On another forum I frequent there is a thread of unusual or scary hunting/outdoor experiences. Everything from bear encounters to walking up on satanic rituals have been covered, with some paranormal stuff I'm a little skeptical of thrown in. It's actually been one of the best threads I've read in a long time, so I thought I'd start one along the same lines over here. I know you guys have some good ones to share, so fire away!

You would never be able to guess in a thousand years. If I told the story I'd be called a bald face liar. But, if I ever get to Corpus Christi and get newspaper proof, I will relate the most amazing story you almost could ever imagine.

Corpus Christi Caller - Oct 1986. On a Sunday.

I had a 500 lb Black Bear walk up within about 12 ft of me while I was putting out a bucket of corn and molasses prior to deer season.

He was so close I could see his eyelashes, and since I was squatting down, we were at the same eye level

He got that close before we could see each other, and he just stopped and stared for about 30 seconds before backing up and making a wide arc around me about 40 ft away.

I kept him in sight for close to 15 minutes, and I don't think he ever realized what I was, since the wind was in my favor.

He just knew something wasn't quite right, but since I never moved, he didn't spook

All right

Eyeball, I would call that a tease

I wasn't hunting at the time but a car load of us saw a hen woodcock pick up and fly off with one of her chicks a few yards and then came back and did it again with another one.

Hunting in the Shawnee at a place called Oakwood Bottoms. 3am in the tent. Heard an odd, electric sound, more of a hum than anything, coming from the east across the bluffs. Perfectly star-lit night with a nearly 3/4 moon and great visibility. As it got closer, it was making a throbbing sound. The hum would get soft and then get loud very rhythmically. Not an engine. Oddly, it seemed to pass straight overhead, but neither my hunting buddy or me could see it blot out any stars. It was passing really slowly based on the sound, but whatever it was, it didn't blacken the sky though it seemed like it was only a few hundred feet up. Oddest thing I've ever heard. Perhaps it was a stealth helicopter or something, but the throbbing sound didn't seem right.

Paulatuk N.W.T. in 1988 on a Muskox hunt. Our boat was overloaded and the guide swamped it 200 yards from shore. You haven't lived until you've taken a dip in the Arctic Ocean in October wearing pack boots and a parka. It's a damn good thing I was 26 cause I don't think I would make it now.

Mike

I had a mountain lion stalk me once when I was packing out a deer. That was years ago in California.

Think it was a mountain lion briefly purring/growling from the brush when it discovered we were 'not' Turkeys.

That chit blows when you are already down on your ass and don't know exactly where that devil is, glad it left the scene.

It was my senior year in high school. The sun was just rising over the Bolivar Peninsula to the east. I casually watched as a huge diamond-back rattler swam across a small salt-marsh pond and wormed his way into a duck blind occupied by me, a friend and a chocolate lab. We saw the snake coming, but didn't think anything about it until his head appeared at our feet between us. This snake was between 5 and 6 feet long and about as big around as my leg.

The blind platform was a 4' x 6' pallet that we had floored over with a sheet of plywood and there really wasn't room for all four of us. My friend grabbed the dog and bailed out the "door side" and I broke my way out through the the brush stacked at the other end. After some frantic maneuvering in knee-deep mud and water, we managed to get a clear shot at the head and dispatched the intruder. Took a while for our pulses to return to normal.

I was 13, not of age for a license, but working a colt and went elk hunting with dad on public land. About a foot of snow. Dad took off across a little park to try to head some elk when they cleared the next timber patch, but my colt was a little goosey,
so I was going easy. Heard a loud buzz, snow kicked up ahead, then the report. Twice more, once underneath. Hollered LOUD and
bucked and ran for timber. Don't know how far off the shooter was, but glad he missed. How a skinny kid on a sorrel horse, all oranged up, resembles an elk, I still don't know.

Idiots abound

Shot a nice little 3x4 mule deer opening morning in 1996 up on the north face of Ellison Mtn outside Meeker, went back to camp, they informed me other hunters in our camp had three bulls down.

Took us a day and a half to get the bulls out, went back for my mule deer and the bears had found him, had a feeding frenzy on him, then buried him in the snow fer a re-dine later.

Pretty spooky looking stuff when you can read all that went on there in the snow.

This wasn't scary, or maybe even that strange, but kind of a neat experience. I was hunting elk and sat down under a tree to rest. There was a stealer's jay sitting on a branch just above and in front of me. We were watching each other. After a while I got my cow call just to see if anything would answer. After hearing me, that jay cocked its head, looked at my intently, then perfectly duplicated the cow call.

Bob's nut sack camel toe during the 2013 24hr hog slaughter.

A few for you.

Hunting in Alaska we flew into the bush, we were camping above tree line and with our spotting scope we could see a few camps a couple of miles away.

We had a front come through and the camp to the north were newbies to the bush. When the wind and rain came they were not close to there camp and it was destroyed. Out of the 3 hunters in the camp 1 survived.

Same camp, up the drainage from our camp there was a airplane with the skeletons still in it.

Same camp, if you were observant you could spot airplane tails sticking out of the trees, again the skeletons were there to view.

Same camp, out air-service, dropped a note to inform us that a hunter to the east had wounded a grizzly bear and it was coming our way. Dumb [bleep] wounded the bear with a 243, while caribou hunting.

We did have a grizzly in our valley that killed another bear and all that was left was the skull. same for a nice caribou. And one of the best looking grizzly bears commanded the Moose i had shot. He had it covered with more dirt and rocks than one could imagine.

I coulda swore I saw an orang pendek. When I went to check him out, I realized it was my ex-mother-in-law. It scared the holy chit outta me.

There is a whole bunch of baloney in your post. Parts of it might be true, most of it isn't. "airplane tails sticking out of the trees, again the skeletons were there to view." Sure there were. Multiple crashes, all with dead bodies abandoned there.

dont try to shoot a hog while you got a chick sucking on your tube snake...

Sure. In Ak folks want to be buried in their planes.

Before daybreak sitting in my climber few yrs back I heard a noise coming thru the trees and all the sudden a big ass owl landed on my gun rest inches from my face. Hearing something in the distance flying torward you in the dark was terrifying to me.....heart was thumping!

I took it that the dude was talking about one wreck/plane. I assume they called it in.

One in the drainage, multiple tailS all full o skeletans

I hunted a private island in Florida for many years accessible only by boat. Other than a hunting lodge nothing else was on the island. I knew the Seminole Indians had visited the island possibly to hunt or have ceremonies of some kind. The owner of the island once took me to a circle deep in the forest with ancient burial mounds & remains of many fires. Many Indian artifacts had been found there & numerous pieces of pottery still existed. The place had obviously been where ancient chiefs or other tribal members were buried & ceremonies conducted. There was an eerie silence with only the wind blowing & I had this weird sensation that ancient spirits were watching me. The owner of the island was very religious & while he allowed the local Seminole tribe to visit each year would not allow the burial mounds to be disturbed. He felt ancients had chosen to bury their dead their & the burial mounds should not be disturbed or remains moved.

1. My father and I once discovered a car buried in a brushpile. He reported it and it had been used in a crime.

2. My uncle and I once had a black bear hang around our campsite in the middle of the night.

3. My brother and I once had a brown bear encounter in AK. We never saw him, but he repeatedly walked on top of our tracks on a trail through thick stuff you couldn't see a foot into.

4. Twice I've had black bears come to my turkey calling, one as big as a couch 12 feet away. The other "only" half that size one step away.

5. Slipped on some ice last March 18 and broke 3 ribs in the fall. Had to walk a half mile to get out of the woods, and my buddy drove me an hour and a half to the hospital not knowing the extent of my injuries. I still feel it when I roll over in bed.

