but never hurt me or the car. Thank God for the steel side bars in the roll cage. If not for them I'd probably not be here.<BR>7mmbuster

...Hot digety Dog!...I love these accounts of the "brown britches"! <BR>....never thought of the war aspect of it, and hope you guys that served don't think I was putting a little ol' bear incident in the same light as trying to be assinated while serving your country in hostile territory!...I wanna salute each and everyone of you who served right now!...SAAAAALLLLUUUUTTTEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!<BR>....fortunately, at 39, I've missed all that carnage, and just pray my two teenage sons will be as lucky!<P>......MRI's, rabid dogs, being shot at while hunting, the dirt track.....man, we're really covering the gamut here!...<BR>....keep 'em coming fellas!<BR>DS

In my 62 years, the only time I was really physically scared, was when I had to teach my wife, a Honduran mountain gal, how to drive. She was 45 years old and had never been behind the wheel. After she got her license I never rode with her again. You just get so many chances. Another time I was a little shaky, riding in a taxi in Honduras, late at night, in the mountains with a drunk (of course) taxi driver. (Wide open with the radio going full blast for about 60 miles, 30 of them on gravel and dirt roads.) If you have been to Central America you know what I mean. I was sober so I was paying attention. After that, I rented cars when I wanted to go somewhere. Live and learn.

When I was twelve, I took scuba diving lessons. The movie "Jaws" was just released, and I went to see it the night before my first saltwater dive. Of course, I had to go out into the deep water, after being told to stay closer to shore. I'm swimming along, down about thirty feet, thinking about that giant shark when something huge and gray swims past me from behind, fast, missing me by inches. I pinch a loaf in my wet suit, then open my eyes and see this smart azz gray seal, I swear he was laughing.

Fire fights in I Corps are the most frightening thing that I have endured but there was another time that I thought I was seeing the end. <P>I had climbed a Colorado fourteener and was descending a scree filled gully. Suddenly I slipped and started sliding down the gully along with all the scree. I came to a stop on a slab of ice about a foot from the edge of a waterfall. I could hear the little pebbles crash and break on the rocks below, but when I looked all I saw was a black hole. I was precariously perched on the ice and I could hear the water trickling over the edge and onto to the rocks. <P>Every time I tried to move my boots began to slip down the ice towards the edge. I reached for a rock about the size of a golf ball that was lodged in the ice and it came loose. I began sliding again and I put two fingers in the hole left by the rock. That stopped my slide temporarily. I pulled out a pocket knife, opened the blade with my teeth and jammed it into the ice like an ice pick. I started kicking into the ice and was able to move to the edge of the gully where there was a vertical wall about 20 feet high. <P>I had to climb that wall and I knew that if I fell I would hit the ice and slide over the edge to my death. Slowly I inched upwards and eventually I made the top and slipped over the rim. My heart was racing with adrenilin and I sat there for a long time fully aware of what I had escaped. I will never forget that day.<P>KC

I was fishing on the Jumping Pound creek,one of my favorite spring creeks.In all the times I've fished it I have never seen a bear or any sign of one,ever.This particular evening I was making a sneak on one of the better pools.The opposite side was a verticle rock wall,my side was willow with a game trail going through it.As I crouched along the trail I came face to face with a black bear,I could have touched its nose with my fly rod.The bear woofed I crapped my drawers and we both crashed through the willows in opposite directions.

Mag Freak....another Bear sighting, brown britches inccident,huh....at least I ain't alone! <BR>DS

