Your Scariest Hunting Experience?

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I ain't skeered o' nothing.

I have a couple of underwear changing stories involving turkey hunting.
It has probably happened to a lot of people but several years ago I set up on a roosted tom and started my soft calling only to glance to my left after a few minutes and see a monstrous bobcat standing maybe 10 feet away from me It really was a very large male and I have the hide to prove it. Even if I hadn't shot the cat my day was ruined because it scared the crap out of me(not literally but almost).
On another turkey hunt I sat up to begin a calling sequence and had about a 6' eastern diamondback crawl almost across the toes of my boots right after it got good light. I had to let him crawl right past me, which he did without stopping, until he got far enough away for me to shoot him. I am not scared of snakes at all and will often catch them and move them to other areas but this one had my skin literally crawling.
During deer season 3 years ago I had a large owl, I don't know my owls so can't say what kind, land on a limb maybe 2 feet away from me and I didn't know he was there until he was in the act of landing. I scared him worse than he scared me.
Last year a squirrel actually jumped from the oak tree I was hunting in and attempted to land on the barrel of my rifle. That one caused me to scream like a little girl but it made me realize I was well camouflaged, still and quiet.
 
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.
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Chupacabra!
 
It's funny you say Sasquatch actually. I don't believe he exists. But the town 9 miles north of me is the #1 place in the world for sightings of Bigfoot. No joke. The funny thing is there isn't a damn thing there but pastures and cattle. Bigfoot couldn't hide if he wanted to. I was about 20 miles south of town.
 
I do my hunting near Jay. So I am pretty close to you. I have to say...I am not much of a believer either. We would see some dead squatches eventually. Most people in that area are believers though. Seems like everyone has a story. But I have seen big ol bobcats and mountain lions on deer cams. I haven't personally seen any bear, but don't doubt it.
 
I wasn't a believer either until I saw one. Scared the @#@#$ out of me. I don't blame people for not believing in Bigfoot. There is a good argument for not. However, I don't know a single person that has had an encounter that does not believe now...
 
Quote:
Originally Posted by BigBore44 View Post

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.

Sasquatch!
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I actually just had a conversation about this last with a guy who does big foot tours. Now understand I am very skeptical of people like him but he offered me a free trip to where there are sightings so I kept a mild interest.
His words about being near a sasquatch were almost exactly the same as what you described. Might just be fight or flight but who knows.
 
A long time ago I had a drunk drive by our remote hunting camp while everyone (about 8 folks total) was sitting by the campfire. I was just a kid of about 19 or 20, but I instantly got a bad vibe from the dude. I went to my truck to get away from him. He pulled out a pistol grip shotgun and began waving it in the general direction of came. That was the closest I ever came to needing a gun in the woods for defense. I was prone under the truck with my hunting rifle, a pre 64 Winchester .30-30. He was just 'messing with us' but it could have got ugly. Oddly, I was the only one who left the ring of illumination cast by the fire to seek cover and a firearm. I felt like I responded well, but I would have liked to have a sidearm on my person instead of in the truck with the rifle. Live and learn.
 
I once had a friend open up on a deer.......that was standing directly between us. He emptied his Winchester 94 and never actually hit the deer or me, but he scared the %@$# out of me.

After I gave him an earful, we headed back down to the car. Along the way, he saw a squirrel run out and opened up again. On the last shot, he actually hit the squirrel.....the previous rounds having hit a picnic table, an outhouse (twice), and the hood of his car, none of which he saw when he was shooting. It took a great deal of restraint to keep from wrapping the barrel of that 94 around his neck.

Also, I once fell out of a redwood tree when going after a crow. Fortunately there were many branches between me and the ground, so I only free fell the last 12 feet or so.
 
Fly in float out hunt for moose in Alaska. Remote river no roads or even trails. Just me, solo hunt. Pre sat phone, no commutation. Shoot a moose first day, spend next two cutting it up and packing it into the raft. My pick up point is 15 miles down river were a logging road hit the river. I badly underestimated my time to float out and left at noon. Get's dark at 8. Well at 7:30 I realize no way I'm going to make it. So [thank God] I found a sand bar I can pull the raft up on. Mind you I've got a raft full of moose meat and it's my only means of getting out of there.
Guys that was the most bear infested place in Alaska I've ever seen. That sand bar did not have a square foot that did not have a bear track. Big bears, little bears. I spent the entire night firing my .22 pistol into the air to let the bears know I was there with my 30-06 in my lap.
Most beautiful dawn I've ever seen. Took off at first light and floated 4 hours to my take out point.
 
Not a personal story, as I've been fortunate enough not to encounter the dread Rabbit of Caerbannog during any of my small game and varmint hunting.