6. In 1993 I rolled my truck when my right wheels slipped off a bank in the wee hours while entering the woods for a turkey hunt. Separated my shoulder.

7. Back when I was a kid I was talking to a guy I knew in the woods, kind of a wild man I was friends with, and a kid with long silky hair walked up. My "friend" said, "You look like a girl. Do you know what I do to girls I find out here?" The kid walked away, as fast as he could.

Whether these fit the strange or scary profile intended by the OP, I don't know. But there they are for what they're worth. I could come up with a couple more if I tried.

Steve.

Was out hunting one day and an engine chip warning light came on.

when i'm hunting the strangest think that happens is i don't kill something.

scary thought.......

When I was a kid about 11, dad, lil sis, and I took a float trip from Austin to Bastrop. On the Colorado river. Was the same week the israelis fought Egypt in 6 day war.

I was in front of John boat as we chugged down river. Somewhere below webberville I see object in water. It is a hand with the fingers barely sticking out above the surface. I begin to turn sheet white! As the hand got closer, I can finally make out it is one of those old playtex dish washing gloves with just enough air trapped in it to float real eerie like!

Scared the bejezzus out of me!!!!! I did t think dad would ever stop laughing!!!!

Back in 76 on a fishing trip in Baja we ran out of ice and had to drink warm beer.

Talk about scary!!!!

Then there was that time in 68 when we forgot the can of gas to get the fire started with.

Oh the humanity!!!!!

I was hunting in some really thick timber one year, when I kept getting a feeling something was watching me. But whenever I turned around, nothing was there.

When I got back to camp that night, I told my buddy about it. He said he ran into some Jews on the mountain. That scared the crap out of me.

Ha. That reminds me of a time in high school a couple of my pals and I took my families boat one Friday pm from Refugio to Rockport and put in. We went through the bays to the intercostal canal and headed toward Galveston. When we got to Mesquite Bay we headed south across it to the chain islands up the coast from Port Aransas and camped in some oyster shell islands near Cedar Bayou which ran a few miles to the Gulf of Mexico where many went by boat to camp and fish the surf. It was a long way to civilization.

On Sunday afternoon a boat approached from the direction of the gulf and ran up on the exposed reef. A few high school kids climbed out begging for water with swollen tongues.

They had ended their beer drinking extravaganza weekend after learning man can not live on beer and hot dogs alone.

Grouse hunting with my dog along a border river between MN and Canada I found the body of a man who was reported missing over the summer by his camping partner. His body had been stuck in the current under a falls, thus eluding the search team. When the water level dropped in October his body had floated out and was hung up along the bank where I found him. He was pretty pasty and swollen, also missing most of his face. His arms were flopping unnaturally in the current, seemingly held onto his body by only his jacket. On the hike back out I didn't feel much like shooting anymore birds. I was a young man and had not seen a dead body in that sort of condition before.

It is a remote area with no vehicle access�.about an 8 mile round trip on nothing more than moose trails. I brought the sheriff's deputy back on foot later that day. A helicopter rescue was then called in to haul him out.

Another time my brother and I were out grouse hunting in the same general area. It had started raining so we decided to head back. As soon as we turned around there was a huge timber wolf with his nose down in our tracks that had been following about 30 feet behind us. When we locked eyes, he immediately jumped off the trail in to the woods. We never saw or heard him again.

Then last deer season, I had a wolf come into my position while still hunting after I did a doe bleat. He came in the first time just upwind and went past me. I tipped the can a few more times and he charged in, right now! As soon he got a little cross wind of me at about 20 feet he locked up and froze. I stuck my head out a little further from behind the tree I was standing behind and he jumped up, did a 180 and ran off. It was neat to experience not only seeing him, but to appreciate his hunting ability and how well they are able to pick the exact location of sounds.

In both instances I only saw one wolf, but wondered how many others were in the general vicinity.

Not much of a story I suppose but very spooky to me. Walked up a mountain in NY on a day deer hunt noting landmarks as I went. No luck. The sun was low and it was time to walk back to the car and started following the landmarks back. About 100 yards into it I had this almost overwhelming urge that I was going the wrong way. I mean a really, REALLY strong feeling I should be going that-a-way. The landmarks no longer looked quite right in the fading light. Forced myself to follow them anyway and ended up back at the car. Nothing looked right until I got within a couple hundred yards of the car and then I wasn't convinced until I spotted it.

Never had anything remotely like that happen before or since. Now I understand how people who don't know what they are doing, and some that do, get lost.

BTDT

A buddy and I went for an Thursday afternoon archery elk hunt. We called in three bulls (no shots) but I did get a shot at a black bear, smacking the tree behind him, right at his back line. He ran off like a scalded cat!
The next evening I packed in the same place for a weekend hunt and while setting up my tent I caught what I suspect was the same bear, sitting down watching me at 15 yards. When we made eye contact I realized my bow was 15' away leaning against a tree, and he wasn't running away! Eventually, he slowly and nonchalantly turned and walked away. I spent a long night imagining sounds outside my tent of the revenge seeking bruin with 6" claws and fangs!

Yea,,, that was 40/50 years ago and I still wake up in a cold sweat occasionally.

One time, back when I was a little feller, my dad took my dog with him to pick hickory nuts. The place he went was open fields with scattered thickets of hickory trees. While in one thicket, he said my dog went nuts, growling, and was so worked up looking at the next thicket about 50 yards away, that his hair was standing on end. Dad looked over at the next thicket, and saw a guy staring back at him. He hollered at him, and asked him if he needed something. When the guy didn't answer, or move, my dad, who was a Captain in the local police dept, went over to check it out. He discovered that the guy had committed suicide, and was hanging from a tree. Turns out the guy had disappeared about a month before, and had been hanging there ever since. The guy was 5'10 in life. When they cut him down, he was over 7 feet.

Having spent nearly all of my life in the woods huning, fishing and camping I have seen many strange/unusual things. With a little time around a campfire (and a little adult beverage encouragment) I could tell tales for hours of what I've seen and done that were at the very least "unusual". Only a few actually involved "fear" but several were quite startling at the time. Some that come to mind are:

While still hunting one fall, the sky opened up and rain fell like being poured from a bucket. I was in an are with many cedar trees and saw one nearby on which the limbs drooped to the ground. I push under the limbs and sat against the trunk of the tree. Thick limbs above shed almost all of the rain and I was quite comfortable. About 10 minutes later there was movement as the limbs across form me moved aside. A small 4 point buck scrambled under the tree and lay down not 3 feet away from me. Once he'd settled down he looked around and when his eyes met mine he froze. A stare-down went on for maybe a minute until he looked out at the rain, then back at me. I know animals shouldn't be given human traits as they don't think like we do, but I swear the look on his face said, "If you'll leave me alone I'll do the same". We sat there for about 30 minutes while the rain continued, then began to slack up. When the downpour was over and just a slow drizzle remained, the buck looked at me, the stood up and pushed through the limbs. He walked slowly away, glancing back a time or two until out of sight.

A strange and startling happening that was later a bit frightning because of what "could" have happened occured while I was hunting with a flintlock rifle. I prefer to hunt with traditional gear and often dress the part of a 1700's longhunter....just cause I like to do so. On this day I was wearing full buckskins complete with a coonskin cap. I had built a brush blind and was watching a creek crossing as dusk was aproaching....with just my head above the brush. I heard nothing and saw nothing when suddenly I was struck hard on the side of my head. I fell sideways to the ground and caught movement about 10 feet away. There was a huge horned owl sitting on the ground with my fur cap clutched in his talons. He pecked at it a time or two then flew away leaving the cap behind. Apparently he had mistaken the cap for something good to eat and attacked. At the time I was startled, but not really afraid. It was only later that I realized just how bad this could have turned out as I do know the power those big birds have and the damage that those talons could have done to me face/head.

I have hunted hogs for most of my life and although they do have the tools to be dangerous, most encounters are not so spine-tingling as some would have you think. Most hog "attacks" involve either a wounded animal or one that is accidentally cournered....or both. Two frightning encounters come to mind.

The first was a case of an accidental cournering of a boar. I was walking down a narrow trail through a very thick brush thicket. Anything out of the trail was basically impenetrable. Rounding a bend in the trail I surprised a 250 pound boar that was bedded in nook to the side of the trail. It happened so fast I really didn't have time to be afraid as the hog came up popping his teeth and came for me. I flattened myself against the brush and gave the hog all the room I dould to pass by. As he ran by, he hooked his head at me and I felt my leg be knocked from under me. Fortunatly the hog continued on and didn't press the attack. I was feeling quite lucky until I looked down and saw the long tear in my jeans and a bit of blood. Examination showed that my jeans and the heavy leather of my boot tops was cut about 8". The heavy leather had taken most of the damage and I only sustained a shallow cut along my calf.If I hadn't been wearing high-top heavy boots I shudder to think what damage might have occured.

The other hog "attack" involved my own mistake and a "wounded" animal. A friend and I were together alongside a switch-cane thicket where hogs loved to bed. We surprized a small herd and my friend shot....there was mass confusion as hogs scattered in all directions. My friend shouted "Don't let him get in the cane". I saw a large hog just going into the thicket and fired a shot from the .44 revolver I carried. It was not a "smart" shot....at the south end of a northbound hog....but this was, I believed, a wounded animal and was trying to imobilize it. It turned out that this was NOT the hog my friend had shot. His was dead a few yards away. When we looked at the tunnel-like trail "my" hog had taken we found much blood and knew we had a wounded hog in the switch-cane. Not a good situation. This was a truely frightning situation. The cane was so thick that one could only enter on the "tunnels" the hogs had made....literally on hands and knees. After much discussion and an hour or so of waiting, I entered the tunnel with the .44 held in front of me. The blood trail was quite heavy but after 50 yards or so continued into the thicket. I was truely terrified and every turn of the trail was even worse as I peeked around the bend expecting the hog to be waiting for me. Finnally I looked round another bend and there he was facing me at maybe 6 feet. A quick shot and much scrambling to get out of the thicket followed. Another 30 minutes or so with no sound or movement from the tunnel, I re-entered and went back to the hog. It turned out that my first shot had actually killed the hog...the hard-cast bullet traveling through his rump and forward to his chest. he was dead when I found him, although I didn't know that at the time. My quick shot at the turn had also been deadly (if the hog had been alive) to the center of his chest. However this was a very large boar (350 pounds) and I have no confidence that my shot would have stopped him at feet if he had been pressing an attack. This turned out well and was quite amusing later, but at the time it was a very frightning time for me.

I could go on and on.....but these stories come to mind first.

I have a few:

Very first deer hunt ever, right at day break, I had a fawn run up the hill and under my stand followed by a 12 ga. slug that hit the tree a foot above my head. It was fired by one of the drunk "cidiot's" that we encountered sitting around a fire passing a bottle on the walk in before dawn.

Sitting with my back to a big rock while bowhunting. I seen the tall grass moving and something was getting closer. A big boar coon emerged and stepped right between my legs and stopped for a few seconds then stepped over my left leg and continued on his way.

Sitting on a log while bow hunting in a hardwoods. Seen a shadow and instinctively lifted my bow to guard my head as a big Golden Eagle braked and veered off. Made me think of the story of the Montana game warden that was killed by a Great Horned Owl while bow hunting. Talons went right through his skull.

Got chased by a PO'd cow for a 1/4 mile as I walked across a pasture in the dark to get to my stand. I was wearing bulky clothes and boots and the beaotch almost caught me right before I jumped the fence.

*Edit* Actually it might have been a Wyoming game warden. I read the article in a Montana paper though.

Yer damn lucky it wasn't Jewish Bankers! you wouldn't be talkin' about it today.



Had a squirrel sit on top of my hat for about 10 minutes once, I'm pretty sure he was wearing pants cause he schit 'em when I lifted my hand and waved it.

Dayom.

Still waiting on that story outta Corpus Christi newspaper! Doc!!!

Well?????

Hunting whitetails out of a tree stand on my own property shooting hours ended and I lowered my empty Savage 99 to the ground and my pack. When I started to climb down there was a ruckus and low moaning sound coming from a patch of brush about 50 yards out.

I missed the last two steps of the tree stand, hit the ground, turned around to see a very large Brahma bull mix coming fast. Grabbed the 99 and loaded two cartridges in the magazine and stepped behind the tree just as the bull missed me and hit the tree stand. While he was butting the heck out of the stand I jacked a round into the chamber and stepped from behind the tree and put a 87 grain Hornady in his right ear.

The bull was owned by a bucking bull operation two farms down the valley from me.

One incident that remains clear happened a few years back...

I had haded up to eastern Idaho in the middle of nowhere to do some photography. Seems I drove on gravel forever and then backpacked in a few more miles. Saw moose galore. One bull about thirty yards away belly deep in a pond eating and then I saw two large shapes swimming across a lake. Without binos they were too far off to identify but I was immediately thinking a grizzly and cub! Wasn't till they clambered out the far side I could see they were moose shaped...

Anyway, the next morning I head out to hike a few more miles up to a canyon with waterfalls on both sides...my final destination. I was packing my Nikon, a backpack with lenses, filters, etc and my tripod for some long exposure shots. I had no rifle with me and I honestly can't remember if I was carrying my SIG 220 or not.

I get to the canyon and there are dense thickets scattered about. As I'm walking through one I hear the sound of something large moving close. I'm thinking, "don't panic, Chris, but it might behoove yourself to get your ass outta there...pronto." Thinking 'bear' and not really having any means of self defense, I scrambled out and headed to the sides where I could climb some large boulders. When I got high enough I could see down into the thicket....Mama moose and her calf!

I was relieved but it dawned on me a protective mother moose probably was above my unarmed combat proficiency...

I try not to go too deep in the wild anymore without some sort of Big Bang Theory on my hip...

Never been skeert in the woods. Heard some weird eerie scream in AZ once on a Coues hunt...Figured a coon got into the hot sauce but somone said is was a fox species they have there. Weirdest dang night scream I ever did hear.

My Dad and Granddad always said:

'Cheechakoes fear bears, but Sourdoughs fear moose.'

I think that they were right.

I can't do it until I go fishing in Corpus and get a chance to go to the library and get a copy of the newspaper report. I figure lots of folks require proof to prevent being called a liar or loon.

A Sunday front pager in october bow season probably in '66 but possibly '65. I wanted to and almost had enough whiskey last night.

Can't remember KW, I may even have posted it a couple years ago.

Off the same island I earlier described, however. I once in high school camped and waded over to the bay side of Mustang island one night with a Coleman lantern and reflector to gig flounder. After a few hours my left arm wore out and I switched it to my right and figured I'd try a first and gig with the left arm.

I waded up into a little cove and could hear the water splashing up ahead from thousands of mullet, mud minnows and piggy perch. About then I looked up and coming toward me was a 10-12 foot big freaking shark afte the baitfish coming to my lantern. His jaws were open and he was swinging his maw back and fourth slashing the crap out of the schools of mullet as he turned the water red as he sucked them in and swam straight on to me. I thought of turning the lantern away but couldn't stand the thought of not seeing if he got me before feeling those teeth. Just as he got to me I made my first ever left handed gig stab at his moving head.

