Want to hear some of your hunting stories.
- Thread starter Andrew93
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oldbillthundercheif
Moderator
My father dropped a pheasant with a right hook one time. It flushed further down the line and flew right at him so he swung, hit it, and the bird was done for. He was about 85 years old at the time but he really put the mustard on that bird, it was down for the count, no neck-wringing needed.
I know I will never beat that one. I've had a few good shots and lively days of hunting, but no bare-knuckle birds so far.
I know I will never beat that one. I've had a few good shots and lively days of hunting, but no bare-knuckle birds so far.
Fat White Boy
New member
I was hunting quail in Central California. I had to take a leak so I rested my Remington 1100, butt on the ground, barrel securely in the fork of a small tree.. I was doing my thing when a friend flushed a bird about 50 yards to my left. I didn't have time to put things away but I did have time to grab my shotgun and drop the quail. One bird with my pants around my ankles. True Story!
davlandrum
New member
I was bow hunting elk on the Oregon coast, just still hunting down an abandoned logging road. There was a covey of quail on the up hill side, trapped against the bank. Every time I took a step, one quail would flush and then coast down to the far end of the line from me. It was just making me nuts, as I am trying to ghost down the road. Finally, after about 6 quail had played this game, I saw a big shadow glide across the road. A huge red-tail hawk swooped up in a tree over looking this little situation.
I took one more step and the next quail flushed. The hawk hit him so hard there was an explosion of feathers. I was just laughing my a** off. I had basically been the driver for the hawks hunt.
That pretty much freaked the rest of the birds out and the next step I took launched the rest of the covey and they glided down hill off the road.
Good stuff, nature at its best.
I took one more step and the next quail flushed. The hawk hit him so hard there was an explosion of feathers. I was just laughing my a** off. I had basically been the driver for the hawks hunt.
That pretty much freaked the rest of the birds out and the next step I took launched the rest of the covey and they glided down hill off the road.
Good stuff, nature at its best.
Raptors
1) Was on my deer stand in Alabama, located just above an old moonshine still, waiting for a deer to show. All of a sudden, I got hit in the head and hit hard enough to knock my hat off and give me a cut on my head. After regainig my witts, looked up in the tree above and in front of me and there was a very large owl, looking me over. Finally flew off. Guess he must have been standing his watch, over the still.
2) While hunting grey squirrels, shot one and as it was thrashing on the ground, A Red-Tail hawk flew down and just flew off with it. Well, that's one I didn't have to clean.
1) Was on my deer stand in Alabama, located just above an old moonshine still, waiting for a deer to show. All of a sudden, I got hit in the head and hit hard enough to knock my hat off and give me a cut on my head. After regainig my witts, looked up in the tree above and in front of me and there was a very large owl, looking me over. Finally flew off. Guess he must have been standing his watch, over the still.
2) While hunting grey squirrels, shot one and as it was thrashing on the ground, A Red-Tail hawk flew down and just flew off with it. Well, that's one I didn't have to clean.
One time, I was hunting deer on a friend's property in a stand. It was about noon, and I had not seen anything move at all over the last 3 hours. In fact, it had become earily quiet -- even the birds had stopped singing and chirping, and not a single tree-rat was around.
I was bored, so I climbed out of the stand and followed a trail into the timber to try some slow stalk hunting. Even though I was on a trial, the timber was very thick, and the trees and brush blotted out most of the mid-day sun. I realized how dark and still things were as I proceeded down the trail.
As I rounded a curve, I suddenly heard a deep, growling and hissing sound from under a stump at the side of the trial. Deep within the darkness of the stump, I saw two red eyes peering out, and the growling got louder as I realized that whatever was under that stump had seen me.
In an instant, a blur of fur shot out from the stump and charged right at me. The blur stopped about 10 feet away from me, and it was only then that I realized how much trouble I was in. Standing before me was a very large racoon, but this was no ordinary racoon. It was frothing at the mouth in-between growls, and it's red eyes were slits of pure hate. It stood there for a second and kept growling at me, and then it charged again.
I only had an instant to react! I raised my rifle, found the head of the charging, rabid raccoon in my scope, and fired. The .308 Winchester thumped on impact; I'd hit the racoon right in the head, and the round flipped the thing about 4 feet backward. "Holy Cow!" I thought to myself, as I stood there in shock and looked at the bloodied raccoon.
But the coon wasn't finished yet. It rolled over onto it's right side, got onto it's feet, and slowly turned to face me, growling in rage; the plain white froth that had been dripping from it's mouth was now a mix of rabid spittle and blood. A large hole was pouring blood from the coon's jaw. With each growl, the coon was becoming more and more enraged, and spitting a disgusting mix of froth and blood from its mouth. Once again, the coon uttered a ferocious growl and charged again.
At this point, I realized that I hadn't racked the bolt and loaded another round in the rifle. I knew there was not time to rack that bolt before the rabid animal would leap all over me. I raised the butt-end of the rifle over my shoulder; the coon covered that last 10 feet in a flash, and it attempted to jump up onto my chest, with teeth bared and claws outstretched.