However, one of my older brothers was deer hunting in the NC mountains once upon a time, properly decked out in bright hunter orange for the trip. He was leaning against a big ole Oak tree, looking down a valley when a jeep pulled up in the valley. Guy got out with a rifle mounting a scope that my brother described as "able to count the hairs on a fly's *ss at a hundred yards".

Guy looked right at him through the scope and put a bullet in the tree right above my brother's head.

Being a wee bit perturbed at being shot at, my brother put a few 30-30 slugs into the guy's jeep, prompting him to scramble and leave.

A few hours later a game warden came through the area. Evidently the other guy reported having been shot at and he was following up on it. My brother said "Yeah, I saw the guy you're talking about." He described what happened, showed him the tree he was standing at with the tiny hole, and admitted to shooting back at the guy's jeep.

Game warden's response? "That's about what I thought happened."

Then he left.


Whether people think my brother's response was right or wrong, I'm just thankful he's still alive and well nearly 4 decades later.
 
Your scariest hunting experience ?

Not actually hunting but getting ready to. Many years ago just before archery season BC (before compounds) I decided Iwould learn to bow hunt. With a rummage sale bow and three gen-u-whine Fred Bear cedar arrows ( points came glued on in those days) I set up two bales of straw in a vacant lot next to my father-in-laws place and begin to shoot. Next door to the lot lived a woman everyone called Lucky. Handsome woman, sturdy built, large chested. Worked in the medical field in some capacity. Not married, no kids. Apparently my shooting drew her attention and she came out on her veranda with a glass of tea to watch the goin's on. She was wearing a yellow pattern house dress of the kind common in those days. Barefoot. As I shot, one of my arrows slid between the bales and went off into the grass so I went to look for it. As I kicked an moved the grass around I bumped a field mouse nest and a large one came out and jumped on the toe of my boot. It looked at me and I at it for a second or so and then I shook my boot to knock it off but instead of jumping off, it went up my pant leg. I dropped the bow and began to do a little happy dance to shake the mouse out. I was afraid to grab it lest it bite me. I wear boxer shorts so the door to the vault was open and in an instant the mouse was in with the family jewels. While gerbils n' rats n' such running around in your shorts may be common in Calif. and D.C., here in Mi. It was cause for alarm. Casting all modesty aside I began to de-pants myself right there. While still dancing and struggling with my belt I took a step or two backwards and fell on my back. Now, Lucky seen the whole deal from about 50 ft. and presumed from the dancing and falling that I was having a seizure of some sort and instantly came to my aid. Suddenly, as I lay there with my belt and trousers loosened there was a large woman on top of me, yelling for help trying to jam something in my mouth to keep me from swallowing my tongue. Since my pants were loose and he was being squashed the mouse made his escape up under my sweatshirt, out the neck and on to Lucky's chest. Lucky had dread fear mice and immediately rolled off onto her back screaming, "Get him off me! Get him off me!" I got up on my knees then and with pants still drooping and between Lucky's legs began to try to keep the dang mouse from going down her dress. Into this mess, drawn by Lucky's original call for help, came my wife (Ex now), from her father's garage. As I lay in the ER (getting stitches in my head) I considered how fortunate I was that the old man only had a shop broom in the garage and not a shotgun. Charging elephants an' bears an' such can certainly be scary, but a field mouse will kill you.
 
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.
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I had a very similar feeling near Cougar Reservoir in Oregon many years ago on an otherwise unremarkable camping trip. I was walking alone in a stand of trees not far from the road that runs along the reservoir, on my way back up into the hills where the campsite was. But for no apparent reason, every sense was suddenly elevated and I felt absolute hard-wired fear. There was nothing around me I could see, no sign of any trouble or animal.

Since then I've done some stupid things like crawling through bear tunnels in the dense underbrush over gigantic brown bear prints (lots of them) to get to a marginally better fishing hole. I've been chased by moose, seen quite a few bear, been in an epic car crash, etc. But never had that feeling.

What was it? It could have just been some short-circuit in the brain pan. But I suspect there was someone around there looking to do bad things. It was an isolated area near a road that connects to a highway, and there's no law enforcement to speak of. For whatever reason I wasn't on his menu. Maybe he was hunting women. And there are things in this world that do precisely that. Only they ain't bigfoot. And you could talk to one and never know the truth, except maybe that little voice in the back of your head does.
 
Maybe Im doing the wrong kind of hunting. My biggest concerns are if my Buddy Heater is still carbon monoxide safe for my insulated and drywalled hunting blind.
 
I was hunting coyote up in a high desert valley area in the Colorado mountains. I was wearing a ghillie suit. some ***-hats moved in on an elevated point and started "target shooting" out into thin air. turned out i was pretty damed close to the area the bullets started striking about 900-1000 yards out from where they were shooting. first i saw/heard the bullets strike a few meters from me, then i heard the BOOMs.

That'll get your blood pumping!
 
I wasn't hunting but when I was a teenager I lived on a semi private lake in the country. I was checking my trot lines about daylight one morning when this guy started shooting at me with a shotgun. the pellets were landing all around my boat and even hit it with a few. I dove into the bottom of the boat and started yelling at him. apparently he was shooting at a squirrel multiple times.....
 
I was with my brother and we were deer hunting. I think we were about 14 or 15 years old. We each had NEF single shot 20 gauges.

We reached our hunting spot, that was on the edge of a field. We were set up in some brush overlooking the hay field. During that time, it wasn't unusual to see 20+ deer in the evening there. Sadly, now you only see about 2.

Anyway, rules of the hunt were, first one to see is the first to shoot. We were side by side.

My brother saw the first deer. I heard what sounded like a cannon before my ears started ringing. We looked at his barrel, and it looked like a bugs bunny cartoon. The barrel blew and looked like a peeled banana.

Apparently he dropped the shotgun when crossing a fence and didn't check the barrel. Couldn't hear much out of my left ear for 3 days. It did give us experience in sawing down a shotgun barrel though.
 
I have heard the zip-bang of bullets passing over me while lying flat in a tire rut in an over crowded public hunting area.
 
Never experienced something scary, in the way some of you have.
But I've been more than uncomfortable.

Went trough the ice when I was two centimeters away from the beaver I just killed.
The water wasn't too deep, I had it up to my chin. But still, cold as *****, and I couldn't climb back onto the ice.
So I grabbed the beaver with my left hand, and smashed the ice with my right as I walked back to dry land.
My dad was taking pictures, and my brother was just pissed that I got my beaver before him.
When I finally made it back, my brother somehow got me into the car and drove me home. Just dragged myself in the shower and slowly defrosted.
I don't usually care about cold temperatures, living in the mountains of Norway will do that to you.:D
But when your clothes are sheets of ice... Brrr...
After smashing the ice I got some scrapes and cuts in my hand, they didn't close up for days. Probably something to do with the cold.

My life wasn't actually in danger, but I'm not sure that's a good enough reason to try it again...
 
Christmas leave, 1970. I was home from Naval Academy, and ferrying the last two of our group of duck hunters back across lake. Way dark. In an overloaded 12 foot Jon boat. We heard ducks overhead. The guy in the front seat jumped up and screamed "Ducks."

When he stood up, the bow went down, and water came in/over the bow. Time went to slow motion. My thought was of the WWII newsreels of submarines submerging. I turn off outboard, closed gas cap vents and grabbed shotguns. By now we were treading ice water. My two buddies panicked.. We we 200 or so yards from shore. I gave one guy my shotgun, grabbed him around chest and started for the nearest shore, a small island. We both had on life jackets.

The second guy was holding on to a big bag of decoys. He was going nuts. I had him hold on to strap from the first guys life jacket and headed for the island.

We made it to shore and yelled across the open water that we had capsized. I remember watching the car lights going up the dirt road at the speed of heat. The driver basically burst into some house and called for help.

The worst deal was that the head rescue squad guy who picked us up and towed the boat back turned out, in time, to be my future father in law!

Anyone want to take the over/under on how many times I have had to hear that story, at family functions, in 31 years of marriage?
 
Last year I was doing a deer drive in a northern part of the state. It was rifle country and knowing the area I wanted a rifle not a shotgun (I frequent the southern part of the state) so I took my AR, it was the only gun I had SP for at the time. So a group of about 13 of us start pushing a cornfield being loud, and keeping in visual contact, when the 3rd guy to my right called out "BEAR!" he was about 110 ft away and the largest black I have ever seen. (may have been the fear) It started hauling away at top speed. My AR felt really really small that day.
 
ICE!

Ice
Ice over deep water
Ice over deep running water
Ice over deep running water while wearing snowmobile boots
Ice over deep running water while wearing snowmobile boots and alone... all alone.

Jack London had nothing on that afternoon!

Makes my teeth hurt and nails itch just to recall it.

Been bit by rattlers (yup - plural), hit by cars, clotheslined on motorcycles (yup - plural again) had a chute fail and been to a Juarez cat-house on a Sunday night and nothin' came close to falling through ice on moving water wearing Gumby boots with nothing but the early stars as witness.

There's alone... There's scared!
 
While still hunting squirrels, sitting under a tree, as can happen, somebody (who me ?), fell asleep. Upon awakening, a rattlesnake was on this somebody's chest. What happened ? Couldn't do nuttin', so just went back to sleep. Not !
 
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