Funny hunting stories....

[DaveS]

Let's hear your funny hunting story (a good lie will work), and I'll start off...(true story).

 

Back around 2004 during the Bow season, we had some bad storms and a tornado come through Stewart and Montgomery County. Well, my son and myself went bowhunting on Barkley WMA in Stewart County. I got into my tree stand before daylight and waited for the buck I had seen a hundred times while scouting the area. Right at shooting light, I seen a dark brown critter coming down through the thicket, heading right into an opening. I stood in my stand, came to full draw with my bow, just seconds away from putting an arrow through a deer. Well, this thing...a brown CHICKEN, yes sir a BROWN CHICKEN emerged from the thicket. I eased the bow down in total shock! This chicken must have gotten blown in from the tornado, as the closest house was about a mile away. Needless to say I was so amused by this chicken, I couldn't even shoot. I could only imagine what would be said if I "checked in" a chicken. Memories indeed!

 

What's your funniest moment?

 

I have some more I will tell in a bit!

 

Dave "Hawg Daddy" Seyr.

Edited July 28, 2013 by DaveS

[UncleJak]

My dad, uncle, cousin, and I all went squirrel hunting on some old family land. We spotted a huge squirrel nest  up a tree and saw what we thought was the biggest squirrel ever running around in it.  Dad sends me around the backside of the tree to scare the squirrel to his side.  I do, he shoots, and this giant "squirrel" comes  crashing down breaking branches as it falls. It hits with a loud thud!  It was a opossum! 

[DaveS]

My dad, uncle, cousin, and I all went squirrel hunting on some old family land. We spotted a huge squirrel nest  up a tree and saw what we thought was the biggest squirrel ever running around in it.  Dad sends me around the backside of the tree to scare the squirrel to his side.  I do, he shoots, and this giant "squirrel" comes  crashing down breaking branches as it falls. It hits with a loud thud!  It was a opossum.

Now that's funny!

 

DaveS

Hawg Daddy

[Wiljo05]

Coyote hunting here in mid tn, was running a mouth call looking downwind and heard something behind me....CLOSE behind me. I had a little cover so I slowly turned to my left and saw nothing. As I slowly turned my head back to 12 o clock I spot it at give or take 4 feet! It had walked to my right as i turned left. At that range, Helen Keller could have seen and heard the skunk! To this day I don't know how I didn't get sprayed since I yelled like a school girl and froze in a staring contest. It felt like 10 min but was all of 45 seconds it just looked at me, then sauntered off. That's my funniest story I can think of right now

[KahrMan]

I was hunting down in Alabama a couple of years ago on a Sunday during the playoffs.  My buddy and I had been watching football, drinking beer and eating hot wings Saturday night.  Well I had not been hunting long before nature called.  With the beer and hot wings, lets just say it was not pleasant.  I had no sooner pulled my pants up when a buck comes running in snorting and grunting up a storm.  i guess he was looking for the other "buck" he had heard grunting.  I dropped him with a quick shot before I had even buckled my pants.

Edited July 29, 2013 by KahrMan

[gunwhatgun]

Me and a buddy went squirrel hunting about 20+ years ago. his dad ended up walking along with us but not hunting. I was quite the novice and very excited about my second hunting trip. After about 30 minutes I got one and dropped it in the pouch on the back of my vest. About 20 minutes later as we were relocating I felt something move on the small of my back. I instanly knew what was wrong, The squirrel was still alive. I knew instantly how to handle this situation, I ran as hard as I could backwards and slammed into a tree, then would step forward and would thrust back into the tree trying to save myslef from the impending revenge of a stunned squirrel. On about the third time slamming by trophy into the tree I noticed my buddy and his dad laughing hysterically and the stick that the dad used to poke me in the back still in his hand.

[Chris]

I was trapping coon last season and had a big boar in a body trap. No signs of life when I approached. I'd forgotten my .22 so I popped him in the head w/ a rock just to be sure. Nothing, no breathing, nada. Still, just to be sure, I put him underwater for a couple of minutes while I checked the rest of the traps. I carried him back to the cabin and got the body out of the trap. The second the trap was loose, he came back to life and started trying to crawl away. I jumped back and durn near ruined my drawers. He'd been trapped, stoned and drowned and was still going. At that point I figured  "zombie coon" and dealt with it in the traditional manner.

[whiskey]

I was hog hunting with a buddy in south Florida one afternoon when nature called. I told him to go on ahead on the trail and I would catch up after I had finished my business. We were in planted pines and the forest floor was covered with 4 foot palmettos. I slipped off the trail a few yard and found a comfy spot. Just as I dropped trousers and squatted my buddy jumped a herd of pigs just up trail from me. I heard the squealing and palmetto rustling and realized they were headed right towards me. I desperately tugged at the .44mag on my loose belt with my left hand, while my right held firmly to my anchor sapling. As the hogs got closer, the gun finally came out of the holster. I cocked the hammer and pointed towards the noise, fully expecting to have a face to face encounter in the next seconds. The palmettos were so thick I couldn't see more than 4 feet in any direction. Finally the hogs passed without me seeing one. I finished and gathered myself, chuckling at the prospect of having to fire that Ruger .44mag one-handed from a squatted position, bare-assed, and the likelihood that I would have fallen backwards fulfilling every woodsman's worst bathroom nightmare. When I popped back out of the trial, there was my buddy. He said, I thought that old saying was going to come true, you know the one... I thought you went to crap and the hogs ate you... LOL. 

[Timestepper]

Not specifically a hunting story (although some of the "lessons" contained were learned while hunting), but rather a "letter of introduction" to aquaint a former supervisor of mine with the Rocky Mountains: (FWIW, it was also the first piece I had published.)

 

Dear Boss:

Congratulations on having chosen the Colorado Rocky Mountains as your vacation spot this year! As you may know, even though I'm originally from Kansas, I have spent a great deal of time in the Rockies. In fact, due in large part to inaccurate maps, faulty compasses and the mysterious geologic forces which strive to constantly re-arrange otherwise familiar landmarks - I have probably spent more time in the Colorado back country than most members of the search and rescue team. At any rate, I am convinced that you, yourself could not have picked a better destination.

I must admit that I am honored that you have come to me for advice and I commend you on your excellent judgment. Naturally, over the years, I have acquired an almost encyclopedic knowledge on this subject and you may believe me when I say that I have forgotten more than you know.

From the time of Zebulon Pike to present there have been literally thousands of books and articles authored on the subject of camping and living in the Rocky mountains So many so that my wife jokingly inquired as to why anyone over the age of eight who owns a library card would willingly come to me for advice. I politely informed her that I, for one, could understand your wanting to learn things that only a real expert like myself would know!

With that in mind, Boss, I have decided not to fill your brain with information easily obtained from other sources. Instead, I have enclosed the following list of things you should NOT do while you are in the mountains. I know you should not do these things, because unfortunately, I have done them all at some point in the past. Needless to say, the results have ranged from just thoroughly embarrassing to damn near disastrous!

Good Luck Boss! May you learn at least as much from my "adventures" as I have...

Things you should NOT do in the Mountains
(Or anywhere else for that matter!)

1. Do not wrap an egg in clay and place it the campfire to cook.

2. Do not try to start a campfire using only a mouthful of brandy and a Zippo lighter.

3. No matter how cute and cuddly it may look - Do not try to pet a baby porcupine.

4. Never try to kill a skunk with a banjo!

5. Never try to bluff a moose...

6. Never try to cross a stream on any log which is more than ten feet above the water - Especially if the water is less than three feet deep!

7. Never leave your clothes more than a mile from where you are actually "skinny-dipping."

8. NEVER allow yourself to be convinced that riding a plastic toboggan down a two thousand foot snow mass and into a mountain lake would be "a really neat thing to do!"