By the grace of God the gig hit him dead center between the eyes and just knowing i had penetrated it's brain, but instead the sensation reminded me of what it would feel like gigging a concrete block. In a huge splash of blinding water and sizzleling from the hot wet lantern the shark had miraculously disappeared.

I've seen two quite strange sights deer hunting in quite remote areas.

I saw a very big and orderly square stack of large animal bones, the next morning, just beyond a camp that I got to and made after dark the night before.

On another deer hunting trip, long after elk season, as I still hunted along I saw an elk cow and large calf dead ahead just a few feet apart. After a careful approach in case something was guarding its kill, I could find no mark on either elk. The only tracks in the snow were elk and birds, and not even the birds had fed on the elk. I have no idea why two elk in apparent perfect condition would just drop dead, nor why the birds inspected but did not feed on the carcases.

Pretty sure you posted that story before. Flying saucer i think.

I can relate to that. Went out to Death Valley just to say I'd been there with some time off from a business trip. Death Valley isn't what I expected - or at least the part of it I was in - it was just basically a parking lot as far as the eye could see with little to no distinguishing landmarks.

I parked my car off the road and walked a ways over a small dune but had the car out of sight. In just that short walk it was easy to see that if I hadn't been 100% sure that I had parked on the other side of that dune, I could have easily just started walking in the wrong direction and gotten into trouble fast. Everything looked exactly the same in every direction.

Siting in a ground blind on a opening day moring of gun deer season, about an hour after day break, snow on the ground light snow falling, no wind, a large bumble bee whissed past my head, then i heard the shot! it came from a long way off, kinda ruined my moring!

Not really scary....

In college I was both skinny and swift. One summer I worked at an education/research station on Cranberry Lake in the Adirondacks, only way in or out was by boat across the lake.

Every evening it was my habit to go for a run up a trail along a stream. This was in the late seventies and I forget now how far it was, some distance in miles, maybe a six or ten mile round trip. I would love to be able to run anywhere, let alone through the woods like that now (think "Last of the Mohicans").

On a steep part where the stream was rushing and loud the trail ran between the stream and this large boulder. I came around the boulder and.... a big friggin' male black bear, right there. I coulda reached out and touched it.

First image I had as I skidded to a stop was the big head swinging down and around as it turned to run away. It ran about thirty yards and then stopped to look back. I called out "Hello bear!" to let it know what I was and it beat feet over a ridge, "wuffing" and spraying a shower of leaves with every bound.

Geeze, I actually continued the run, and did so every evening thereafter, but after that always made a point to holler out periodically to give notice I was coming.

That same summer I used to sleep out on the boat dock, and would peer out from the blankets in the misty mornings to see tree swallows sitting on the dock just feet away. That was the summer the Northern Lights put on a spectacular pale green show across most of the sky one July night (only time I've ever seen 'em), to the accompaniment of calling loons on that lake.

Looking back to that night, and all the many other good things that would befall that guy on the dock between that time and this, I have indeed been blessed

Birdwatcher

Ha. There you go BGG. What a memory you have. it still runs chills down my spine to think of and that was about '66.

I guess that night i posed that I had a few too many. Well, it feels good to have it off my chest.

Well, you can only keep the truth from coming out for so long a time.

Walking out to my deer stand early one morning in the dark, I had a grouse get up right up under my feet and touch my face with its wings. I screamed out loud...and then I had to laugh at my self.

And then there was this time my we stopped at waffle house for a huge breakfast before the deer hunt. I had just climbed the tree with a new summit tree stand, got all settled in and the perk in my gut told me I was in trouble.

Ever try to work your way down the tree while clenching your cheeks together? I get with jumping distance, fly out of the tree stand and barely get the layers of clothing off in time....

Walking up a rise in a field pheasant hunting. The dog put up a bird on the top of the rise and the shooting started. And then came the rain of birdshot from the hunters on the other side of the hill.

There are strange, unusual, unique experiences while hunting, or afield, there are ones that give you a start, and ones that have you fearing of loss of life.

In terms of getting a rush of flight or fright adrenalin, the one that comes to mind was the first time I had a muskrat pop up from under the ice, then out of my spear hole, and into my dark house while winter pike spearing.

Another time I had borrowed a friends springer spaniel to go pheasant hunting. We were walking into a stiff NW wind when the dog jumped into the bed of a mature whitetail buck who never heard or smelled us coming. He immediately took to stomping and goring the dog with its antlers. I ran up and shouted, but the buck ignored me. I then shot a load of high brass 4s over its back. Finally I leveled on its shoulder and fired. At that point he noticed me and started to circle until I leveled another round at its head from about 30 feet, where it died. The dog was still on the ground seemingly in shock and full of blood, I learned later was mostly from the buck that had been standing over him when I shot him the first time. I carried the dog out and back home where he quickly recovered. Later that day my friend and I talked to the farmer and a conservation officer about what happened, went back and retrieved the 8-point buck. It all happened very quickly. My only fear was for that dog. He was a good one.

The only time I can recall being fearful for my life was when I was 13. At that time we lived in Kailua on Oahu. My spearfishing/skin diving buddy and I had snorkeled out to the Mokulua islands off Lanikai beach to spear fish in the pool on the backside of the island. After we were done we decided to go up and over with all our gear rather than walk around. We quickly learned it is far easier to climb up versus climbing down as the sheer rock wall started getting pretty loose and crumbly. We were extremely relieved to reach the top after clinging and clawing our foolish a�es off that cliff.

HA HA

Yep muskrats popping up in your spear hole in a dark house will scare the crap out of any man. My cousin and I have a 4 x 8 spearing shack with two large spear holes and a stove in the middle. One year we put it out near someones swimming raft, that for some reason, they left in the lake for the winter. The muskrats must have been living under it because them suckers would pop up in our holes all the time and hiss at us.

One weekend I couldn't go fishing so my cousin brought another cousin from the other side of the family. A rat popped up and he screamed and speared it and threw it out the door. A few minutes later, the same thing happened. When they went to leave they found two frost covered, shivering muskrats sitting under the pickup. My cousin felt sorry for them so he put on his gloves and picked them up by the tail and put them back in the hole they had been speared out of.

The next day they went down to fish and my cousins hole was clean as a whistle and the other guy's hole was plugged tight with weeds.

Another guy had a big azz beaver come flying up the hole and land on the floor of his shack. Water was flying all over the hissing stove. He went backwards right through the wall of his shack. LOL

More funny than scary. My brother and I were duck hunting on a really nasty night. Early, big time cold front coming through. Lots of snow, wind, and the ducks were on the move. A big bluebill buzzed the spread and my brother shot it as it passed over. The danged thing fell right in my lap and about flogged me to death with it's wings as it literally ended up in my lap.

Can't even count how many close encounters I've had with small critters when bow hunting. Red squirrels running up my pant leg in the tree stand, chickadees landing on my arrow, a coon who just couldn't believe I was sitting in HIS tree stand. He came back to inspect me three times. The last time he climbed the tree, when he got to the platform, I spit on him and he bailed out over the side of the stand. Let me tell you, coons ain't real aerodynamic. He cartwheeled down through a couple saplings next to the stand I be he's still running.

