What’s your spookiest hunting experience?

[J-L]

Elk hunting eagles nest wilderness about a decade ago, had hiked in 2 miles from I-70 and set up a spike camp, opening morning hiked in another mile or so to the top of a ridge.

Was sitting there, glassing, was very quiet , no birds squirrels nothing ,i got a little spooked decided to get up and move to a new spot on looked over and saw this.

Who knows how long its been out there, 50 years maybe, figured someones buried out there in the middle of eagles nest.

 

[Rosebud]

The worst hunting story I have ever heard was told to me at the range I go to by the man that experienced it. I was shooting my .338 Edge down at 300 yards. After a few rounds (that thing rings the tin roof over the benches like crazy) I looked over and saw one of the guys that were down at the pistol range walking toward me so I opened the bolt and stood up. I recognized him and we shook hands. He sheepishly asked me if I could hold off firing until his buddy (in a wheelchair) could finish shooting his pistol. The percussion of my rifle caused him pain. A little curious I said of course and started scrounging brass after he walked away. I figure if a man is going to walk the 100 yards or so down to where I was and be polite I could wait. Besides that, his buddy was in a wheelchair and somehow my .338 Edge's muzzle blast was affecting him.

It sounded like his buddy was shooting a .22 and he didn't shoot for very long. the guy that walked down gave me a thumbs up when they were done but I held off shooting. I decided to wait until they left. As they drove toward the gate they swung in and I walked over. His buddy was sitting in the passenger seat. He was gray and it looked like he was hurting just from being alive. I'm not kidding, he looked like a terminal cancer patient. Then the driver says, this is my friend "insert name here". This was 10 or more years ago and I don't recall either's name and I haven't seen them since. The passenger couldn't raise his hand to shake hands and he apologized saying something like shooting wore him out. Then the driver told me I was looking at a real miracle. I didn't feel like I was looking at a miracle.

He told me that his passenger was checking feeders (somewhere around Wharton, TX) with his buddy around dusk. They both walked in together on the main sendero, with their rifles. They were hoping to see some hogs. The sendero split into two sendero's, one left, one right. They separated (100% not in my book of right things to do in this situation but I get it) so they could check the feeders in time to fill them before dark. The passenger started talking, with a lot of effort. He explained that his walk was shorter and he was back to where they split up before his hunting buddy but the light was fading fast. He said he got down on one knee and started glassing for hogs with his scope. He felt something tap him in the side, then he felt like he was being blown up like a ballon, then something pulled at his other side. I didn't get what he was telling me at first. He said then he fell over and the next thing he remembered was his buddy crying and telling him that he was sorry. His buddy spotted him from down at the feeder he was checking, thought he was a hog, and shot him with a 7mm Rem Mag. I was stunned.

7mm Rem Mag is my hunting caliber (gross overkill down here). I blurted out, how are you even here? He said he wouldn't be much longer. I tell you what man... I must've had too much water that day... my eyes leaked when that frail little shell of a man said that. He smiled and bragged on how many surgeries that Dr. Red Duke had done on him and how people don't know how he survived. He was most proud of being Dr. Red Duke's patient. Most of his intestines were gone. Yup, gut shot through the side with a 7mm Rem Mag. I want to say he used a 180gr bullet but truthfully I don't recall. I can't imagine what that man lived through.

I've told this story before, it may not read the same every time, but it always hits me the same. A good 10 years or more have gone by since that day. I never saw him or his friend again. It pays to be kind...

My God! That's horrible. I'd hate to have to live knowing I shot a friend like that. Sad!

 

[Rosebud]

Not a bad place to rest.

Elk hunting eagles nest wilderness about a decade ago, had hiked in 2 miles from I-70 and set up a spike camp, opening morning hiked in another mile or so to the top of a ridge.

Was sitting there, glassing, was very quiet , no birds squirrels nothing ,i got a little spooked decided to get up and move to a new spot on looked over and saw this.

Who knows how long its been out there, 50 years maybe, figured someones buried out there in the middle of eagles nest.