9. Do not sneak up on your camp partner and "woof" like a grizzly - Especially if they are holding a cast iron skillet or a fly rod.

10. Do not throw rocks or pinecones at your camp partner when they in the bushes answering the call of nature - Especially if they are bigger and meaner than you are.

11. Do not throw rocks or pinecones at any stump that looks like a sleeping bear.

12. If you must climb a tree to escape from a recently awakened bear, do NOT disturb anything which looks like a yellow jacket nest (at least until AFTER you are past it).

And finally - Even if the hornets choose to go after the bear and leave you with only a few stings - Do not jump up and down, clap your hands and laugh uproariously while you are still standing in the uppermost branches of a pine tree!

 

 

...TS...

[ShaunM]

2 years ago during spring Turkey, I took a buddy of mine out. We sat up started to call and immediately had turkeys gobbling. I new it was just jakes but I heard at least one good Tom on the opposite ridge. As I was calling I kept hearing a crinkling sound. For about 5 minutes I couldn't figure out where this sound was coming from. The jakes came in quietly and I turned to my buddy to see if he wanted to shoot one and before I said anything he asked if I wanted a bite of his breakfast sandwich. Well the turkeys scattered and the hunt was over. The whole time I was calling him in his first turkey he was eating a breakfast sandwich which was wrapped in tinfoil. I was so still I didn't even know he was eating the dang thing just heard the wrapper. Got to love friends.

[whiskey]

2 years ago during spring Turkey, I took a buddy of mine out. We sat up started to call and immediately had turkeys gobbling. I new it was just jakes but I heard at least one good Tom on the opposite ridge. As I was calling I kept hearing a crinkling sound. For about 5 minutes I couldn't figure out where this sound was coming from. The jakes came in quietly and I turned to my buddy to see if he wanted to shoot one and before I said anything he asked if I wanted a bite of his breakfast sandwich. Well the turkeys scattered and the hunt was over. The whole time I was calling him in his first turkey he was eating a breakfast sandwich which was wrapped in tinfoil. I was so still I didn't even know he was eating the dang thing just heard the wrapper. Got to love friends.

Not everyone is a turkey hunter. :)

 

Speaking of funny turkey hunts...

 

This past spring I was hunting in KY with a friend. We had a great morning set up that resulted in calling in a pair of longbeards. Unfortunately they hung up too far out. Around lunch, we pack up and moved to another field to do some mid day blind sitting. Well my friend stepped in a creek and got his socks wet on the way to the blind. When we got to the blind he proceeded to pull off his boots and hang his wet socks out of the front window of the blind. It was warm, so I pulled my boots off too. We sat there and played around with several calls, swapping them back and forth, trying different strikers. Then we decided to take a short nap. With my buddy almost asleep, I caught movement across the field. TURKEY! I woke him up and said, "Get your gun, turkeys headed our way." I picked up my call and coaxed the big tom across the field. When he was still 100 yards out, my buddy whispered, "We don't have shoes on. Who's gonna run out and get the bird." It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. The bird worked it's way in and my buddy hammered it at 15 yards. We slipped our boots on and walked out to the bird only to find that he had shot a little low and blown the beard clean off. 

 

Then, if that wasn't enough, we were standing around packing up and the turkey was laying on the ground near me. I looked over at it and some something moving on the bird. I inched closer and saw a weird greenish gray foot clawing from it's feathers! It's fair to say I was freaked out! We got a stick and poked around and out crawls a toad! Not sure how long he had been riding on the turkeys back, but it just added to an already funny hunt. 

Edited August 1, 2013 by whiskey

[ShaunM]

Whiskey I think I know what friend your talking about. If so I can see him saying that lol.

[whiskey]

Whiskey I think I know what friend your talking about. If so I can see him saying that lol.

Yes you do, and you probably know how hard it is to take anything seriously when he's involved.

[ShaunM]

Yes I do lol. I remember him telling me about that.

