Campfire tales of great hunts and good shots; eyewitness or otherwise

[MASTARBLASTER]

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Earlier today I was thinking of the variety of hunting environments that are available in the U.S. and both game and nongame species that I have toasted and roasted . Yet in reflecting on game I have shot and roasted , some of the best "hunts" have been when no shot was taken out of ethical respect for the game where distance, shot presentation and caliber in hand were not in synch to justify a shot. Such memorable yet fleeting opportunities to get a "trophy" mount and not being well prepared to take the shot has been in part, strong motivation to seriously study firearms and ballistics.

Now, With that being said, one of the great hunts that has been recorded in my memory has come from a "campfire" tale from an elder neighbor, whose ready fluency on rifle calibers and ammo weight for each was quite impressive. Knowledge he acquired from weekly hunting in southern Arkansas, decades before man landed on the moon, a tale of modern technology which he refused to believe. In his retirement years, after he had moved to Texas, Mr. Neely could find a willing ear as I found his hunting stories captivating. Living on a small 80 acre spread, he described a casual evening after a full workday as going home, getting his shotgun and walking to the woods to see if he could get a rabbit or 2 for dinner or next days lunch at work.

As for the hunt that remains clear in memory , it came as a result of our .223 vs any other centerfire cartridge for deer, he always said, "that's a varmint round, not enough bullet on it for me to hunt deer !" I countered that a 55gr. CoreLokt soft point does the job quite well here in Texas. He went on to describe his leading shot on a fleeting deer with a .243 rifle after his scope zero had evidently been altered. Mr. Neely recounted, " I had the deer lined up just right in my scope at 50 yards and squeezed the trigger, "BAM!" the deer raised up sniffed the air and took off toward the thick woods across the creek about another 100 yards away. I figured I must've bumped my scope, so I had to look underneath it and try to get another shot before it got to the creek. The deer was running by leaps between trees and I led him just right, "BAM !" and I saw him flop just past the creek. When I walked up to him, I did not know a little .243 would do that much damage to a a buck, it blew half his head off !

In reflection and perhaps because I have not hunted with a .243 or the excitement I sensed at my 70 plus year old neighbor reliving his glory days, this is one among many campfire tales of great hunts in my memory. I know others who have hunted coastal grizzly bear in Alaska or dangerous game in Africa or any game in between have much more chilling tales than this offering . However, I now realize that what really makes a great hunt, is not just the game, but the neighbor you love and trust to hunt with in the thickest, darkest woods.

Yeah, I know every husband is supposed to love his wife, but how many husbands trust their wives in the woods with a centerfire rifle as part of his hunting party ? Not a poll, just posing a question for consideration.


______________________________________________________________

Nothing can bring you peace but yourself; nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles .
-Ralph WaldoEmerson

 

[Art Eatman]

Neither of my wives were particularly interested in hunting, but both were good enough shooters and were safety conscious enough that I'd not have worried. They enjoyed the camping/social aspects readily enough.

 

[MASTARBLASTER]

All is well that ends well. Such hunting partners that you were fortunate enough to find and marry is fine and dandy and every husband has some degree of responsibility to teach his wife how to protect herself and home with a firearm.
However, being in the woods with creeping and crawling things that bite , and squeaking things that go bump in the night is on a different order of firearm proficiency, for many although notable exceptions exist. On marksmanship alone I would eagerly hunt with an Annie Oakley in the hunting party ! However, having the discipline to refrain from shooting at a moving object that is camouflaged by trees and bushes may or may not be a skill that many other woman or wives acquire. For that matter, some men with hunting experience do not demonstrate such discipline. Some fellow who went hunting in Texas with a noted politician and was sprayed with bird shot and survived due to distance was fortunate not to have been critically injured. Bird shot used for quails is a bit forgiving in case of mistake of identification or poor aim; a centerfire round used for hunting, not so much.

I too have a personal south Texas quail hunt story and although memorable it was overall a no so much a good hunt or a great shot that made it notable. On occasion I would accept an open invitation to go hunting on a private ranch in south Texas from a friend whose family tree goes back to the "OLD THREE HUNDRED" so in contrast to being concerned about property fence lines to be aware of in case of tracking game. No such concerns tend to arise in the midst of several thousand acres where you could literally get lost if not too familiar with the landscape. Such is the scenario of that particular hunt where the distant sound of rifles was one of the only other signals that society had not elapsed back into the stone age.

