I've been shot at 5 separate times. Twice with rifles. Three times with shotguns. Hit (peppered) twice. Almost drowned after our 12 ft. duck boat decided it wasn't capable to handle rough water. Stared down a big boar hog at maybe 15 ft. Had to jump out of a tree about 18 feet up when the bottom of my treestand broke while standing up to shoot. But I don't have a story that comes close to H&H's elephant charge. I always am so calm during the actual crisis. It's afterwards, during reflection than I get shaky sometimes. I can only imagine that charge.....
Your Scariest Hunting Experience?
- Thread starter rcmodel
- Start date
- Status
leadcounsel
member
Not hunting, but scary experiences in mother nature...
Circa 2002 or so, my married friends John and Megan and I went on a hike and camp in the Colorado Rockies. I had a 12 gauge pump gun with me for critter protection and .357 magnum. We got off to a very late start and erected our 2 tents in the dark (one for me, one for them). We are in an open field area, at the edge of a small stream and small lake, and definitely in bear territory. We cooked a meal and it started to storm so we hurriedly got in our respective tents. Windy rainy night... O-dark-30, I awake to loud and repeated snorting coming from inside our tent perimeter. John is deaf and cannot hear it. Megan also doesn't hear it, but I swear it's happening. This goes on for what feels like forever, and we are shouting back and forth from inside our tents. More snorting. I swear I am certain there is a bear just outside my tent door. More snorting. Finally, I muster the courage to investigate. I rack a shell and with my headlamp on, I warn them to stay in their tent and I slowly unzip my tent. I expect to be face to face with a bear. Nothing there. It is pitch dark and my light can barely penetrate the darkness. More snorting coming from behind my friends' tent. I swear there is a bear there. I start moving around that way expecting to blast a bear. Nothing is there. Then it becomes apparent the snorting is my friend John clearing his sinuses - Since he's deaf and couldn't hear what I was hearing, and Megan is so accustomed to it she has blocked it out and doesn't even register it. DOH!!!! That was an extremely intense 10 minutes.
When I was about 12 years old, two friends and I were walking on the ice covered edge of a class 2 or 3, wide, deep and powerfully cold Michigan river called the Grand River. In the winter it swells and develops a real powerful undercurrent, and sometimes the edges frost and freeze over with a thin layer of ice. We were walking about 1/3rd of the way out... extremely dangerous. I broke through the ice. I looked death in the face for a few minutes as my friend and savior Joey pulled me to safety. I dodged the icey hand of death that day thanks to his courage of staying on the ice and pulling me out. I had no business surviving that incident. We were 1/3rd of the way out on the ice and had I gone under, I wouldn't have lasted 30 seconds.
Circa 2002 or so, my married friends John and Megan and I went on a hike and camp in the Colorado Rockies. I had a 12 gauge pump gun with me for critter protection and .357 magnum. We got off to a very late start and erected our 2 tents in the dark (one for me, one for them). We are in an open field area, at the edge of a small stream and small lake, and definitely in bear territory. We cooked a meal and it started to storm so we hurriedly got in our respective tents. Windy rainy night... O-dark-30, I awake to loud and repeated snorting coming from inside our tent perimeter. John is deaf and cannot hear it. Megan also doesn't hear it, but I swear it's happening. This goes on for what feels like forever, and we are shouting back and forth from inside our tents. More snorting. I swear I am certain there is a bear just outside my tent door. More snorting. Finally, I muster the courage to investigate. I rack a shell and with my headlamp on, I warn them to stay in their tent and I slowly unzip my tent. I expect to be face to face with a bear. Nothing there. It is pitch dark and my light can barely penetrate the darkness. More snorting coming from behind my friends' tent. I swear there is a bear there. I start moving around that way expecting to blast a bear. Nothing is there. Then it becomes apparent the snorting is my friend John clearing his sinuses - Since he's deaf and couldn't hear what I was hearing, and Megan is so accustomed to it she has blocked it out and doesn't even register it. DOH!!!! That was an extremely intense 10 minutes.
When I was about 12 years old, two friends and I were walking on the ice covered edge of a class 2 or 3, wide, deep and powerfully cold Michigan river called the Grand River. In the winter it swells and develops a real powerful undercurrent, and sometimes the edges frost and freeze over with a thin layer of ice. We were walking about 1/3rd of the way out... extremely dangerous. I broke through the ice. I looked death in the face for a few minutes as my friend and savior Joey pulled me to safety. I dodged the icey hand of death that day thanks to his courage of staying on the ice and pulling me out. I had no business surviving that incident. We were 1/3rd of the way out on the ice and had I gone under, I wouldn't have lasted 30 seconds.
Last edited:
v8stang289
Member
Mine is very tame compared to most up here. When I was 13 or so, me and my dad were hunting a piece of land that we accessed by taking our small boat down river and going up into a creek a ways. It was mid December and in the low 30's. We were standing on the edge of the bank beside the boat when I lost my footing and slid down the bank into the water. I slid right under the boat but caught the rail with my right hand and kept my head above water. In my left hand held above my head I was clutching my Marlin 336. My Dad got into the boat and pulled me out. He was happy I was ok and happy that I didn't drop the gun into the water. It scared the heck out of me and that ride home up river with soaked clothes was the coldest I ever remember being.
tahunua001
Member
I had my 45ACP with 13 HPs and FMJs alternated but not knowing how much adrenaline these bears would have I felt better with a full powered rifle cartridge in my hands. I was using a type 44 arisaka carbine in 6.5x50mm and it was a mechanical failure with a bar that disengages the trigger until the bolt is completely shut. I've since fixed the issue but at the time the bolt was completely seized.
everything turned out good. the bear barely made it to the treeline before he dropped so I didn't have to track at all and I only had to drag the bugger about 100 yards to my truck... luckily for me, I was very out of shape at the time.
and for what it's worth, 30 rounders are legal in idaho, I just didn't feel like packing my SKS or ARs out that day so I took my 243 as a backup.
swampcrawler
Member
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2013
- Messages
- 584
Good lord. I feel like less of a woodsman now... Never experienced anything close to most of this.
duck911
Member
8 or 9 years ago, I went duck hunting the morning after a strong storm here in Colorado.