 

[C-130 Dude]

The worst hunting story I have ever heard was told to me at the range I go to by the man that experienced it. I was shooting my .338 Edge down at 300 yards. After a few rounds (that thing rings the tin roof over the benches like crazy) I looked over and saw one of the guys that were down at the pistol range walking toward me so I opened the bolt and stood up. I recognized him and we shook hands. He sheepishly asked me if I could hold off firing until his buddy (in a wheelchair) could finish shooting his pistol. The percussion of my rifle caused him pain. A little curious I said of course and started scrounging brass after he walked away. I figure if a man is going to walk the 100 yards or so down to where I was and be polite I could wait. Besides that, his buddy was in a wheelchair and somehow my .338 Edge's muzzle blast was affecting him.

It sounded like his buddy was shooting a .22 and he didn't shoot for very long. the guy that walked down gave me a thumbs up when they were done but I held off shooting. I decided to wait until they left. As they drove toward the gate they swung in and I walked over. His buddy was sitting in the passenger seat. He was gray and it looked like he was hurting just from being alive. I'm not kidding, he looked like a terminal cancer patient. Then the driver says, this is my friend "insert name here". This was 10 or more years ago and I don't recall either's name and I haven't seen them since. The passenger couldn't raise his hand to shake hands and he apologized saying something like shooting wore him out. Then the driver told me I was looking at a real miracle. I didn't feel like I was looking at a miracle.

He told me that his passenger was checking feeders (somewhere around Wharton, TX) with his buddy around dusk. They both walked in together on the main sendero, with their rifles. They were hoping to see some hogs. The sendero split into two sendero's, one left, one right. They separated (100% not in my book of right things to do in this situation but I get it) so they could check the feeders in time to fill them before dark. The passenger started talking, with a lot of effort. He explained that his walk was shorter and he was back to where they split up before his hunting buddy but the light was fading fast. He said he got down on one knee and started glassing for hogs with his scope. He felt something tap him in the side, then he felt like he was being blown up like a ballon, then something pulled at his other side. I didn't get what he was telling me at first. He said then he fell over and the next thing he remembered was his buddy crying and telling him that he was sorry. His buddy spotted him from down at the feeder he was checking, thought he was a hog, and shot him with a 7mm Rem Mag. I was stunned.

7mm Rem Mag is my hunting caliber (gross overkill down here). I blurted out, how are you even here? He said he wouldn't be much longer. I tell you what man... I must've had too much water that day... my eyes leaked when that frail little shell of a man said that. He smiled and bragged on how many surgeries that Dr. Red Duke had done on him and how people don't know how he survived. He was most proud of being Dr. Red Duke's patient. Most of his intestines were gone. Yup, gut shot through the side with a 7mm Rem Mag. I want to say he used a 180gr bullet but truthfully I don't recall. I can't imagine what that man lived through.

I've told this story before, it may not read the same every time, but it always hits me the same. A good 10 years or more have gone by since that day. I never saw him or his friend again. It pays to be kind...

I'm glad you found patience in your heart to let that guy shoot. Super! But I'm dismayed at him getting shot by his friend. My emotions on this are all over the place. From hang the dumb a** for shooting him, to accepting the apology. I'm sorry for being upset about your story. It's just so sad to hear about this sort of thing. It makes me sick. Hope he now has peace in his life now and is without pain.

 

[Mike6158]

I'm glad you found patience in your heart to let that guy shoot. Super! But I'm dismayed at him getting shot by his friend. My emotions on this are all over the place. From hang the dumb a** for shooting him, to accepting the apology. I'm sorry for being upset about your story. It's just so sad to hear about this sort of thing. It makes me sick. Hope he now has peace in his life now and is without pain.

I'm generally a patient person (my kids might disagree with that) so it was no big lift for me. I feel the same way you do about his buddy but if he's still alive he's living his own heck (just in case the other word was to turn into *s). However... how do you do that? How do you point a rifle downrange into an area where your friend could be? ESPECIALLY when you can't freakin see clearly. Good lord... that's a simple rule of hunting with others.

When the gentleman I was talking to said he wouldn't be around much longer I believe that he meant it. I suspect that he's at rest. I vaguely remember that the number of surgeries that he had was unreal. He still wanted to shoot though. Even the percussion of a .22 was too much for him. I don't mean recoil, just the puff of air from firing the round. Can you imagine what a sneeze or cough did to him?

I didn't even know the man and I grieve for him when I remember. Grieving is the least we can do for those that have gone on.