On a more somber note, I used to hunt small game in some old strip mine land near our home. I had hunted through this area the night before I found this. Came back through the same area I'd hunted the day prior, and next to a pit lake there's a big Chrylser New Yorker sitting there smoldering. Over by the lake, the grass leading down to the water was all matted down, and I found the kind of stuff that comes out of one's wallet. Receipts, business cards, and a social security card. 'Figured this was a good place to get out of, so headed home. I called the police and they picked up the SS card, had me fill out a statement, and I never heard another word about it. Pretty sure someone threw a body in that lake, but could never prove it The Mafia was very well entrenched in that area and I always wondered if that was the case there.

Doc, there was a B-52 from Carswell that went down about then along the bombing site there! I remember as I went to elem school with the pilots kids. They lived at the end of our block in Western Hills, Ft. Worth. They never found anything from the crash if I remember correctly.

Wierd!

Mebbe that B-52 went down about 67-68.

I was hiking out of a canyon at night after elk hunting to my truck about a mile at the top of the canyon. It was pitch black, no moon, but I had a head lamp on. I heard something following me guessing about 40 yards behind me. Having trapped coyote and foxes, I figured that is what it was. So I stopped, yelled, and threw rocks toward it as they often trail people out of curiosity. So I kept walking. It continued to follow me. I did the yell and throw rocks thing again. I started walking again. I heard fairly large branches breaking behind me. At that point, I realized it was likely a mountain lion. That fricken thing followed me all the way back to my truck. It never quit following. I thought about shooting in the air to scare it, but I had partners waiting at the truck - they would have thought something was wrong and would have come looking for me.

That was the only time I have actually had the hair stand up on my neck. It didn't help that I had just attended a class about mountain lion attacks on people. That female jogger in California about 7 years ago who was attacked and partially eaten was highlighted in the class. The lion had jumped on her from behind, bit her neck, broken her neck, and started eating her while she was still alive.

Hey Guys,

Great stories and a great 24HCF read.

Thanks for the good time.

Steve

^^^^
We have a winner.

Steve.

Agreed please keep them coming

This took place in Tanzania. It is a real story - and scared me silly!

Elephant Morning


In my sleep my ears reach out, searching even before I roll over in my small bunk. A second sense left to us by our Neanderthal ancestors has awakened me from a bone deep sleep. It is dark, as black as any night could be.
The glowing hands and numerals of the wristwatch on the bedside table of small twigs and branches tracks my life in seconds, minutes, hours. The numbers tell me it is just after twelve.
I remind myself that is in another time zone, in another part of the world, perhaps in another reality. Still there is the sound that has awakened me, an insistent sound that has not gone away, no matter what my wishes.
As consciousness creeps across my groggy brain a memory is pulled from wherever memories are stored while I sleep. The origin of the sound an almost imperceptible shivering of the trees which tower over my tent. Perhaps a small monkey that is restless in the night. For a several minutes the sounds stop, only to be renewed. To comfort myself I believe, if only for a moment, it's a baboon in a nocturnally amorous mood.
The brilliant little flashlight kept handy next to my bed has been clenched in my sweating left hand for what surely must have been a half an hour now. In my right hand I squeeze the grip of my rifle, a 16 gauge over 8mm passed down through my family, father to son, son to grandson, for seven decades. The well worn black walnut stock soaks up my sweat. The sound of branches moving, cracking, and leaves whispering against leaves, moves closer to the canvas roof, now loud.
I try, almost desperately, to make myself believe that it is only a baboon. I fail. Maybe it's the leopard whose tracks have surrounded my tent each morning for the past three days. Relief floods through my body. Of course; it�s chui, the leopard. Chui has dragged a piece of meat, stolen from the kitchen, up into the trees that hang perilously close to my tent, barely a hands breadth between the canvas and branch.
Yes, I assure myself, it must be the leopard. Terry, my professional hunter, told me about chui. �You�ll have that, leopard about, no way round it actually. Simply love fresh meat, old chui does. Like the boys in that respect, he�ll eat all he can get then go sleep it off somewhere.� Terry made a good joke of it: �Of course chui is more interested in freshly killed kongoni than he is a stringy old bwana from across the sea.� he added. �Nothing to worry yourself about.�
It was easy to believe him; I probably needed to believe him.
Now my ears are stretching to hear movement, anything, to validate the belief that it is nothing more than chui. Hoping that it was a leopard that knew the rules, who really would rather be eating the kongoni I had bowled over this afternoon near N�gorongoro. Damn! It was tradition for the professional hunters to allow clients their privacy. Was it really necessary for Terry�s tent to be 200 black yards away?
The sound has now become more distinct; louder and closer. I strain to hear the sound of canine teeth tearing fresh meat. I only hear the sound of the leaves moving, falling on the tent roof only a foot from my sweating face. The very branches are now almost flailing my little temporary home. Scared, I can�t force myself to use the flashlight.
Reaching out through the blackness my ears detect a new sound. I immediately recognize the sound of something ponderous rubbing on the branches. It's a snake, a big snake moving slowly and elegantly through the trees. Moving from branch to branch, it is heavy; it must be a python, a constrictor. I silently curse myself for not studying African reptiles as well as I knew I should. Python probably. Were there any other large constrictors?
A shiver, then a shudder runs the entire length of my body; I shake myself as quietly as possible. Adrenaline, in large supply, is being pumped to every cell of my now quaking arms and legs, my chest is heaving. The sound now slithers into physical contact with the canvas; I can almost feel the smooth scales of the serpent on the tent. My fear has finally overcome my fear. I must use the light. My cave ancestors, from someplace deep in atavistic memory, whisper to me; use the light, but don�t let it blind you.
Very slowly I rise, silently kneel beside the cot. The light is clenched in my fist, it is slippery with fear sweat. In pitch black silence I place the rifle on my cot and cover the lens of the flashlight with my hand.
Oh, Holy Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the sound is almost overwhelming, something is grating, rasping on the canvas. With a twist of the wrist the light is turned on, I can see it penetrating the flesh of the hand that covers the lens. The light, through the pinkness of my flesh, shows only the arteries and veins in my fingers. They glow pink and blue. My hands do not shake. Now they are rock steady, as still as my breath.
Carefully I allow an almost imperceptible sliver of light to escape between my fingers. It strikes the roof of the tent and the canvas is alive, moving. The entire tent is now swaying against the weight.
As I watch, a bulge appears in the canvas, I think first of a pulsing fire hose. Yes, I tell myself, it is a big snake; only a serpent of great size could form the deep concave shape that moves slowly across the canvas roof only a foot from my face.
A snake is OK, all right, not really dangerous. The tightly zippered tent flaps will allow no entry, even to a snake as small as a mamba. Big snakes are all constrictors, slow and easily evaded if necessary.
Then I notice the secondary sound. The sound has gone undetected until now, a sotto voce compared to the quaking of the trees and the sound of my own heart beating like a kettle drum played by a madman. It is the sound of something very big breathing.
Somehow it is dark again. I have involuntarily switched off the light; my rifle is again in my hands. I can hear huge lungs gulping air, pushing air back out. I can almost feel the moisture in the breath. A second dose of adrenaline is being pumped through my body. I become dizzy. I realize that it has been quite some time since I have taken a breath.
The sound of my own breathing startles me; it is so loud that it will surely give me away. The adrenaline pumps are all working at full capacity and I am sure that my next move will be stupid. I�m scared too stiff and, thanks to the adrenaline, too damn angry to care any longer.
I turn on the flashlight and am immediately blinded by the intensity of the beam. It no longer matters. I crawl across the floor of the tent and shine the light through the mosquito netting covered window. From this vantage point all that I can see are tree trunks, big gray and brown tree trunks. Now why are those tree trunks moving I ask myself? Because those tree trunks are the legs of bloody elephant you simple ass, my brain replies.
My brain seems to have gone off somewhere by itself, it�s talking to me as if I were a third party. It sounds as if it is sitting in a drawing room somewhere smoking a pipe and having a brandy.
�Now listen up oh great white hunter,� the old brain says. �You have gotten yourself in a very interesting position. These here bloody elephant are eating the leaves off the trees above your tent. There are at least several real, live, big, wild, hungry elephant that have taken a liking to these particular leaves and there is very damn little that you can do about it, now is there?
�You can surely shoot one of them and get yourself crushed when he or she falls on your little tent. You could fire a round through the roof and pray that you miss them and that they all run away in a direction that is not over you. You can, if you haven't already, wet your pants and sit here all night shaking like a ninny or you can relax as much as possible and enjoy yourself.
�Now don't start telling me that I'm off my rocker, let's look at the facts. Fact one, you have not, so far, been turned into hunter tartare, or more likely, mush. Fact two, it doesn't seem like these particular elephant are interested in doing anything other than having an early morning snack. Fact three, these particular elephant MUST have smelled your reeking old carcass by now. If they were inclined to be nasty you would have never awakened in the first place. I suggest that you count yourself lucky to be enjoying this experience. Just think about the story that you will have to tell the grandchildren. They most probably won't believe you but that doesn't really matter, does it? They will never believe much of what you tell them anyhow.�
With business concluded to its' satisfaction, my brain settled in to enjoy itself. After due consideration I concluded that I should take good advice when it is given. After crawling under the wooden cot, I relax and listen to the sounds of wild African elephant breathing, digesting, stripping the leaves off of the trees and every now and again replenishing the supply of fresh fertilizer.
After an hour under the bunk the cold African night air starts my teeth chattering, I finally crawl back onto the cot. I wrap myself in a soft down comforter. Smiling, I drift off to sleep.
We are not hunting early today. I sleep until the morning sun warms my tent. Was last night a dream? Were there elephant around the tent? Drowsy, it takes effort to unwrap myself from the warmth of the cot and comforter. I pull on freshly cleaned hunting clothes, shake out my low cut shoes and pull them onto bare feet.
I replace the 16 gauge over 8mm with the .375 H&H Mauser. I throw my small rucksack with binoculars, canteen, knife and extra ammunition over my shoulder.
I am careful to look only at the floor of the little tent as I open the zippers that shut it up tight. I step out and look only across the temporary, little camp toward the dining tent. I stride purposefully away from the tent knowing that the camp boys will sweep clean every square foot of the camp before I return from Manyara. Any trace of elephant tracks will be erased. I never asked.