The storm dumped 3 feet on the eastern plains. If I recall, it was Dec 3rd, and I know for sure it was -8 below with some wind, as I walked out to a spot on the Platte river near Sterling, about two miles from my truck, alone.
When I reached my spot, I was on top of a cut bank, and looked down at the sandbar with my headlamp to find a soft sandy spot to jump onto, right next to the ice ledge that had formed on the water. I took the 2 1/2 foot leap down, but the sand had been wet, so instead of the soft landing I anticipated, I hit ROCK HARD and snot-slick sand. My feet immediately went out from under me, and I pitched forward, broke through the ice, and into the South Platte. As I pitched forward, my knees cracked into the bank (read: extreme pain), my shotgun went under water, and I ended up drenched.
To this day I can remember pulling my shotgun out of the water and watching in awe as my headlamp shined in it: it froze from one tip to the other, solid, in 5 seconds, right before my eyes, and the ice continued up my gloved hands, up my sleeves, to my shoulders. In 20 seconds, I was an ice block.
Unfortunately for me, it was 10 minutes before shoot time. Had it been an hour before sunrise, I would have headed back to the truck for SURE. It was a pretty cold and dangerous situation.
But, the skies had opened up and mallards were working the river right in front of me, and a hot water slough behind me. THOUSANDS of mallards bombed the river. To this day I have never seen a morning like it.
I shoved my frozen (empty) shotgun down my waders to defrost it. I finally broke the action open, and cleared the barrel with a stick. The magazine tube was solid ice.
I was finally able to take my first shot 30 minutes into daylight - my Rem 870 having turned into a single shot. Watching those mallards while I dry humped my shotgun to defrost it was torture.
I was so cold I could only manage to throw out 3 decoys. But I shot a limit of mallards in the next 15 minutes, one shell at a time. Each miss was AGONIZING. After the last one splashed down, I grabbed my gear, and HAULED AZZ to the truck.
By the time I was in the truck my body was shutting down, shivering, and the fingertips on my right hand were waxy, white, and numb. Worse, I had to head straight into work, and had no chance to warm up with a shower. To this day, my fingers on that hand are sensitive to cold.
Looking back on it now, it was a great hunt. Also stupid as hell.
Then there was the time in North Dakota, outside of Kenmare. It was o-dark thirty, I was alone miles from anyone within earshot, and 1,000 miles from home from a wife who didn't expect to hear from me for another week.
I was walking in thigh deep water along a slough, in waders, loaded with decoys. My right leg dropped into what I think was a beaver hole that had no bottom. My momentum carried me forward and I damn near broke my leg off in the hole. More alarmingly, the drop brought the water up to my chin. I was an inch away from drowning, and had no traction/leverage to get myself out. Long story short, after about 5 minutes of struggling I was able to use my shotgun to push myself out of the hole, and to safety.
I've had a few other close calls (damn near lost it down a cliff on Deer Creek in California while hunting mountain quail, almost drown while duck hunting at Sacramento NWR, nearly flipped a boat in a raging flood coming down a slough on the Sacramento River in the middle of winter, etc, etc).
Keeps a guy on his toes!!
The storm dumped 3 feet on the eastern plains. If I recall, it was Dec 3rd, and I know for sure it was -8 below with some wind, as I walked out to a spot on the Platte river near Sterling, about two miles from my truck, alone.
When I reached my spot, I was on top of a cut bank, and looked down at the sandbar with my headlamp to find a soft sandy spot to jump onto, right next to the ice ledge that had formed on the water. I took the 2 1/2 foot leap down, but the sand had been wet, so instead of the soft landing I anticipated, I hit ROCK HARD and snot-slick sand. My feet immediately went out from under me, and I pitched forward, broke through the ice, and into the South Platte. As I pitched forward, my knees cracked into the bank (read: extreme pain), my shotgun went under water, and I ended up drenched.
To this day I can remember pulling my shotgun out of the water and watching in awe as my headlamp shined in it: it froze from one tip to the other, solid, in 5 seconds, right before my eyes, and the ice continued up my gloved hands, up my sleeves, to my shoulders. In 20 seconds, I was an ice block.
Unfortunately for me, it was 10 minutes before shoot time. Had it been an hour before sunrise, I would have headed back to the truck for SURE. It was a pretty cold and dangerous situation.
But, the skies had opened up and mallards were working the river right in front of me, and a hot water slough behind me. THOUSANDS of mallards bombed the river. To this day I have never seen a morning like it.
I shoved my frozen (empty) shotgun down my waders to defrost it. I finally broke the action open, and cleared the barrel with a stick. The magazine tube was solid ice.
I was finally able to take my first shot 30 minutes into daylight - my Rem 870 having turned into a single shot. Watching those mallards while I dry humped my shotgun to defrost it was torture.