In reflecting on the inspiration for this thread, I now recognize the value of such campfire hunting tales with my neighbor was the sense of camaraderie that developed although at least 30 years separated our ages. We would literally talk for hours , sitting outside on his porch, with his wife perhaps less than 20 feet away inside and on occasion the conversation drifted from strictly firearms ,hunting and the Arkansas backwoods countryside into more confidential chats or at his age perhaps confessions. On those occasions, I could have been nervous just sitting on his porch, if I imagined his wife hearing about some of the "game" he stalked on those regular hunting adventures n the woods and taking some misguided revenge !

 

[Art Eatman]

I joke that I have more time by the fire at a hunt camp than a lot of folks have in being upright and breathing. While I've had many enjoyable solo hunts, BSing with friends around the fire makes for some truly fine times and great memories.

One thing about my hunt camp people's stories: Great deeds were told about what others had done. Screw-ups were first-person. When stories of personal successes were told, it was to share enjoyment, not to brag.

 

[BigBore44]

I have been fortunate enough to see many impressive (or lucky) shots taken in the woods and fields. Occasionally, I have had the privilege of being the shooter. By far the luckiest or best shot is my very good friend Mike.

I won't tell all the stories I could. I'd probably be here a week telling them. But I know, first hand that Mike has 10 ringed a doe, full sprint, mid air jumping a creek, at a lasered 153 yards with a CVA Optima. He also dropped a coyote running away at ~350 yards with a 450 Bushmaster AR, 1st shot back of the head. But I have also Been present when Mike whiffed a buck at 75 yards with an 06 only to have the buck run in a semi circle towards him only to have Mike get his first big bore pistol kill at 15 yards. He's killed his 3 biggest bucks after being away from the truck less than 5 minutes. Mike's just one of THOSE guys. You want to hate them but you just can't.

My "best" hunting story took place when I was about 10. My grandmother and grandfather loved hummingbirds. And my grandfather was religious about making sure his birds always had fresh nectar in their feeders. But the wasps loved that nectar too. So my grandpa would sit out on his back patio with his old pump BB gun and shoot wasps off the feeder and occasionally out of the air. We aren't talking 100 yard shots. Maybe 10-12 yards. Well it cost him a couple feeders and an outside thermometer, but eventually he taught me to become fairly decent at it too.

So two other birds that frequented my grandparents back yard were a decent sized covey bobwhite quail and some doves. Grandpa used to hunt those, and pheasant when they lived in Kansas. But hadn't since 1969 when they moved to Oklahoma. Always talked about how good they were. Even grandma agreed that they were tasty. But shooting one of grandmas quail or doves would have resulted in my certain death. So I stuck to wasps and wood bees.

Well, one day I was in the back yard shooting with grandpa and a dove flew into a tree in his field. Wind was blowing a little that day. Not much. But a little. I begged grandpa to let me shoot at that dove. He kinda chuckled at me when I begged him. Squinted his eyes to see it as I pointed to the bird. He said "Sure bud, take your best shot. But we gotta go if you don't get it. Grandma will be home soon. And he stood there half cocked with his hand on his hip and a grin on his face. He knew I'd never hit it. It seemed a mile away. But I pumped that little BB gun up till I couldn't pump it anymore, loaded me a copperhead BB in there, took aim, pulled the trigger, and the bird fell. All I heard was "well....$#%&"

I was in shock.....So was grandpa. His smirk was gone. He just stood there. Seemed like forever. His eyes were...busy. I was worried. I just knew he was trying to think of a place to bury me and the bird so he could still keep his life. I quickly came to the conclusion that killing that bird wasn't worth it. I said "Grandpa we don't have to tell grandma.....do we?" He looked down at me with eyes that only a person in disbelief can have and said "Well I'm not sure. Didn't really plan on you hittin it. But damned if you didn't. Let's go see if we can find it".