Terry -the client, not the hunter, Terry Roach.

T/R chip, 15 min from the nearest FOB.

Some pretty interesting stories here, scariest thing for me was being scoped by another hunter in PA when I was a teenager. One of my dad's friends found a suicide in archery season back in the 70s, poor soul drove his car back an old logging road and shot himself.

I respect bears. I almost fear moose though. Healthy respect, especially in the rut with bulls and any mother with a toto.

Bears, hell they almost always go the other way anyway, especially if I'm trying to hunt em.

Yikes!

IGB chip, south of Tal Afar, put her down outside of a small village.

Kids and people started to get curious, so I told the other door gunner (cook by mos) to take the APU handle and draw a circle around the bird, give some kids MRE candy, and have one of the boys step inside the circle with the APU handle. Tell him that if anyone crosses, he hits them with the handle and gets more candy.

Best perimeter defence I can remember...

Did the typical crew chief chip fix. Remove cover, pull detector, blow, put it back in, call it good. Pilot got us permission for the one time red X, flight and off we went.

Great story, and thank God there weren't any clumsy elephants around.

Only snake story I personally have from Africa is one night in my room. By the dim light of my kerosene lantern I made out a compact grey round shape stuffed in the corner of a ledge right above my bed. Strangely enough my first thought was it was my thick wool socks bundled up, of which I actually had a pair. Almost grabbed it.

Closer inspection revealed it was a vine snake, only moderately venomous. So I got my palm frond switch broom and gently prodded it into motion, it uncoiled and crawled along the ledge. When it got to the window I opened the hatch that let you reach out through the screen to close the wooden blinds (no glass) and gently steered it out.

Scariest snake story I got other than was the squat night adder I coulda stepped on right outside my door one night. The scariest snake story much worse than that was the poor girl at our school who stepped over a log and got bitten in the heel by the black cobra hidden underneath. I think the fright might have killed her as much as the venom did.

I never worried about snakes myself over there, tho I was in the bush quite a lot bird watching. One time after the coup I even walked two miles through the forest between villages by moonlight without a light so as to avoid the patrols after curfew.

Most notable wildlife sighting, other than fleeting glimpes of deer-like bushbucks (??), was a little black weasel that stuck its head out some weeds one day as I was sitting quietly on a log in the forest. It peered at me for a moment, growled, and then disappeared.

Other than that, the large predatory bats, big as a hawk, that would cruise low over open areas. I believe they mostly preyed upon lizards and such picked up off of the ground and branches. You'd be walking in the late evening along a road or path when suddenly the low droning hum of its sonar would seemingly come from inside your head as it ranged you. Then the bat would pass from behind, its wings sometimes sounding like a bedsheet flapping in the wind.

Birdwatcher

Got out of my deer blind in the dark and a rattlesnake was coming by me. I would have stepped on him if I wasn't paying attention.

7-8 years ago I was bow hunting in an old abandoned apple orchard.
there was a big cedar on the edge of a draw with a row of apple trees running down the draw. I was busy assembling a ground blind when I saw something moving under a apple about 30 yards away. started paying attention when I saw it was 3 cubs about the size of a cocker spaniel. got my bino's up and was enjoying watching the little buggers arguing over apples when I saw an apple fall from up in the tree. normally I am not so dense as to not figure out that where there are 3 little bears there should be a big bear also, but I was really enjoying the show in stereo vision. about the time it dawned on me that mamma was up the tree swatting apples for the young'uns the wind switched and blew on the back of my neck and directly down to the tree momma was in.
the 3 little guys suddenly disappeared so fast it would have made a magician proud, and momma came down the trunk head first, hit the ground running, straight at me. she was all stiff legged and would pause just long enough to tell me what she was going to do when she got to me, and bounced up and down on her front legs. well at that time I weighed around 200 and was still logging and doing heavy construction. but that gal scared me wet.
she looked as big as a truck while she was demonstrating. I was yelling at her and insulting her character at the top of my lungs. She stopped about 5-6 paces off and blustered some then just lost interest I guess. when she settled down, so did I and I realized she maybe weighed 90 lbs. I guess the 3 cubs were keeping her slim. I am still glad I didn't have to punch her ticket.

the next one turned out different.
I was walking my 900 feet of water line coming down the mountain from a creek. I had a 41 mag on and my Kita dog was with me. now Kita wasn't what you would call a liteweight. In his prime he was about 145 lbs. and not afraid of anything but a moose.
we came over a slight rise and there was a big old stump that squirrels lived in. it was about 20 feet from us and a big old scared nosed black was head and shoulders in that stump after squirrels. I guess he thought we were another bear after his snack because he whipped around in a full charge roaring to curdle milk. Kita met him half way and that bear swatted him in the shoulder and sailed him arse over teakettle. I put 4 rounds of 41 starting at the tip of his nose and the last one went between his shoulder blades. he weighed 312lbs. all the time this was happening there was a strange sound in the woods , kind of reminded me of a little girl getting a frog down her pants. my wife said she heard it down to the house and thought it was a screech owl getting buggered.
took me 20 minutes or so to get my legs to carry me back to the house. Kita stayed with that bear and every so often would savage him. guess it made him mad getting swatted.