I was seven years old, walking by a shallow creek. There was a garden snake trying to swallow a frog that was "just" too large. I moved close, pulled out my "2-shot pistol" from my pants, and "peed" on both. My aim was true, so I hit the snake right in the head. As soon as the urine touched the snake, it uncoiled from the frog, and whipped in my direction like a lightning bolt, hatred in its little eyes.<P>I jumped away in fright, pistol still in hand, and ran like hell. I turned my head to look back, and the snake was still moving after me by the edge of the water. I ran faster, and left the little snake in a cloud of sand, but you won't believe how scared I was. It was good I "peed" first? We...I am not too sure about that. The second story is a little different, because I was so scared I froze in place.<BR>----------------<BR>When I was around 10, for some reason I decided to attended a funeral of an old timer I knew. There I was, looking at the old timer's cotton-filled nostrils up close, and that's what I was thinking of when walking home in the dark of night.<P>I was walking by my best friend's home, next to some tall hedges, and out of there he jumps and screams "BOOOOOO!"<P>Time stood still, no pee, no poop, I just froze! Any body hair I may have had at that age was standing straight, and I lost my voice. With shaking legs I managed to walk away. The fear in my eyes probably scared my friend just as much, because he just walked back to his house without saying a word. We never talked about this event ever, but I still remember it like it was yesterday.<p>[This message has been edited by Ray (edited June 09, 2001).]

......Ray....You ****ed on a snake!?!??!!??!.......heck, I don't blame that serpent for chasing your butt! <BR>DS

Yep. And I learned very fast. The next time I bothered another garden snake was by throwing river sand at it... from afar, of course. It was good the first one was not a rattler, or a spitting cobra...He...he

There's something wrong with me. I've never felt the kind of momentary fear that you're all describing � not even in situations where I'm sure you'd all agree that any normal person would be scared spitless and have no need to apologize for his "weakness."<P>I did, however, live for many years in a deep, constant fear of being a coward (and showing it) when death eventually stood right in my face. Unconsciously and perversely, I sought (as I realized only much later) death-daring situations, to the point of stupidity.<P>All that fear washed away in an instant on the afternoon of 4 August 1958 when a trophy-size brownie on Kodiak bashed me around a bit, and I lay there fully conscious and fully aware that I was "dying." My only negative emotion was concern for the anguish my mother and dad would feel. When I realized I wasn't dying, my next thought was what a story it'd make. (The Editor of Outdoor Life turned it down because, he said, there was no interest in a bear-and-man set-to that the man survived without being maimed for life.) The five men who witnessed that little adventure were wide-eyed for hours and treated me like something unexplainable.<P>I wish I could describe the infinite peace that followed the realization that I'd been "dying" (as far as I knew) and hadn't felt or shown yellow. That's why the afternoon of 4 August 1958 is still so precious to me.<P>I've climbed rock cliffs in the high country, alone and without any kind of climbing gear. Got into some right sweaty spots up there, too. With a friend equally foolish handling the boat, I've caught an alligator by hand (about 6' to 8'), using a board and baling wire to pull it into the boat and keep its jaw shut. I've had an ocelot chewing on my shoulder and clawing at my belly. I've been in the middle of a caribou stampede (have a bunch of slides from that one). I've slid into my bunk in a dark cabin and felt a snake crawling up alongside my thigh. Walking home one night, I had a gun stuck in my face.<P>Without bravery being any part of it, I simply felt no conscious sense of fear in any of these and other tight situations. I can neither explain it nor feel proud of it. I dealt with each situation calmly, according to witnesses � and even stranger still, didn't get shaky afterward. This is not normal.<P>But I think that open or impending combat, either WW I trench style or 'Nam no-front-line style, would shiver me to jelly. I stand in awe of everyone standing in a landing craft, for example, in water above his ankles and with his buddies' vomit on his back (as his is on the back of the man in front of him), with a layer of community vomit topping the water lapping their legs.<P>I can't imagine not being skivvy-soiling scared in the solid dark of a Guadalcanal night (as a friend of mine was), lying just inside the lip of a shell or bomb crater, "looking" over the edge, knowing that the enemy was only feet and even inches away in the dark, and hearing light rustlings in the brush (Japs? Mice? Snakes?).<P>Crawling into a worm-size 'Cong tunnel has to be one of the scariest things I can imagine. But I can only imagine (having never felt) the kind of fear that soils skivvies and runs yellow down one's legs.<P>Something's just not there where it should be in my makeup, and I don't honestly know what to think about that.<BR>