I was so cold I could only manage to throw out 3 decoys. But I shot a limit of mallards in the next 15 minutes, one shell at a time. Each miss was AGONIZING. After the last one splashed down, I grabbed my gear, and HAULED AZZ to the truck.
By the time I was in the truck my body was shutting down, shivering, and the fingertips on my right hand were waxy, white, and numb. Worse, I had to head straight into work, and had no chance to warm up with a shower. To this day, my fingers on that hand are sensitive to cold.
Looking back on it now, it was a great hunt. Also stupid as hell.
Then there was the time in North Dakota, outside of Kenmare. It was o-dark thirty, I was alone miles from anyone within earshot, and 1,000 miles from home from a wife who didn't expect to hear from me for another week.
I was walking in thigh deep water along a slough, in waders, loaded with decoys. My right leg dropped into what I think was a beaver hole that had no bottom. My momentum carried me forward and I damn near broke my leg off in the hole. More alarmingly, the drop brought the water up to my chin. I was an inch away from drowning, and had no traction/leverage to get myself out. Long story short, after about 5 minutes of struggling I was able to use my shotgun to push myself out of the hole, and to safety.
I've had a few other close calls (damn near lost it down a cliff on Deer Creek in California while hunting mountain quail, almost drown while duck hunting at Sacramento NWR, nearly flipped a boat in a raging flood coming down a slough on the Sacramento River in the middle of winter, etc, etc).
Keeps a guy on his toes!!
splattergun
Member
oops
tightgroup tiger
Member
Mother nature experience, no animals involved but I was scouting out a new hunting area on my atv and when I got close to the river reservoir I notice they had let most of the water out of the river apparently to work on the dam.
The mud looked dried out and cracked open in pads the size of frying pans. I poked around at them with a stick and they seemed stable enough, I stepped out on the dried up mud and well it seemed to be solid.
I drive out onto this and can see another old logging or railroad clearing down the river that I didn't know was there, Every thing is going great so I drive down to it and everything is still going well.
I notice how beautiful the scenery was so I stopped and paused for a minute to take it in. When I went to start moving again I noticed my atv didn't want to go. It had slightly sunk with depressions in the mud under the tires. Nothing bad, I got off of it to look for something like small pieces of drift wood to use to get it moving again. I took ahold of the grab bar on the back of my machine to lift and the crust broke and went up to my armpits in back foul smelling soup. If I wouldn't have had ahold of the grab bar I would have gone clear under.
The mud acted as a vacuum under me pulling me down on me.
Suddenly panic took me over and I realized how stupid I was to go out there in the first place, but to late now!
I still had a hold of the grab bar on the back of the ATV and tried to pull my self back out. I could see the back of the ATV start moving while I was doing this so I stopped and just hung there trying to think of how I'm going to get myself out of this one. I started working my way back up by leaning backwards and working my legs.
I finally got worked up out of the muck and was covered with it to my arm pits. I crawled up the shore line like I was on thin ice and made it to the bank exhausted. Man did that muck stink. I found enough drift wood to re-enforce a trail back down to my ATV and went after it. It was still sitting on top of the crust and I was able to drive it back up out of there.
Definitely the stupidest thing I have ever done hunting, scouting, or other wise.
Another incident, this time not stupidity.
Another time I ruined a new shot gun small game hunting when I stepped in vent hole for an abandoned limestone mine that had grown over with bramble. It was a 2'x2' framed hole that went down 20' into the ground. I was carrying my shotgun with both hands and went I fell the shotgun was long enough to catch both sides and stop me and was the only thing hold me up. It bent the hell out of it but I was unhurt so I crawled back out of the hole, looked at my bent up shotgun and started to shake.
I very carefully started looking around the area for more holes while walking out of there and walked into a large depression in the woods. I looked at the other end of this depression and there was an entrance large enough to drive a semi- truck into. This mine had been abandoned for years from the looks of the area.
I left the area and never hunted there again.
Forest, Jefferson, and Clarion PA counties (and a lot more) were just riddled with old coal and limestone mines that were never recorded or reclaimed.
I never had problems with the black bears in our area, I just ignored them and they ignored me.
The mud looked dried out and cracked open in pads the size of frying pans. I poked around at them with a stick and they seemed stable enough, I stepped out on the dried up mud and well it seemed to be solid.
I drive out onto this and can see another old logging or railroad clearing down the river that I didn't know was there, Every thing is going great so I drive down to it and everything is still going well.
I notice how beautiful the scenery was so I stopped and paused for a minute to take it in. When I went to start moving again I noticed my atv didn't want to go. It had slightly sunk with depressions in the mud under the tires. Nothing bad, I got off of it to look for something like small pieces of drift wood to use to get it moving again. I took ahold of the grab bar on the back of my machine to lift and the crust broke and went up to my armpits in back foul smelling soup. If I wouldn't have had ahold of the grab bar I would have gone clear under.
The mud acted as a vacuum under me pulling me down on me.
Suddenly panic took me over and I realized how stupid I was to go out there in the first place, but to late now!
I still had a hold of the grab bar on the back of the ATV and tried to pull my self back out. I could see the back of the ATV start moving while I was doing this so I stopped and just hung there trying to think of how I'm going to get myself out of this one. I started working my way back up by leaning backwards and working my legs.
I finally got worked up out of the muck and was covered with it to my arm pits. I crawled up the shore line like I was on thin ice and made it to the bank exhausted. Man did that muck stink. I found enough drift wood to re-enforce a trail back down to my ATV and went after it. It was still sitting on top of the crust and I was able to drive it back up out of there.
Definitely the stupidest thing I have ever done hunting, scouting, or other wise.
Another incident, this time not stupidity.
Another time I ruined a new shot gun small game hunting when I stepped in vent hole for an abandoned limestone mine that had grown over with bramble. It was a 2'x2' framed hole that went down 20' into the ground. I was carrying my shotgun with both hands and went I fell the shotgun was long enough to catch both sides and stop me and was the only thing hold me up. It bent the hell out of it but I was unhurt so I crawled back out of the hole, looked at my bent up shotgun and started to shake.
I very carefully started looking around the area for more holes while walking out of there and walked into a large depression in the woods. I looked at the other end of this depression and there was an entrance large enough to drive a semi- truck into. This mine had been abandoned for years from the looks of the area.
I left the area and never hunted there again.
Forest, Jefferson, and Clarion PA counties (and a lot more) were just riddled with old coal and limestone mines that were never recorded or reclaimed.
I never had problems with the black bears in our area, I just ignored them and they ignored me.
Last edited:
This happened in deep East Texas,(Wood County).
While walking to my deer stand early in the am, well before sunrise, I could hear something in the woods. Figured it was a squirrel, rabbit, or 'yote. Got to my stand, could hear what sounded like a growl VERY close. My deer stand had one window in the front, so that's where my .270 was pointed lol. The growl went away......then about 30 yards from my stand I hear this crazy loud screaming, REALLY loud and like nothing I'd ever heard. When the sun came up I got out to investigate. I found very large cat tracks. Still not knowing what it was (I was about 16 at the time), I asked my grandpa when he picked me up if he heard the same. That's when he told me it was a panther screaming. Went back and looked around, found panther tracks all around my stand and parallel with my path to my stand.
Never walked to or from a stand on that lease ever again lol.
While walking to my deer stand early in the am, well before sunrise, I could hear something in the woods. Figured it was a squirrel, rabbit, or 'yote. Got to my stand, could hear what sounded like a growl VERY close. My deer stand had one window in the front, so that's where my .270 was pointed lol. The growl went away......then about 30 yards from my stand I hear this crazy loud screaming, REALLY loud and like nothing I'd ever heard. When the sun came up I got out to investigate. I found very large cat tracks. Still not knowing what it was (I was about 16 at the time), I asked my grandpa when he picked me up if he heard the same. That's when he told me it was a panther screaming. Went back and looked around, found panther tracks all around my stand and parallel with my path to my stand.
Never walked to or from a stand on that lease ever again lol.
Sliding all the way down backwards in a vehicle from 3/4 of the way up a frozen hill, with steep drops on either side. Managed to keep it straight, new driver at the time. Parked it at the bottom and walked in, so slick I could barely make it up on foot.
About 20 years ago I was hunting for hog in a hammock early in the morning with my brother. We were about 300 yards away from each other, him up in a tree stand and me sitting under a large oak tree.
About an hours into the hunt I didn't see or hear anything but the early morning strong coffee was kicking in so I felt the need to empty my bladder and maybe empty my colon soon. I leaned my rifle against the oak tree and walked over to a tree about 20 feet away and unzip and start peeing... holding my weener in my left hand and holding up my pants with the right hand.
Just as I start I hear a sound to my right and I look to see the biggest black/gray hog I've ever seen stare at me from 50 feet away. In the excitement he looked to be about 350 lb. with large lower tuskers so in reality he was probably about 250 lb. I dropped my pants and grabbed the revolver from my shoulder holster with my right hand and pointed the 357 mag revolver at the hog one handed. We stare at each other for about 5 seconds (felt like minutes) before he slowly turns left and walk down the trail. In the mean time I'm still peeing as you all know how hard it is to stop in mid stream. After he walk away I took a deep breath of relief. As I look down to pull up my pants I realize I had pee on my pants and there were couple of brown Hershey squirts on the pants too... and I had no toilet paper on me but did have a brown scarf. I sacrificed that brown scarf.
Needless to say my brother tells that story to everybody every chance he gets.
About an hours into the hunt I didn't see or hear anything but the early morning strong coffee was kicking in so I felt the need to empty my bladder and maybe empty my colon soon. I leaned my rifle against the oak tree and walked over to a tree about 20 feet away and unzip and start peeing... holding my weener in my left hand and holding up my pants with the right hand.
Just as I start I hear a sound to my right and I look to see the biggest black/gray hog I've ever seen stare at me from 50 feet away. In the excitement he looked to be about 350 lb. with large lower tuskers so in reality he was probably about 250 lb. I dropped my pants and grabbed the revolver from my shoulder holster with my right hand and pointed the 357 mag revolver at the hog one handed. We stare at each other for about 5 seconds (felt like minutes) before he slowly turns left and walk down the trail. In the mean time I'm still peeing as you all know how hard it is to stop in mid stream. After he walk away I took a deep breath of relief. As I look down to pull up my pants I realize I had pee on my pants and there were couple of brown Hershey squirts on the pants too... and I had no toilet paper on me but did have a brown scarf. I sacrificed that brown scarf.
Needless to say my brother tells that story to everybody every chance he gets.
I don't know which of the following two was more unnerving:
1) staring-down a Russian boar at about 12 feet, and being armed with a Colt, WWI 1911, .45 ACP. Three shots to drop it. Never again. I'll go back to an Encore pistol in .444 Marlin or Encore pistol in .45-70 Gov't.