There was this one time when I was out huntin' and I saw this light in the sky. I looked up and felt tingly all over.

When I woke up, I had a lump in my forearm and had a serious case of butthurt...

Until some Wookie shows up unexpectedly and ruins your whole morning...

Only ever had one time I felt scared. I was watching a powerline in rifle season when I saw another hunter cross the powerline and head further back in the mountain. The whole time he crossed, he just stared at me. I thought maybe he knew me or something so I waived. He kept walking. Didnt think anything of it.

About 45 minutes later, he pops around a small bend above me and starts walking down the powerline. I noticed he had his chest kinda puffed up and holding his rifle with both hands instead of slung over his shoulder.

He was getting closer and I could hear him grumbling "f in cock suckers, sob'in mother fers" and hes again staring at me. I took the safety off my Abolt at that point and slid more against the tree with my right side, which really sucked cause it limited me ability to react quickly but it was my only way to protect the majority of my body as quick as I could.

He walked toward me and I pointed me gun at the ground but in his general direction. He yelled out "F you, its a whole skew of you mother fers back here" and shot me the finger. He kept goin down the mountain but would turn around every few feet.

What scared me the most was he was heading out the traul I came in on and where I was parked. I knew my dad was already at my vehicle and figured as pissed as this guybwas who knew what he'd do if he ran into my old man. So as soon as he turned into the woods trail I hauled ass through the woods parralelling him. I beat him out to the next powerline and could watch him getting closer to my vehicle, where dad was sitting.

Im not ashamed to say I had that sob in my scope the whole time he walked near dad. When he walked by i could see his lips move and he gave dad the finger, and I saw dad give him the finger back. Thank God he kept on movin cause it wouldnt have taken much to pull the trigger to protect my dad. Never had that happen before and hope I never run into someone like that again.

They, now, appear to be an almost exclusively urban species. The hunting woods may be our best refuge.

I would like to think I would have reacted the same way

admittedly I'm going to hesitate being confrontational with anyone angry and armed, even if I am armed, unless I have to be.

Maybe it was Bigfoot... ;-)

Actually had a similar experience many years ago on the Naciemento River in central Calif. A buddy had a small cabin he let me use occasionally for hunting deer, pigs and quail. On one afternooon, while scouting, I came upon a fresh pig wallow and decided to stake it out until sunset in case any pigs returned. They didn't show, and it was just about dark when I started to hike out. As I rounded the first bend in the trail, my flashlight revealed an unsettling sight: very large kitty tracks on top of my tracks. That cat had followed me, left the trail just out of my sight and circled above the hill behind me, and had likely been watching me for some time. Just then the wind came up and started whipping the thick brush all around me so I wouldn't have heard a tank approaching. Then my flashlight died. It was a very long hike back to the cabin in the dark with my rifle on my hip... serious lesson learned that night about toting multiple lights.

But the SCARIEST thing I ever saw was an old white guy streaking in front of my deer stand with a knife clinched between his teeth, wearing nothing but a leopard-print thong, screaming at the top of his lungs that he was going to win the Dink-a-Thon...

He he.

Good job on the nutcase, P.

Ingwe, how de hail you gonna get a dink while a hollerin?

I was about 23 years old. First year coon hunting. as we were walking into the dogs that were treed, pitch black dark night, I heard the craziest sound in the trees above us. Really had no idea what it was but it was loud. Scared the hell out of me, but no one else seemed bothered by it. Ended up being a flock of turkeys that we scared off their roost.

Nothing dramatically scary like some of y'all.

Only time I've been really, um, unhappy with a situation hunting was when a buddy and I walked into one of his uncle's raggedy plywood shooting houses early one morning near the beginning of the season. We weren't seriously hunting - just hanging out and drinking coffee while waiting to see if any meat walked in front of us.

As it got light, we could see 2 or 3 big old red wasp nests in the nooks and crannies of the boards holding the thing together. Maybe 30 big wasps and us in that little bitty room up on stilts. We carefully retreated and hoofed it on back to the house....

They got hit by lightening. The birds didn't eat it cause the meat was overdone .

Very little ever happens where I hunt. I did have a bear kill tag in 1999 and alwaystried sneaking up on the bear when I came into the bait. One time it was raining so I thought for sure I would sneak up on one and whatch it. When I came up on th ebait pile there were fresh tracks. I stood there a few minutes to see if I could see some black going through the woods. As I looked down the bear track in the mud were full of water. I am sure I spooked the bear but was close. I never snuck up on a bear yet.

Also, one night in the Wis. muzzloader season, it was almost 10pm. Sitting in my rocking chair in the cabin. It is so quiet up there it is hard to believe. Almost asleep a timber wolf lets out a howl very close to the cabin. It was so loud I jumped clean out of the chair. I opened the door and then could hear young ones howling too. It was The wolves were at least 130 yds from the cabin . They run along the river in winter to hunt. Never thought a wolf could be so loud. Also, I saw a coyote chase a snowshoe, catching it righ tin front of me while bow hunting. I shot the yote with the bow but only wounded it. Not much huh??

That is as good of an explanation as any.

Besides humans there's really not much else if anything of a scary sort around here. I guess the potentially scariest thing I've happened on were the occasional old open well and cistern around long ago deserted grown over old homesteads. Luckily I've managed to see them before it was too late.

One well I remember was out in the middle of an open crop field a short ways from an old falling down derelict barn and a pecan tree. The well opening itself was about 3 feet across but over the years the dirt around it had formed sort of a slick funnel circling the well out a couple more feet. The well walls were brick or stone covered with slick moss. No idea how deep it really was. Even when the crops were gone it was still hard to tell it was there until you were almost right beside it. You'd never know it was there with a little growth of soybeans or corn.

I had to fish a neighbors beagle out of it one time when I was picking up pecans from the pecan tree one day late in the year. The poor goofy dog was running loose sniffing and pissing on everything decided to follow me. Next thing I knew it was down in the well splashing and swimming in circles and yipping. We had had a lot of rain recently so the well was full enough that I was just barely able to reach the dog and snatch it up by its neck and sling it out as far as I could over my shoulder. I wondered how many other animals met their end in old wells and cisterns. If a person fell in I doubt anybody could hear them holler for help.

One I remember well was sleeping on the ground, no tent, about 30 years ago. 35 miles s of flagstaff. I was deer hunting, by myself. I had made camp 100 yards off the road against a range fence. (fence was about 25 feet behind camp) . walked a lot of country, had a big feed, and turned in about 8, to get up and hit it again early in the morning.

Woke up in the middle of the night, from a dead sleep, to the sounds of hooves pounding, getting closer and closer. more than one animal was running right down the fence line, right toward me. I still couldn't see them, but I couldn't lay there any longer. I sat up in my sleeping bag and grabbed my pistol, ready for I don't know what.

Camp was in a little limestone draw, about 100 feet across, the rims were about 20-30 feet high.

Right when I sat up, the deer, or elk, whatever they were, ran through camp across the draw and up the other side. Just then I heard the worst scream I ever heard in my life. I know what blood-curdling means now, and I get goose-bumps typing this . Right on the rim, something screamed again, and I stood straight up, popped off 3 rounds right at where I thought the lion was, and started hollering for all I was worth. I popped off another 3 and hollered some more.

I built up the fire, after that.

Sycamore

Nov. 2010, the wife and I were heading to town here in north Idaho. We have about 15 miles of gravel over a mountain pass to get to the highway.

It was late afternoon and the light was sketchy..... a whiteout had just hit as we crested the pass and headed down out of the heavy firs and into more farm country. I saw a massive 6x6 whitetail out of the corner of my eye, but couldn't avoid hitting the old buck with my Toyota tundra. The impact was fierce for a deer.

I pulled over to check on the animal and truck and when I went back to examine the large buck, it charged me and pinned me to the ground when I slipped in the deepening snow. I was in dress shoes, dress shirt with a sport coat!
He was bleeding out the mouth but still meant to gore me to death.... I managed to grab his large rack, but i realized that even at 6'5" 230, breaking his neck with brute strength wasn't going to happen. The thing was huge and going all out on adrenalin.
Once or twice I tried to get up and just get away but the damn thing would full on charge me again. Finally we ended up in the ditch on the side of the road literally wrapped in old, loose barbed wire and I managed to grab my leather man 'juice' out of my pocket.
I managed to cut his throat with the pathetic two inch blade, with that massive neck it was ridiculous. The buck finally expired.

We had weak cell service, but I called our local f&g guy, a decent bloke, and I explained to him exactly what happened and what should I do with the animal. He asked if I had a valid buck tag, I said "yes", he said "congratulations, tag the animal if you'd like to take it; enjoy the venison, I hope your truck fixes up".
So, I tagged the beast, got him in the bed of the truck, called a neighbor who towed us home.
$6500 damage, numerous cuts, bruises and scrapes all over my body--many from that damned rusty barbed wire--and a 230lb whitetail.

He clearly would have died from the impact, it was obvious when skinning, but it still amazes me the strength and determination of that crazy deer.
The big rack hangs on the wall....it makes for quite the story.

walking off a ridge after deer hunting real late one evening, you could barely see and i heard the weardest noise ive ever herd to my left, i turned and saw a blk bear 25yds from me. i drew my 44mag as i backed away. Lucky for both us he hent the other way.


Once rigeing 4wheelers about 2 miles up a dirt rd i came across a guy so i stopped to see if he was ok. best i can figure he decided he wanted my 4wheeler and he kept tryin his best to get me to follow him off into the woods. he was standing in front holding onto the rack of my wheeler. Finally i told him i needed to leave he said No your gonna get off and come with me.As unholsterd my beretta 96 and layd it on my lap i said No im I'm fixing to drive away.Thank god he changed his mind and let go and i drove off without haveing to take steps farther

That's some creepy chit. Good thing you were packing that Beretta.

Maybe he wasn't gonna steal your 4 wheeler, maybe he was just gonna show you a good time!

No means No.

Don't. Stop. Don't Stop. don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop.....

I have a few stories related that

All happened when I was a teenager.

1. one summer night I was laying in bed. I had a sliding glass door going into my room and had the door open with the screen in place. I was jolted out of bed by what sounded to me like a woman screaming in terror. I thought my neighbor , who had some mental problems in the past, was beating his wife. Turns out is a Bobcat ( I assume) but that noise it made was terrifying to someone in a dead sleep. Had some relatives come visit that summer and they brought their camper. They were in the front yard in the camper and it did it again outside their camper. Its scared the [bleep] out of them. They were running around the yard in whatever they slept in trying to figure out what was happening.

2. My dad decided he was going to raise rabbits one year so he got 10 or 12 and built some pretty heavy duty raised hutches about 4' off the ground for them. They had screen fronts made of galvanized steel mesh -not chicken wire - the 1/2"x1/2" grid steel mesh.

One night in the late fall - I know it was cold enough to frost, something came thru and ripped open that mesh on each cage, killed every rabbit and drug off 2 or 3 of them with it.

We decided to leave things as they were and bring in a game warden to get an idea of what did but he wasn't available until a couple of days later. That night, whatever killed them came back and got another 2 or 3 rabbits.

After that we got rid of everything.

3. That winter my father was in the living room and he called out to me to grab my gun so I grabbed a double barrel 16 gauge I had and went to him. He told me he just saw a large black cat walk up the hill across the street from us, so I took off after it. Of course there was probably a 5 minute delay between when he saw it and me getting out of the house.

Now I know everyone has heard a "black panther/jaguar" story but I found its tracks in the snow and followed the tracks until they went into a field. I lost them after that but it was clear this wasn't some figment of his imagination.

What I do know is some dog couldn't have done that, and I doubt a Bobcat could have.

What did leo say about that?

Not really strange or scary so take it for what it is.

Yrs back when vanilla scent was the rage as far as attractents went I had a sow and 3 cubs show up while I was sitting in a ground blind(just some limbs piled in a circle)hunting deer. The sow meandered down a logging road but the yr old cub and two newborn came right to the blind. The blind was tall enough I could hunker down below it. I did and just didn't move. I could actually here them sniffing the blind and caught glimpses of them through it. Could have easily touched them. This went on for probably 10 minutes or so then they wandered off. Thing is,LUCKILY,I hadn't sprayed the "Nilla Killa" I think it was called? Could have been an all together different situation if I had.

Hey, eyeball. Post up that UFO story you shared a couple years ago in a thread similar to this one.

Suffering Christ, that is one ugly woman.

Dude

About 20 years ago I was hunting whitetail deer from a box blind. It was on a military installation where they dropped you off at your stand before daylight and picked you up at 10 AM. It was a drawing process so when your name was called you picked whatever stand was still available to hunt. Usually you got dropped off several hundred yards from your box blind so you had to carry all your gear with you to the stand.

Most of these box blinds were on the ground with camo netting across the back that you pulled aside as you step in. Naturally as you get close to the blind I turned my flashlight off and pulled the netting back to step in. Just as I did that I felt something fall from above hitting my right shoulder, sliding down my chest and resting on my boot. All I could think of was big snake. I was frozen in place trying to process what just happened, I very slowly reached into my pocket for my flashlight and pointed towards my feet. As the light tuned on I was very happy to see someones rifle sling that they had removed and must have placed above the door. I was now wide awake. Tom

Man Bruin, that's a lot of typing. I wish I could find and repost it. It was under a thread similar to this.

I was sitting in a big pop up blind in October a few years ago with my bow on the Jim Terry ranch 12 miles north of Ozona. I had set it up against a big concrete water tank about five -6 ft high and maybe 20 yards in diameter.

They are pretty common in the western parts of the hill country in west Texas. They often have walls 2-3 ft thick and filled with rock and cement and make great swimming holes in the eastern reaches of the great American desert and many ranches have them near the house and corrals and have had many kids take advantage of that. They are typically fed by windmills in caliche rock country.

I was semi dozing in the bind as it cooled down one cloudy evening while sitting in a low chair. I felt something moving over my outstretched boots about ankle level and opened my eyes to see a huge king snake. I guess my mind knew it was a huge rattler before I got the eyes open good and identified it and let me tell you, I scared the crap out of that snake or something.

I figured the racket would keep the deer away for the rest of that day.

This one?

This happened about twenty years ago out near Forks,WA. It was reported by The Peninsula Daily News as well as in the Forks local rag, it happened on Halloween.

The story goes like this:

A hunter was hunting deer on Scull Mountain. He got lost and managed to find his way off the mountain, in doing so he came across the Skeleton of another hunter with his rifle across his lap and the skeleton of a nice blacktail buck. After he returned to his car he reported the find to the Clallam County Sheriff. Although they never found the Skeletons the Sheriff made the statement he believed the hunter as he was that rattled and he did actually see the scene as described.

Been there, had that happen.

All Right Keith. You the man. Thanks.

That's the one, Keith. Your Google-foo is strong.

Someone above mentioned finding an old abandoned well. Found this one by chance a few years ago near an old dugout homestead. Way off the beaten track. Landowner was not even aware it was there.



Water level was about 30 ft below the surface.

Remains of the old dugout...those people were a tough breed!

Would be fun to peck around that place with a metal detector...