Grandpa showed me how to clean a dove. And when grandma got home that afternoon, and asked what me and grandpa had done that day, grandpa told grandma what had happened. How he had let me shoot at it not thinking I could hit it. How I had made the best shot he'd ever seen. Grandma didn't look real happy. But grandpa was standing beside me with one of his big iron worker hands on my shoulders. Something happened right then. Not sure what it was. But as quick as she was to be upset that one of her doves had died, she asked where it was. Grandpa said its in the fridge. She smiled said something like "Well let's see if I still remember how to cook them then. Can't let a morsel like that go to waste". Ate my first dove that night. Best dove I've ever had.

After my grandparents passed and we were moving stuff out of their house, my brother and I were sitting on that back patio talking about all the memories. He asked me which tree it had been that I shot the bird out of. I pointed to the tree. He asked how far I thought it was. Said "I don't know bro. But it's a lot closer now than when I was 10. But I got a rangefinder in the truck. Be right back"..........

 

[MASTARBLASTER]

Posts that boast about hunting skills welcome

I welcome other members in their posts to brag and boast about both local hunts or game across the globe they have "toasted and roasted !" I enjoy a good read about the hunting adventures of others , from some I can gather practical information that I can aim to replicate or either to be aware of special circumstances when in the woods. Special circumstances might include the advisability of having a CRF vs. PF action when hunting dangerous game in regions that can rise to 100 plus degrees in the shade !

For example, cinematic images remain in my mind from a thread that I read years ago, when member and PH, H&HHUNTER was responding to the notion that a modern push feed action are just as reliable as the tried and tested controlled round feed actions. He replied with a sense of reserved indignation that only real life experience imparts into the soul of a hunter . His response gave a glimpse of many DG hunts he has witnessed and been behind the trigger, he stated to the effect, ' What are you going to do after your first shot with a PF hits its mark at 50 yards, but the 375H&H only infuriated the cape buffalo who has scented you and is charging in for blood in the 110 degree heat and as you attempt to chamber a second round, you find the empty case has swollen stuck as you see 1500 pounds of raging horned terror charging you in a cloud of dust, head shaking side to side with frothing mouth....' (the quote may not be verbatim, but the image of the scene his words painted are still clear )

Such vivid descriptions of hunting scenes are the lingering images of good reads I look forward to seeing........

 

[MASTARBLASTER]

BigBore44, I will be the first to admit that you provided a very powerful post that will assuredly take many of us back to the adventurous but innocent days of youth, when our Daisy BB gun "rifle" and cap gun pistol made us feel we could face any danger, real or imagined. Recollections of my grandma , negotiating with me and my brother that if we picked the feathers on a few field doves he had shot with his SHERIDAN pump air rifle she would clean and cook them , really made the post poignant.

 

[3212]

I was a watcher on a mountainside deer drive.It was doe season.I saw a doe coming through brush below me.The watcher below me took a shot and missed or hit brush.She turned uphill and ran back.I threw up the Marlin 30-30 and took a shot at about 120 yards.I tend to shoot high in these situations.Well,as I shot she jumped a log and collapsed.It would have been a miss otherwise.The drivers came out to us and found her.They were impressed,I didn't enlighten them.

 

[Grumulkin]

I grew up in a home with a mother that was against guns and my father didn't think they were of much use; i.e. frivilous. That meant until I was about 14 and finally was allowed to have a BB gun, I had to make do with primitive weapons.

One weapon I made was a rubber band gun. One took a piece of wood, put a close pin on it and attached a rubber bad to the end of it. Ammunition was a china berry. If you don't know what that is, it's an inedible seed that grows on a tree; when it's finally ripened you have a seed covered by wrinkly brown skin about the size of a small marble. There were no sights; it was all instinct shooting.

It was Christmas Eve whilst opening presents and a mouse was seen going behind a book shelf. I got my rubber band gun and when the mouse showed itself again I shot it in the head and then flushed it down the toilet.

The rubber band gun was also used with David in a fort and myself and his brother Bobby and I shooting at him. I can still remember a china berry bounceing off his bald little head (he had a buzz cut). David wasn't happy with his role in the adventure.

 

[jrdolall]

I personally witnessed a hunter take three ducks with one shot. A group of three Gadwall flew over him and he let them pass over anticipating getting one or two. He fired one shot, middle duck according to him, and all three hit the water stone dead. There were five guys standing in that reservoir and all of us saw the shot.