 

[marksman1941]

I'm generally a patient person (my kids might disagree with that) so it was no big lift for me. I feel the same way you do about his buddy but if he's still alive he's living his own heck (just in case the other word was to turn into *s). However... how do you do that? How do you point a rifle downrange into an area where your friend could be? ESPECIALLY when you can't freakin see clearly. Good lord... that's a simple rule of hunting with others.

When the gentleman I was talking to said he wouldn't be around much longer I believe that he meant it. I suspect that he's at rest. I vaguely remember that the number of surgeries that he had was unreal. He still wanted to shoot though. Even the percussion of a .22 was too much for him. I don't mean recoil, just the puff of air from firing the round. Can you imagine what a sneeze or cough did to him?

I didn't even know the man and I grieve for him when I remember. Grieving is the least we can do for those that have gone on.

I've always wondered that as well, how can a hunter shoot at a shape. When I was in grade school a friends dad was shot during elk season by other unknown hunters. Just shooting at movement.

If I don't have an absolute perfect angle and know exactly where I'm going to hit, I won't pull the trigger. It's such a foreign concept to think that someone could just… blindly fire at a shape

 

[Country Bumpkin]

I miss opening day of squirrel hunting in N. LA. A friend/coworker told me to hunt his family land on opening day one year. He told me that more than likely nobody would hunt it because it wasn't close to anything. To get there I had to open a locked gate, drive about 1 mile in, and park at a very old family cemetery. Like Civil War era old. That was an interesting place.

Not far from the wrought iron fence of the cemetery the land dropped off into a big hardwood and pine bottom. Some of the trees there were big enough that I couldn't reach more than 1/2 way around them. very old. They were there during the Civil War.

As I walked in I noticed that it was near impossible to be quiet when I walked through the dead ok and hickory leaves. It's easy to be quiet walking on pine needles, you just had to feel the sticks under the needles so they don't crack if you step on them. I found a big pine that was near some smaller pine trees, leaned up against it, and waited for the sound of pine cone seeds hitting the leaves. I'd been there maybe 30m when a deer came by. I heard it coming through the leaves before I saw it so I didn't feel too bad about sounding like a Walrus when I walked in. Not long after a voice very near me said, having a luck. I froze and looked around. Not 3' away there was an old man, wearing old tiger stripe camo, and holding a shotgun. I said no sir, just a deer. He said yup, I followed her in. That man did not make a sound coming or going. I watched him disappear into the woods. I stuck around for an hour or so then left with a few squirrels.

That's awesome! Those men are few and far between anymore.

 

[C-130 Dude]

I'm generally a patient person (my kids might disagree with that) so it was no big lift for me. I feel the same way you do about his buddy but if he's still alive he's living his own heck (just in case the other word was to turn into *s). However... how do you do that? How do you point a rifle downrange into an area where your friend could be? ESPECIALLY when you can't freakin see clearly. Good lord... that's a simple rule of hunting with others.

When the gentleman I was talking to said he wouldn't be around much longer I believe that he meant it. I suspect that he's at rest. I vaguely remember that the number of surgeries that he had was unreal. He still wanted to shoot though. Even the percussion of a .22 was too much for him. I don't mean recoil, just the puff of air from firing the round. Can you imagine what a sneeze or cough did to him?

I didn't even know the man and I grieve for him when I remember. Grieving is the least we can do for those that have gone on.

One of the cardinal rules of shooting: Be absolutely sure of your target AND what is beyond it. Nuff said.

 

[HockeyDad]

When I was about 29, the one time a cougar cornered me ............. oh, wait, that one turned out pretty good.

 

[C-130 Dude]

The dark woods can get a little spooky at night. When I was younger during hunting deer hunting season I would frequently camp by myself when my lazy hunting partners didn't show up. One night at a friend's farm (more like a wilderness tract) I set up my tent and built a small fire. A large pack of coyotes attacked critter literally a few yards away from my camp. It was a pitch black night and the sounds that came from attack were unnerving and viscous. Obviously there was a fight between the coyotes for their kill, and they chased and fought each other for pieces of the animal. This went on for what seemed like forever. I grabbed my flashlight and directed the beam into the woods around my camp site and saw shining eyes in all directions around me. I yelled out and they stopped fighting and yelping for a moment. Turned off my flashlight and sat next to the fire for hours. I could hear them for running through the woods and occasionally howling the rest of night. It was not a very restful night.

A good night to keep the fire high and stoked all night!