--or--
2) nearly getting run-down by a 7-point whitetail. I had fired on it twice. I know I hit it. But the thing did not react at all. At the last second, I dove right, and the deer leapt to his right. We missed by maybe 12 feet. I pulled the trigger of a Weatherby Mark V, .300 Win Mag shooting shotgun style. There was no time to acquire the target in crosshairs. As it leapt into the air, the bullet struck the deer's left shoulder. It came down on its antlers, did a cartwheel, breaking off one side of its antlers, and was expired. When I got home, I examined the remaining rounds...I de-capped a couple. In error, I had grabbed the 168 grain Match projectiles. I suspect that the first two rounds simply passed through not expanding at all. Visually, they looked no different than the 165 grain HPs beside them.
Geno
1) staring-down a Russian boar at about 12 feet, and being armed with a Colt, WWI 1911, .45 ACP. Three shots to drop it. Never again. I'll go back to an Encore pistol in .444 Marlin or Encore pistol in .45-70 Gov't.
--or--
2) nearly getting run-down by a 7-point whitetail. I had fired on it twice. I know I hit it. But the thing did not react at all. At the last second, I dove right, and the deer leapt to his right. We missed by maybe 12 feet. I pulled the trigger of a Weatherby Mark V, .300 Win Mag shooting shotgun style. There was no time to acquire the target in crosshairs. As it leapt into the air, the bullet struck the deer's left shoulder. It came down on its antlers, did a cartwheel, breaking off one side of its antlers, and was expired. When I got home, I examined the remaining rounds...I de-capped a couple. In error, I had grabbed the 168 grain Match projectiles. I suspect that the first two rounds simply passed through not expanding at all. Visually, they looked no different than the 165 grain HPs beside them.
Geno
Lennyjoe
Member
Back in 1993 while hunting off the edge of a clear cut Southeast of Tacoma, Washington, I was shot at 3 times. Had a tree stand in the timbers just off the edge by the creek and I seen a red truck about 700 yds away come up a logging road and stopped. Sat there for about 15 minutes when a guy got out of the cab and rested his rifle on the truck bed. I then started looking around the clear cut to see what he was aiming at when the first shot went off and I heard the bullet fly through the branches above me. Second shot was a bit closer and by then I trained my rifle his direction. Third shot hit the tree about 15 ft above me. I proceeded to return fire and he got the point when I think I hit the bed of the truck. He ran around the front, got in the truck and took off.
My buddy came up about 15 minutes later asking what the hell I was shooting at and I told him. We got in our truck and looked for him but never found the guy and the red truck. Needless to say, we never went back there.
As for why he was shooting at me, no idea. The land wasn't private but maybe it was his favorite hunting grounds and he didn't like me being there. I had an orange hat on and he maybe had an idea of where we were based on where we parked off of the road.
My buddy came up about 15 minutes later asking what the hell I was shooting at and I told him. We got in our truck and looked for him but never found the guy and the red truck. Needless to say, we never went back there.
As for why he was shooting at me, no idea. The land wasn't private but maybe it was his favorite hunting grounds and he didn't like me being there. I had an orange hat on and he maybe had an idea of where we were based on where we parked off of the road.
have to agree that going through ice into freezing water is a bad experience.
I was up in the high Sierras many years ago ... mid winter. not hunting. i was looking for some friends doing an alpine climb - but did not locate them. worked my way down a snow slope with some brush and suddenly went through ice into water. stupid, stupid, stupid. would have been bad if it was a deep pool, because there was no-one around but me. lucky the stream was shallow. i pulled myself out of there, waded through waist-deep snow and got back to my pickup. stripped off and got some warm clothes on. fortunately, I was not too far from the vehicle.
it really pays to have someone else around in freezing conditions.
CA R
I was up in the high Sierras many years ago ... mid winter. not hunting. i was looking for some friends doing an alpine climb - but did not locate them. worked my way down a snow slope with some brush and suddenly went through ice into water. stupid, stupid, stupid. would have been bad if it was a deep pool, because there was no-one around but me. lucky the stream was shallow. i pulled myself out of there, waded through waist-deep snow and got back to my pickup. stripped off and got some warm clothes on. fortunately, I was not too far from the vehicle.
it really pays to have someone else around in freezing conditions.
CA R
tahunua001
Member
during my first elk season last year we were up on the mountain, unusually warm and dry for the mountain in november but it still rarely peaked past 40 degrees. I ended up crashing through a sheet of ice into a rain water collection bin out in the middle of nowhere. luckily the bin was only about 2 1/2 feet deep and I was wearing gators over wool pants. I was wet from just below the knee to about halfway up the thigh and my boots filled with water from wicking down the wool pants. good thing about wool pants, even when wet still held a bit of warm and my older brother's and BILs constant heckling over falling through the ice kept me moving so I didn't go extremely hypothermic, still sat in front of the tent stove for most of the night when we got back but I wasn't shivering too bad.
CajunBass
Member
Many years ago, when I was just a pup, and knew little and nothing about what I was doing, I was bow-hunting in the Pocohantas State Forest for deer. I was on the ground, with my back to a tree..it was about "dusty-dark" when suddenly I heard a CHUFFF noise behind me. The hair on the back of my head stood up. I gripped my bow tighter. My eyes were as big as coffee saucers in the black/gree/brown of my camo makeup I'm sure. Another CHUFF...then another...then it started to move...chuff, chuff, chuff...it sounded like a steam locomotive.
My logical side was telling me...It's nothing here that will hurt you." The goofy, scared, kid side was telling me...It's the Boggy Creeks Monster's bigger, uglier brother."