 

[BigBore44]

Jrdolall,
I too have personally done that. Not on Gaddys. Big group of Greenwing teal on a very low passing shot. Swung on the lead bird and 3 fell. About 30 yards so I had a pretty good sized pattern spread.

I believe that every great hunting story has to have an element of pure luck involved or something entirely unexpected has to happen. The only exception to that is a new hunter bagging their first game animal. But usually those stories a most meaningful to the parties involved.

 

[Taurus 617 CCW]

Last fall turkey season I was waiting with my hunting partner under a fir tree for the turkeys to walk by like they do every day. Finally I had my chance and they passed by the tree. As they were walking away I fired one shot with my double barrel shotgun. Two turkeys dropped and that was the end of it for the day. I now have double barrel as part of my nickname synonymously linked with the word twofer.

 

[Patocazador]

I've never seen it and don't know that it has happened but have had 3 ex-members of our hunt club say that they "accidentally" killed 2 deer with one shot. This was a case of individual members in different years all doing the same thing the first year they were in the club.
Evidently, their soft-nose ammunition didn't expand at all when passing through the first deer.
Quite a coincidence.

 

[entropy]

I personally witnessed a hunter take three ducks with one shot. A group of three Gadwall flew over him and he let them pass over anticipating getting one or two. He fired one shot, middle duck according to him, and all three hit the water stone dead. There were five guys standing in that reservoir and all of us saw the shot.

Yup, did it with four bluebills. I missed the lead bird, got the four behind it. The only witness to the shot, my Dad's best friend Rich, accused me of firing both barrels of my Stevens 311. It took a lot of convincing get him to believe me. We both water-swatted the downed birds, so I used the other shell (plus four more) and didn't have it in the gun to show him.

Then there was the grouse I shot in the air with a .38 wadcutter......

 

[Liberty1776]

When I was a kid, I shot a bumblebee out of the air with my Daisy bb gun at about 10-12 feet. And it was a hip shot...

 

[AKElroy]

First year on our lease I was sitting a 12' chair, with a feeder pen 179 yards away watching an ugly 4 point cull for the 3rd or 4th time over the last several hunts. I was also grasping the wrong gun for the distance and my old eyes, but I didn't really plan on killing anything at that feeder. When facing a different direction, the chair I was in also overlooked a clearing with several intersecting trails and usually good activity, but not that day. The model 94 AE I was holding had an awful trigger, and a vintage weaver K -4 scope. Not the best combo for nearly 200 yards.

I watched that ugly buck for 10-15 minutes, watched him run-off a few smaller yearlings, and decided he needed to leave the gene pool. I don't have a gate on that pen, so I really wanted him to finish eating and jump out. When he tensed up and squatted a bit, I thought for a split second about how cool it would be to see if I could shoot him out of the air.

I squeezed the shot just as he jumped, and the 170 gr corlokt round hit the crease behind the shoulder as though I planned it, crumpling into a heep after one step. I told my son about it on the way home, and didn't bother mentioning it to anyone else. No way they would buy it. I'm not sure my son does---

 

[3212]

Oh,I have another one.40+ years ago on a goose hunt in a cornstalk blind with 3 other hunters I had the first shot.I had never killed a goose.It was windy with snow flurries.Two geese were flying into the wind off my end of the blind.The guys said try them.I lead the first one. When I fired the second one came down just winged.It landed in a swamp behind the blind.I went down and waded in,grabbed it by the neck.You can't break a gooses neck!I got flogged by the good wing for my trouble.I had to hold the head on a log and smack it with a rock.Definitely not the preferred method of harvesting geese.

 

[MASTARBLASTER]

In the 40 years that followed that first fowl hunt, we would expect that your accuracy with a shotgun has improved, and the need to "smack" a bird's head with a rock has ended !


______________________________________________________________

Nothing can bring you peace but yourself; nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles .
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

[3212]

Well,there were strong winds that morning and they were out there where I hesitated to shoot until the more experienced hunters encouraged me.No more rocks though.

 

[tahunua001]

at one time I used to be able to hunt empty 22lr casings at 15 yards... now the best I can hope for is a boiler room at 200 yards... :banghead: