most memorable hunt?

T

troy_mclure

New member
whats your most memorable hunt? great or disaster?

my most memorable was the most miserable.

me, my dad, and grandfather hiked all night(4-5 hrs) thru this waist(chest on my 12 yr old self) deep marsh, towing decoys, to get to this small island that the geese liked to land around just after dawn.

we arrived around a hour before dawn, and it started to icy rain, and the temp plummeted just as we got set up.

we sat there for a good 4 hours after sunrise till we figured the geese weren't comming.

during this time the water got a thin layer of ice on it. the sharp cutting stuff.

by the time we got back to the truck we were so cold, and miserable, and had cuts all over from falling down.


we talked about that hunt till the day my grandpa died(10yrs later) and me and my dad still talk about it(18yrs later).

its a great memory of a miserable hunt.
 
I don't guess any one hunt stands out. Bunches of great memories of hunting trips, but they've mostly involved the campfire bull sessions. Sure, I've had fun set-tos with Bambi, but that was just one part of the deal...
 
Funny you posted about a miserable hunt, as a lot of my most memorable involved misery of one kind or another.

Sitting in a tree stand in Kentucky bowhunting, inadequate clothing (I was there for some Army training), in the freezing rain. Ice building up everywhere, including the bowsting. 8 hours of freezing h*ll and did not see one stinking deer......
 
My most memerable would be my first...several decades ago... when i was so nervous that I missed a spike buck three times with a single shot 12 guage,,and the deer still stayed in the same place the four times that I shot to get it.
 
hunting with my son

Hi,
To me it'll be my most recent hunt. my 11 YO son went along, walked and stalked right by my side.
A very special time for both of us.

Brgds,
Danny
 
I've had a few memorable hunts, but my first pig stands out the most. I shot her at about 20 yds, 1 oz Winchester slug jellied her vitlas but she didn't know she was supposed to die. She took off like scalded lightning. I finally caught up to her about 200 yds later and came face to face with her around a palmetto. She was missing most of her front left leg but still had the gumption to try me. She started forward and I nailed her again through the neck. A buddy of mine showed up and helped drag her out. We hoisted her over a log and her butt hit and she shot forward and bit him on the leg, drew blood! She was a feisty one!
 
My first deer hunt was the most memorable of all. First day was a bust and second morning was also. So its just after lunch and everyone was sitting around the camp. I guess the adults wanted a little peace and quiet because they sent me out to hunt (12 years old then). Said it was the best time of the day because the "big bucks" were laying down and would be easier to approach.

I took the borrowed 30-30 and headed out of camp. I dont think that I could have gone more than a quarter mile or so and was going through a small thicket of brush and a buck jumped up. He jumped to my left and on the second bound, I fired. He tumbled over and kicked for a little but never got up.

I was so excited that I ran back to camp to ask for help to bring him in. Of course they thought I was telling tales at first, but dad finally gave in and we went out to bring it in. Ended up taking a nice 3pt (3 on each side) mule deer. I have been hooked on deer hunting ever since.
 
Antelope trip out west with my Dad, my buddy and his father. Anyway, Dad hadn't hunted in 20 years or so and I finally got him to go out west with us.

So Dad and I are laying in a ditch watching some antelope about 175 yards away. Several does and a nice buck or two. Nothing I want (I'd been on a couple of other antelope trips), but nice bucks for Dad. He's leary of shooting that distance and I keep trying to get him to take the shot when the buck he was focused on disappears behind a small hill. About the same time the smaller buck disappears, a very nice buck crests the hill facing us.

Knowing Dad wouldn't shoot, I had my rifle up but didn't pull the trigger until Dad said "Take him!" No sooner than he said that, the rifle cracked. I knew my shot was good, but the buck just stood there. I worked the action and lined up a second shot on him and I remember Dad saying "Hit him again!"

I launched the second shot just as the antelope fell and missed him but no matter, he was dead on his feet.

The antelope was about 14" with 3" cutters. Not a record book, but for public land, I'm damn proud of him. The fact that Dad was next to me when I shot him, that I'll never forget.
 
First time ever bow hunting.

I got good with a hand me down bow my dad gave me and got my uncle to take me during bow season. I was 14. Didnt see nothin on teh mornin hunt so I sat me a chair in the corner of a cotton feild where a good trail was. I stepped it off to thirty yards into the cotton and thats where I sat.

I seen antlers comin over the cotton to my left and when I seen his rack I swear he was a 180 incher. I stood up slow as posible and drawed back then grunted with my mouth to stop him and he stoped and looked in the woods. When he stoped I pulled the trigger. Couldnt see where the arrow hit but I seen it stickin out of the ground. I waited bout 2 minutes maybe and went and got my arrow, it was blood on it and im PUMPED!!!

Went and got my buddy that went with us and gave him about thirty minutes then went and strted trackin. All we could find was lil bitty specs of blood here and there then it turned into a pudle here and there. We had to leave our bows close to the feild cause it got thick and we were on our hands and knees through thick stuff.

bout 500-600 yards from the feild my buddy spoted him aginst a tree. I ran over there and to my surprise he was starin me in the eyes. My buddy happend to have a fixed blade knife about 6 inches long so I got his knife and cominced to cut his throat. When I grabed him by the antlers he shook his head and throwed me off of him and he took off hoblin. He feel in a fallen down tree and got his antlers hung up. This was my chance I stabed him in the neck nine times befor he died.

It was a two year old eight pooint that scored 110 adn didnt weight but 130 on hoof, man that woulda been a nice one in three or four more years.
 
Duck hunting in flooded green timber. A dozen or so mallards bite on the calling and circle our clearing 3 times then turn into the wind which was at my back and come straight down towards me. I picked out a drake in the upper middle of the flight and fire once. Apparently another was coming in on his tail and I hit both.

They were dead before hitting the water. One shot - two ducks. The best part though was that the angle of their descent landed them right in my blind. I only had to reach out and grab both dead mallards, put them on the strap and hang em on my the tree where my chair was. The other guys in blinds around the clearing were in shock and still talk about it.
 
.... Spent 9 days sleeping in a wet sleeping bag,
-with wet clothes (the 'gear tent' got wet too...),
-eating randomly assembled meals,
-having to drag fallen trees back to camp with my Subaru station wagon (the truck and ATV owners always seemed to have "something" to do when it was firewood gathering time),
-getting pestered by flying squirrels,
-then we ran out of food, and didn't eat unless we gather/harvested/shot it....

And I came home without filling my tag. (Mule Deer)

It was a great hunt.



My worst hunt was an Elk hunt. Rain. Freezing Temperatures. Rain. Freezing Rain. Wind. More Wind. We got maybe half a day's worth of hunting in, in a 5 day period. I'm all about hunting in inclement conditions, but that hunt was brutal. We went home early, because we didn't want to suffer through another wet and freezing night (even though we knew the rest of the hunt would be clear skies and warm weather).... It was that bad. Bad, bad, bad trip. It was so bad, one of my brothers drove 40 miles for a pair of boots, and gladly paid the ridiculous price they wanted... just so he could wear one somewhat dry pair while the other was by the fire.
 
It was so bad, one of my brothers drove 40 miles for a pair of boots, and gladly paid the ridiculous price they wanted... just so he could wear one somewhat dry pair while the other was by the fire
Click to expand...

It was 40 miles each way............and those boots and some new, dry, socks were worth every penny they gouged me for, and the gas money to get there and back...............still, the worst day hunting beats any day at work.
 
That's a tough one....

I have had so many great ones .... but probably the second day of Deer Season about 4 years ago, when Eldest (daughter) was 10 or so..... It was the first year she was alowed to carry her .22 along, in case a coyote wandered through....

We walked to "The Barcalounger" (a conviently sloped box elder trunk) across a frosted alfalfa field under a starry sky. Stars so bright that you could see to walk by them. The only sound was the crunch of our feet in the frozen field and a grain dryer at Smith's.... got to our spot and settled in . As the sun came up, turkeys awoke in the trees across the field- tree calls, a gobble and then you could hear them fly down, even though they were 1/4 mile away........ 15 minutes later, distant gunshots.... one (-whispered-"Deer?"), two ("Maybe a deer."), three ("Probably not.....") 4-5 ("Now he's just wasting ammo.") ("Daddy, I hear something"- points east, uphill, in the direction of the shots). I turn and bring the rifle up to port arms..... and a doe comes barrelling over the hill, with the impending sunrise behind her...... and screeches to a halt 15 yards from us, on the other side of a ditch, some brush and the Barcalounger. Eldest is franticly, silently pointing ..... and over the hill comes the doe's Boyfriend...... walks stiff legged down the hill and stops, 50 yards out, head low, upper lip curled back.... as the crosshair settles on the front of his chest..... breathe in, half out ("Plug your ears, dear... ") WHAM! "DADDY! YOU MISSED! "Snick snack"-reload The doe took off south toward the turkeys, and Eldest's attention followed ....the buck surged forward, until his knees buckled and he slid into the ditch rack first, a little to our left, not fifteen feet away...... "Daddy, she's getting away! SHOOT!" "I didn't miss......HE'S not going anywhere." "HE?"
"Right over there. Careful, he might not be dead-dead. Put your muzzle in his eye: if he blinks, pull the trigger....."

.......like yesterday.......
 
Most memorable?, I guess they are all memorable, thats why I keep on hunting.
Early memories include hunting rabbits with an air rifle at 12 years of age. I was allowed to take the old land rover & spotlight rabbits at our hay shed with friends at 4 in the morning.
At 14 I graduated to a 22 but remember that darn brother of mine only ever letting me take 2 bullets with me - said it would teach me to shoot straight.
Now Im in my mid fortys a lot of memorable hunts have happened since then including being dropped of by cessna on the gravel banks of a remote river in South Island New Zealand chasing Red Deer , being flown into a million acre property in far north Australia pig shooting for a week, a 9 day African plains game hunt, camping out hunting Sambar deer in the Victorian Alps in Australia(every year for the past 15 years), hunting rabbits on my brother in laws sheep station(over 90 rabbits shot in a weekend), the monthly trips to my mates 2,000 acre cattle property hunting pigs, goats, deer, foxes,& roos, to name a few.
These and more are all memorable hunts, & some have been unsuccessful, some we got lost, some we got bogged, some we broke down, a few involved trips to hospital to fix broken bones, some we hunted in snow & some I hunted in 120 degrees, but all were memorable.
 
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This hunt for red stag was my most memorable hunt within past 12 months.

Jack
 
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