[Timestepper]

I almost hate to add this to the mix, but I know of some who will appreciate it and a few others who will be glad it wasn't them. (This was also published in "Muzzle Blasts" magazine a few years back.)

 

About #$%@* years ago (back when the earth was still cooling), I had the opportunity to get in on a week long survival outing. It was intended to be real live mountain man stuff with nothing to eat but what you shoot or catch or gather. This was in September of 19*#. Starting to cool, but warm enough during the day.

 

My regular outfit back then was moccasins, breechcloth and leggings. I almost never wore a shirt. I carried my rifle and shooting bag everywhere I went. My camp name or buckskinning handle back then was "White Man who falls on Ass" although most called me "Wumwufoa", which is the phonetic pronunciation of the acronym. (W.M.W.F.O.A.) Or just "Wumwuf" for short.

 

All in all, there were about 12 or 13 of us on this particular outing and things were really looking positive. We were camped in a primitive area, several miles from the nearest road with a couple of lean tos for shelter. We had a high of 75 degrees on the Thursday we started. And we had our guns and plenty of powder and lead... That's about as far as the positive part went...

 

On Thursday night, it started raining. When we crawled out from under our blankets Friday morning there was 8 inches of fresh snow on the ground. But, hey! We were roughin' it like Bridger and Carson and we were in good shape! Especially, after I borrowed a buckskin shirt so my "stipples wouldn't nick out."

 

Anyway, we were having a great time except that no one could find anything to kill! I guess the snow storm had run all the critters back into their holes. And being as how it was a wet snow, it didn't take much time to get soaked to the skin. So we spent a lot of time hunkered around the fire talking about how nice it would be not to have to spend all our time hunkering around the fire. And boy, wouldn't it be nice if a big ol' 12 course meal would wander into camp just looking for someone to eat it!

 

It snowed another 4 inches on Saturday and we decided that maybe we oughtta' start gettin' serious about finding something to kill, before "Fat Jenkins" started getting REAL hungry. Besides being an eating machine, Fat was also one of the best stalkers I've ever known. He was 5'6" tall, nearly that wide, and could move like a ghost. He was phenomenal!

 

Anyway, Sunday morning we split into 3 groups of 4 with one man left in camp to tend the fire and hog tie any stray 12 course meals that happened to wander by. We hunted pretty much all day long and finally managed to take 8 or 9 rabbits. The man we left in camp said he didn't see so much as an after dinner mint, let alone a 12 course banquet - We accused him of sleeping on the job.

 

After an unfortunately light meal, supplemented with judicious applications of Taos Lightning and Grumpy's "Moon Juice", we turned in under the light of a nearly full moon. Since my leggings and borrowed shirt had become soaked, I took them off and hung them over a bush at the edge of camp, then crawled between my blankets with my rifle and shooting bag close to hand. (Like a real Mountain Man.)

 

About 4 O'clock the next morning, I awoke to the sound of laughter. When I roused up and asked what the hell was going on, a guy we called "Stinky" pointed at a coyote running up the side of the steep hill to the west. I looked and sure as heck, it WAS funny to watch! Every few steps the poor critter would stumble like he was getting tangled up in something, and slide back down the hill a few feet.

 

All of us were up by then, laughing like fools at the misfortune of that poor, dumb beast. Then I happened to glance at the bush where I'd left my legging's... Then I looked back at the coyote... Then back at the bush - GIMME BACK MY LEGGINS, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!!

 

Well, I grabbed my rifle and took off on a dead run. Behind me I could hear someone hollering "Get 'im, Wumwuf, sic 'im boy!" And raucous peels of laughter.

 

The temperature had dropped during the night and what had been WET snow was now slightly dryer and considerably hardened ice. After falling twice I discarded my rifle, considering it to be an impediment to my progress. (Not to mention the fact that it hurt like a b*tch when I landed on it!) Having lost sight of the coyote, I had no idea that he had dropped my leggins and headed for parts unknown.

 

The guys in camp were still hollering things like "Sic 'em, Wumwuf!" And "Yer a gainin' on 'im now, hoss!" in between snorts of laughter.

 

I was roughly half way up the hill (a good 250 feet) when I slipped for the third (and last!) time. All I really remember is my feet going up in the air and blurry scenery. Needless to say, I came back to camp considerably faster than I left it... Luckily, my breechcloth caught on a snag on the way back down and slowed my progress enough that I didn't slide completely through camp.

 

...I don't remember who finally fetched my leggings for me, but I do seem to recall that it was a couple of days before I could stand to wear 'em again, what with the major league rug burns I'd picked up from sliding on the ice. The bright spot was that I killed a nice doe while laying on my blankets in camp later that morning while everyone else was out hunting. (Which served to bouy my spirits considerably, knowing that I was no longer the dumbest creature in the vacinity.)

 

All in all, our survival outing was a success, although for some reason we never tried it again. The snow had melted almost completely by the time we hiked out, and except for the psychological ones, I have no permanent scars.

 

Now, after a little more than thirty years, I still (as you might imagine) have yet to live this episode down. Although the fact that I don't hang around with any of those guys any longer makes the memory easier to live with.

 

And, oh yes, someone did have the presence of mind to snap a few pictures of my wild "ride". ...But fortunately they all came out blurry...

 

 

...TS...

[Patton]

I was 11yo in the fall of 1991. This was my second year hunting, had my own Marlin 30-30 and I knew how to shoot. I had been hunting about 6 times prior but no deer had been harvested. On my first deer hunt I had a 6-8 pointer come running full speed through the woods because the kid down the hill shot at it 3 times and missed. So anyway, juvenile weekend I am sitting on this little wooded hill in Tiftonia right beside I-24, you could actually hear the vehicles on the interstate. Through some clearings you could see Moccasin Bin across the river. This was my first time to hunt here, it was supposed to be the hottest spot for deer but no one knew about it. So that morning after about sitting there for 30 minutes I feel sick at my stomach. My dad and I hike back to the truck and drive 5 minutes to my grandparents house for meds. I tell him I feel like going back. We load back up and go back. After about 30 minutes I throw up, it's 10:30 at this point. We stand up to leave and damn if there weren't 3 does watching us. I raise the Marlin and squeeze the trigger, she goes down with a headshot. She was kicking and flopping. She went motionless after about 3 minutes. We haul the big girl out of there. Supposedly the area has been about hunted out, I don't know who owns it anymore, and there is a huge house close by now. I didn't go hunting for about 4years after that, I got into bow hunting so I didn't have to sit in the cold.

[Oh Shoot]

A number of stories, but one "funny" one (grim laugh) didn't really hit me till years later when I got eaten up with beer can collecting:

 

In the 60's, me and some pals were squirrel hunting for the weekend in Tellico and somebody brought a couple cases of James Bond's 007, a mixture of malt liquor and beer, not out for very long, was really only tested in various markets, and East TN was one.

 

 

We drank 'em (vile stuff) shot 'em up, and trashed them.

 

The kicker: they were worth $200 each in grade 1 condition by the time I started collecting in the late 70's, and easily $500 and up now, so we trashed around $25,000!

 

- OS

Edited August 22, 2013 by Oh Shoot

[tennessee01tacoma]

I have 2 both involving my stepdad, he taught me everything I know about hunting and trapping.

First story, we used to coyote hunt a lot, we both used ghile suits and one time we were calling for about 5 minutes shut the call off and wait, while we were watching the field something was watching us , my step dad was laying there and the bam, a hawk swoops down and grabs his ghile hat off his head and carries it out into the field.

The other story is from when we were trapping we caught a grey fox and whacked him across the skull released and reset the trap, put him in a bucket and carried him back to our Suzuki samurai. We drive about 7 minutes to another farm and when my stepdad gets the bucket out the fox raises up and jumps out of the bucket and takes off flying, the farmer ask I we caught anything and we had to tell him no but we brought him one.