 

[ATH]

I bought my hunting property in 2019. It's 90min from my house so after the first year dealing with getting up at 3am to make the drive there, I decided to take my camper down there and dry camp for the season. I parked it near the road where one drives in, at the bottom of a hill that climbs as you go north all the way to my property line.

There is a 1 acre food plot of clover halfway up the hill and one evening I was hunting a ladder stand overlooking that plot, about 150yds from the camper. It was a dead calm evening, not a leaf rustling. Toward dark I could heard a deer get up from bedding more than 100 yards away as it moved in the dry leaves, working its way towards me. It stepped out about 30 yards away; a doe. I decided I was going to watch it and not shoot it and hope a buck would follow out. The doe began to feed, I could hear it chewing it was so dead still. I didn't dare move.

Suddenly there was a noise off in the direction of the camper; the doe's head shot up and she locked on that direction. The camper could not be seen from her position over the drop of the hill but I could see it. For about 5 minutes, we both looked off towards the camper but it was totally silent again.

At the second I dismissed the sound and began to relax, there was a crack like a gunshot. A massive dead tree broke loose and fell, and the deer took off. The tree slammed into the ground, missing my camper by 10 feet.

The next year I put a cabin in about twenty yards from where that camper had sat. I spent three weekends clearing every tree which had any possibility of being able to fall on the cabin's location.

 

[C-130 Dude]

Having a very aggressive alpha male wolf track me down. after an earlier encounter, in the dark while hiking off the mountain to camp. I have never heard such a terrifying howl, growl, scream as this before. It was literally like some hollyweird made up sound effects of a werewolf encounter. He tracked me step for step over 3 miles and caught me in some very dark thick section of timber and stood his ground. My buddy was a half mile away, on the radio, and freaking out. He was sure I was dinner. He actually stopped hunting that night. Next day I went out solo and tried to track the ba$turd down. That is when I discovered how deliberant this wolf was. I didn't kill him but I got 3 of the pack.

We humans think we are in charge and can prevail in the woods. No all the time can we be lucky.

 

[C-130 Dude]

3 times jump to mind for me. First was when I was 16 or 17. Me and a buddy were goofing off and walking the river at a deer lease our dads were on. Started getting dark and we decided to head back to the truck and go to camp. Made it about half way to the truck and there were mountain lion tracks between the sets we had put down. We were a bit on edge the rest of the way to the truck.

2018 on an elk hunt on the south fork coming out of Yellowstone. We were breaking down an elk when a 7.5 foot tall grizzly boar decided he wanted it more than we did. He took a mag from my .40 starting at 20 yards and a 300WSM to the head to finish off. I carry a 10mm in grizzly country now.

2021 at my deer lease on north Texas. I had a group of does and yearlings that showed up like clockwork. That day they didn't. Had a few other deer straggle through but acting nervous as could be. About an hour before dark I hear some deer running through the brush. Once they cleared it, they took a hard right and we're still hauling a** and that's when the mountain lion cleared the brush hot on their heels. I was alone without a pistol, just a bolt gun. It was well before dark when I walked out that evening and I take a pistol every time now. No one believed me until another guy saw it about a week later, he wasn't able to get a shot off either.

My dad taught me to ALWAYS carry a sidearm when hunting. If your rifle jams, there are critters out there that would love to have you for dinner.

 

[C-130 Dude]

Coyotes sound terrible. I can't imagine sitting right next to them during that fight!

When I was 17 I shot a cow elk with a muzzleloader and lost her. Long story, combo of inexperience and poor conditions. We found her 3 days later, rotten and eaten by coyotes. I'd made a clean shot on her but we did a poor tracking job. Anyways, we stood there looking at her for a minute, then started to walk past her and coyote howled about 15 yards in front of me. Then behind. Then the whole group, 10-12, started howling and yipping in a full circle around my dad and I. Cool now, but scared the crap out of me in the moment. My dad looked at me and said "let's go get 'em!" I said "dad we have muzzys. One shot each. There's 12 dogs". Then he mimed holding his rifle like a club and waggled his eyebrows at me, and it was so goofy that it broke the fear the coyotes had on me. We just walked on out of the circle, and they kept their song up for a couple more minutes before they went back to feeding.

"And Ruth steps up to the plate, [wack], it's a long one. Going, going gone!"