In a few seconds later, an old doe came out of the Laurel thicket huffing and puffing.
I had never heard a deer snort before. I'm not sure I even knew they COULD snort.
Now, if you wanted to talk about being scared in a bass boat...I got a few of those.
My logical side was telling me...It's nothing here that will hurt you." The goofy, scared, kid side was telling me...It's the Boggy Creeks Monster's bigger, uglier brother."
In a few seconds later, an old doe came out of the Laurel thicket huffing and puffing.
I had never heard a deer snort before. I'm not sure I even knew they COULD snort.
Now, if you wanted to talk about being scared in a bass boat...I got a few of those.
Last edited:
When I was a kid I went hunting with my uncle, I was a beginner at the time and never saw a bear in my life, until the day I finally seen one. I was shaking in my boots but it turns out they are not so bad after all, and if you leave them alone. They will do the same for you.
bhhacker
Member
My story happened almost a year ago today. Some buddies of mine went to a place called admiralty cove cabin up here in Juneau Alaska to hunt blacktail deer. Its on Admiralty island which is known for its brown bear population of 2-3 per square mile. I having just moved up here from Texas had my trusty 30-30 and my Glock 27 on my hip. Not the best combo for being out in Brownie territory but i used what i had.
My buddies had done a little partying that first night and had a few too many sodas the night before. When it was time to go out in the AM no one wanted to come with me. Now this place is only accessible by boat which is something i didnt own at the time, so i was going to go out and bag me a deer come hell or high water. I loaded my rifle and took it for a walk.
I was about 2 miles away from camp all by myself with not another soul around for miles. It was very quiet, serene, peaceful. I had almost given up on seeing anything when i turned the corner of the trail and heard something. I was so excited thinking it was a deer that when i rounded that corner and saw a Brown bear i almost pooped myself!
It was in some berry bushes about 30 feet away. It looked pretty busy so i thought i would be able to back off slowly without it knowing i was there. WRONG. I backed up and it turned around and stared at me. At this point I knew it was a brown bear, it was huge, and it was very close to me. I had to fight every ounce of instinct i had not to run away. I said "Hey bear" in as calm a voice as i could. It looked at me and stood up.
At this point im more than a little frightened. I wouldnt have much time at all to deal with a charge and i raise my hands as far above my head as i can and acknowledge the bear once again with a "whoa bear." I havent moved an inch.
This dang bear gets back on its fours and then it does something that REALLY creeps me out. It gets really low. The only way i can describe it is that it was like a cat ready to pounce on something, but hasnt quite bounded onto it yet. just really low to the ground and it takes a step....forward....toward me.
At this point i still have my arms up and faster than i could have ever done on my own i have that marlin shouldered and my irons on that bear and i say "NO BEAR" and i mean it. At this point it is still sizing me up, I have my freaking 30-30 beaded on a brown bear thats 30 feet away from me, with my friends most likely still passed out about 2 miles away and reality hits me. I could very well get eaten and thats the end. Me being all alone i make up the decision that if it takes one step further im going to shoot and have to tussle with this brownie.
I knew for a fact that i would get one, MAYBE two shots if i was lucky before it was on me but i had my glock on my hip and i swear to god i would give him the worst case of indigestion i could if he wanted it.
Id like to think that the bear knew my mindset when i unslung the rifle, and didnt flinch. He huffed a little bit which is usually a sign of them psyching themselves up to do something which made me even more nervous but i didnt back down. just waited for it to move with forward or back.
It turned away and ran after that. I think i walked backwards 2 miles straight and got back to camp so much faster than my trek out there!
I kicked myself later about this and to this day, i hunt out there in tandem or a larger group. That island is spooky as all get out.
My buddies had done a little partying that first night and had a few too many sodas the night before. When it was time to go out in the AM no one wanted to come with me. Now this place is only accessible by boat which is something i didnt own at the time, so i was going to go out and bag me a deer come hell or high water. I loaded my rifle and took it for a walk.
I was about 2 miles away from camp all by myself with not another soul around for miles. It was very quiet, serene, peaceful. I had almost given up on seeing anything when i turned the corner of the trail and heard something. I was so excited thinking it was a deer that when i rounded that corner and saw a Brown bear i almost pooped myself!
It was in some berry bushes about 30 feet away. It looked pretty busy so i thought i would be able to back off slowly without it knowing i was there. WRONG. I backed up and it turned around and stared at me. At this point I knew it was a brown bear, it was huge, and it was very close to me. I had to fight every ounce of instinct i had not to run away. I said "Hey bear" in as calm a voice as i could. It looked at me and stood up.
At this point im more than a little frightened. I wouldnt have much time at all to deal with a charge and i raise my hands as far above my head as i can and acknowledge the bear once again with a "whoa bear." I havent moved an inch.
This dang bear gets back on its fours and then it does something that REALLY creeps me out. It gets really low. The only way i can describe it is that it was like a cat ready to pounce on something, but hasnt quite bounded onto it yet. just really low to the ground and it takes a step....forward....toward me.
At this point i still have my arms up and faster than i could have ever done on my own i have that marlin shouldered and my irons on that bear and i say "NO BEAR" and i mean it. At this point it is still sizing me up, I have my freaking 30-30 beaded on a brown bear thats 30 feet away from me, with my friends most likely still passed out about 2 miles away and reality hits me. I could very well get eaten and thats the end. Me being all alone i make up the decision that if it takes one step further im going to shoot and have to tussle with this brownie.
I knew for a fact that i would get one, MAYBE two shots if i was lucky before it was on me but i had my glock on my hip and i swear to god i would give him the worst case of indigestion i could if he wanted it.
Id like to think that the bear knew my mindset when i unslung the rifle, and didnt flinch. He huffed a little bit which is usually a sign of them psyching themselves up to do something which made me even more nervous but i didnt back down. just waited for it to move with forward or back.
It turned away and ran after that. I think i walked backwards 2 miles straight and got back to camp so much faster than my trek out there!
I kicked myself later about this and to this day, i hunt out there in tandem or a larger group. That island is spooky as all get out.
22-rimfire
Member
Scariest moment hunting was when I was 15 or 16 hunting public lands in PA for whitetail. I was stationed at a stratigic location at the head of a hollow with a sloping wooded bench behind me below the top of the mountain. The "spot" allowed me to hunt pretty much 360 degrees around me. I hear brush/leaves cracking/crunching behind me. I get ready and see "legs" (deer legs)..... probably 75 yds from me. I'm scoping the legs hoping to see a legal buck.... all of a sudden shots rang out directed right at me. The buck drops and starts to crawl through the woods toward me.... shots keep firing... I get behind a large tree and stay put. The buck crawled with 20 yds of me and died. I was a bit irratated with the shooting.... the other hunter did not know I was there and was not in the least concerned that he had been shooting wildly in my direction. Instead he's afraid I'm going to try to claim the deer as mine. The guy was a butt. I got out of there.
Have had quite a few rattlesnake encounters in the woods. Never been bit. Been struck at. Have stepped across a rattlesnake. Not fun. That Cobra story was a bit errie. Guys I used to work with used to station dead coiled rattlesnakes where they knew I would walk. I got used to it and didn't react much while they were all giggling like kids.
Black bear charges scare the you know what out of me. Had that experience a few times in the woods.
A tiny bobcat kitten scared the you know what out of me when I tried to catch it with my hands. I can't imagine what it would feel like to face a real lion on foot.
Have had quite a few rattlesnake encounters in the woods. Never been bit. Been struck at. Have stepped across a rattlesnake. Not fun. That Cobra story was a bit errie. Guys I used to work with used to station dead coiled rattlesnakes where they knew I would walk. I got used to it and didn't react much while they were all giggling like kids.
Black bear charges scare the you know what out of me. Had that experience a few times in the woods.
A tiny bobcat kitten scared the you know what out of me when I tried to catch it with my hands. I can't imagine what it would feel like to face a real lion on foot.
CoRoMo
Member
Almost forgot about this one...
22-rimfire
Member
KC. Always Always carry TP or paper towels when hunting. A lot of us have stories along that line if you hunt much. It is one of the reasons I don't think the scent thing is as big a deal as some make it out to be. But a trophy might well be experienced enough to avoid you due to the scent.
A lot of us have stories along that line if you hunt much. It is one of the reasons I don't think the scent thing is as big a deal as some make it out to be. But a trophy might well be experienced enough to avoid you due to the scent.I had shared a few experiences at the top of this page but here is another. Probably the most scared I've ever been in the woods. A story that to some wouldn't seem like a big deal......
I had decided to go trekking through the woods one day. I love to do that. Just throw on my 44, backpack with a little food and plenty of water for a day out. Had a big patch (several thousand acres) of timber ridges, creeks, and bottom lands I wanted to go check out. Now remember this is Oklahoma. We have pretty big black bears (one killed last year topping 600lbs), and mountain lions. I've heard one lion while camping, but only saw my first one while driving back from Fayetteville AR by Lake Weddington about 3 months ago. This incident happened probably 2 years ago.
Anyways, I'm out having a great time. Nice little 5-10 mph breeze, seeing lots of deer, a few turkeys, and I'm covering some ground. I was out about 8 hours and decided I'd had enough for the day. So I start heading back. It's NOT dark but I would say it's evenings s coming on. I have my flashlight should I need it and I have cell signal and plenty of battery so my GPS is good and I have my truck marked. Basically I have all my bases covered.
Decided I could use a swig of water so I stop to take my bottle of water out of my pack to get a drink. I just get the cap off and my body goes primal. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight up. My hearing becomes amplified 10x. My eyesight which is already really good becomes even clearer and sharper. And I am absolutely terrified. Usually when I get the feeling of something watching me in the woods I just turn my head one direction and 9.8 times out of 10 I look straight into the eyes of whatever is looking at me be it a fox, coyote, or usually deer. This time I see nothing. I do a deliberate, but controlled 360 scanning everything high and low.... Nothing. But I know it's there. And it's watching..... This isn't a person. And it sure as hell isn't a deer, fox or yote. My 6th sense is telling me I'm in REAL danger.
I dropped my water, and in one motion cleared leather, cocked the hammer, and went to the low ready. I'm scanning everywhere. I hear everything. I can smell everything the wind is blowing my way. All I want is to go home. But I can't. My body is telling me that I'm not moving, not yet. I sat there, heart pounding, scanning everything for the better part of 15 minutes. But it seemed like an eternity. Then, just as fast as it came on, the feeling just went away. I gathered my pack, and my spilled water bottle, and went back to my truck with a little hurriedness.
To this day I have no idea what it was. But there isn't a doubt in my mind that when that feeling came over me, I had just become potential prey for something. And that my friends is an awful feeling.
I had decided to go trekking through the woods one day. I love to do that. Just throw on my 44, backpack with a little food and plenty of water for a day out. Had a big patch (several thousand acres) of timber ridges, creeks, and bottom lands I wanted to go check out. Now remember this is Oklahoma. We have pretty big black bears (one killed last year topping 600lbs), and mountain lions. I've heard one lion while camping, but only saw my first one while driving back from Fayetteville AR by Lake Weddington about 3 months ago. This incident happened probably 2 years ago.
Anyways, I'm out having a great time. Nice little 5-10 mph breeze, seeing lots of deer, a few turkeys, and I'm covering some ground. I was out about 8 hours and decided I'd had enough for the day. So I start heading back. It's NOT dark but I would say it's evenings s coming on. I have my flashlight should I need it and I have cell signal and plenty of battery so my GPS is good and I have my truck marked. Basically I have all my bases covered.
Decided I could use a swig of water so I stop to take my bottle of water out of my pack to get a drink. I just get the cap off and my body goes primal. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight up. My hearing becomes amplified 10x. My eyesight which is already really good becomes even clearer and sharper. And I am absolutely terrified. Usually when I get the feeling of something watching me in the woods I just turn my head one direction and 9.8 times out of 10 I look straight into the eyes of whatever is looking at me be it a fox, coyote, or usually deer. This time I see nothing. I do a deliberate, but controlled 360 scanning everything high and low.... Nothing. But I know it's there. And it's watching..... This isn't a person. And it sure as hell isn't a deer, fox or yote. My 6th sense is telling me I'm in REAL danger.
I dropped my water, and in one motion cleared leather, cocked the hammer, and went to the low ready. I'm scanning everywhere. I hear everything. I can smell everything the wind is blowing my way. All I want is to go home. But I can't. My body is telling me that I'm not moving, not yet. I sat there, heart pounding, scanning everything for the better part of 15 minutes. But it seemed like an eternity. Then, just as fast as it came on, the feeling just went away. I gathered my pack, and my spilled water bottle, and went back to my truck with a little hurriedness.
To this day I have no idea what it was. But there isn't a doubt in my mind that when that feeling came over me, I had just become potential prey for something. And that my friends is an awful feeling.
Last edited:
The_Armed_Therapist
Member
This is officially the coolest thread EVER. Thanks for the stories!
I only have one non-hunting, but wilderness story to tell. Me and a few other people were riding some ATVs through the mountains, and got to this cool little "hidden" place. We started out in the middle of nowhere, but this place was dead center of nowhere in a little valley of sorts, about an hour's ride to "base." Well, I was going a little too fast and not paying enough attention to potential dangers... I started riding up this rock that was shaped like a quarter pipe (though I didn't realize it at the time) I flew through the air and started to basically do a back flip before landing on the ground in front of the rock with the 4-wheeler on top of me.
My leg (right shin) HURT. I was sure in that moment that I had likely broken it. My ribs, arms, back, etc., were also very sore, but not as bad as the leg. I tried moving the 4-wheeler off of me, but could only budge it in one direction until I couldn't budge it anymore. I wasn't sure where the others were at. I feared that they would assume I went off on my own and not even come looking for me until who knows how long. It wasn't dusk or anything, but it was probably 5 or 6 pm in the summer, a few hours from dark. I started thinking about how I could be out there all night, or perhaps longer, and about the wild critters who would take an interest in me. All I had on me was a Kel-Tec P32 in my right pocket.
Well, I yelled for a good 10 minutes as loudly as I could, but nothing. After about 30 minutes, I heard engines approaching, so I started yelling again. They were able to spot me from about 50 yards away, rushed over, and helped me up. To my surprise, I could walk (though, with a heavy limp) on my leg, and it was not broken. I was badly bruised, but all was well. We rode back!
I have to say that while I was starting to get scared, the adrenaline and fear were intoxicating. In a weird way, that incident was the most fun I had that whole summer. HAHAHA
I only have one non-hunting, but wilderness story to tell. Me and a few other people were riding some ATVs through the mountains, and got to this cool little "hidden" place. We started out in the middle of nowhere, but this place was dead center of nowhere in a little valley of sorts, about an hour's ride to "base." Well, I was going a little too fast and not paying enough attention to potential dangers... I started riding up this rock that was shaped like a quarter pipe (though I didn't realize it at the time) I flew through the air and started to basically do a back flip before landing on the ground in front of the rock with the 4-wheeler on top of me.
My leg (right shin) HURT. I was sure in that moment that I had likely broken it. My ribs, arms, back, etc., were also very sore, but not as bad as the leg. I tried moving the 4-wheeler off of me, but could only budge it in one direction until I couldn't budge it anymore. I wasn't sure where the others were at. I feared that they would assume I went off on my own and not even come looking for me until who knows how long. It wasn't dusk or anything, but it was probably 5 or 6 pm in the summer, a few hours from dark. I started thinking about how I could be out there all night, or perhaps longer, and about the wild critters who would take an interest in me. All I had on me was a Kel-Tec P32 in my right pocket.
Well, I yelled for a good 10 minutes as loudly as I could, but nothing. After about 30 minutes, I heard engines approaching, so I started yelling again. They were able to spot me from about 50 yards away, rushed over, and helped me up. To my surprise, I could walk (though, with a heavy limp) on my leg, and it was not broken. I was badly bruised, but all was well. We rode back!
I have to say that while I was starting to get scared, the adrenaline and fear were intoxicating. In a weird way, that incident was the most fun I had that whole summer. HAHAHA
The_Armed_Therapist
Member
Absolutely!
- Status