I brought the butt of the rifle down on the leaping coon as hard as I could. My aim was pure luck. The butt of the rifle make contact squarely with the coon's head, and I smashed that coon back at least 3 feet away from me. The coon was stunned, but still growling. As it started to stand up, I tried to rack my bolt, but somehow the round jammed, and I knew that I'd have to finish the killer coon without the aid of a firearm.
As the coon began staggering toward me, I dropped the rifle, and drew my 8" buck knife from its scabbard. This time, I charged the racoon, with the knife blade glinting earily in the shadows of the timber. When I reached the coon at the end of my charge, I plunged the knife as deeply as I could into the top of the coon's body, and narrowly avoided being bitten as I stepped back. I'd sunk that knife all the way through the top of the coon's body, but it still wasn't done fighting. It staggered toward me again, and I knew that I had to end this fight the best that I could. So I punted the rabid racoon as hard as I could. It was a kick that Jason Elam would have been proud of. The coon was launched high into the air, and finally fell down about 30 yards away from me. The coon looked in my direction, and it screamed at me in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The darn thing still wasn't done! It slowly started staggering back toward my location on the path; I could see the handle of my knife sticking out of the racoon's back.
At this point, I'd had enough; I picked up my rifle, and I turned around and ran back to the stand in the field where the ATV was parked. As I ran out of the timber and hit the cornfield, I heard the coon scream a final, enraged challenge. I fired up the ATV and got the heck out of there!
I was bored, so I climbed out of the stand and followed a trail into the timber to try some slow stalk hunting. Even though I was on a trial, the timber was very thick, and the trees and brush blotted out most of the mid-day sun. I realized how dark and still things were as I proceeded down the trail.
As I rounded a curve, I suddenly heard a deep, growling and hissing sound from under a stump at the side of the trial. Deep within the darkness of the stump, I saw two red eyes peering out, and the growling got louder as I realized that whatever was under that stump had seen me.
In an instant, a blur of fur shot out from the stump and charged right at me. The blur stopped about 10 feet away from me, and it was only then that I realized how much trouble I was in. Standing before me was a very large racoon, but this was no ordinary racoon. It was frothing at the mouth in-between growls, and it's red eyes were slits of pure hate. It stood there for a second and kept growling at me, and then it charged again.
I only had an instant to react! I raised my rifle, found the head of the charging, rabid raccoon in my scope, and fired. The .308 Winchester thumped on impact; I'd hit the racoon right in the head, and the round flipped the thing about 4 feet backward. "Holy Cow!" I thought to myself, as I stood there in shock and looked at the bloodied raccoon.
But the coon wasn't finished yet. It rolled over onto it's right side, got onto it's feet, and slowly turned to face me, growling in rage; the plain white froth that had been dripping from it's mouth was now a mix of rabid spittle and blood. A large hole was pouring blood from the coon's jaw. With each growl, the coon was becoming more and more enraged, and spitting a disgusting mix of froth and blood from its mouth. Once again, the coon uttered a ferocious growl and charged again.
At this point, I realized that I hadn't racked the bolt and loaded another round in the rifle. I knew there was not time to rack that bolt before the rabid animal would leap all over me. I raised the butt-end of the rifle over my shoulder; the coon covered that last 10 feet in a flash, and it attempted to jump up onto my chest, with teeth bared and claws outstretched.
I brought the butt of the rifle down on the leaping coon as hard as I could. My aim was pure luck. The butt of the rifle make contact squarely with the coon's head, and I smashed that coon back at least 3 feet away from me. The coon was stunned, but still growling. As it started to stand up, I tried to rack my bolt, but somehow the round jammed, and I knew that I'd have to finish the killer coon without the aid of a firearm.
As the coon began staggering toward me, I dropped the rifle, and drew my 8" buck knife from its scabbard. This time, I charged the racoon, with the knife blade glinting earily in the shadows of the timber. When I reached the coon at the end of my charge, I plunged the knife as deeply as I could into the top of the coon's body, and narrowly avoided being bitten as I stepped back. I'd sunk that knife all the way through the top of the coon's body, but it still wasn't done fighting. It staggered toward me again, and I knew that I had to end this fight the best that I could. So I punted the rabid racoon as hard as I could. It was a kick that Jason Elam would have been proud of. The coon was launched high into the air, and finally fell down about 30 yards away from me. The coon looked in my direction, and it screamed at me in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The darn thing still wasn't done! It slowly started staggering back toward my location on the path; I could see the handle of my knife sticking out of the racoon's back.
At this point, I'd had enough; I picked up my rifle, and I turned around and ran back to the stand in the field where the ATV was parked. As I ran out of the timber and hit the cornfield, I heard the coon scream a final, enraged challenge. I fired up the ATV and got the heck out of there!
davlandrum
New member
ROTFLMAO!!
Fremmer - did you ever recover the knife, or was that the sacrifice to the god of rabid raccoons??
Fremmer - did you ever recover the knife, or was that the sacrifice to the god of rabid raccoons??
Dirty_Harry
New member
What it sounds like to me is that the .308 is a little light for coons. I will be bringing the .450 on the next coon hunt, or at least my M1A.
I will be bringing the .450 on the next coon hunt, or at least my M1A.i'll prolly get a flaming but...
in n.c. i asked (and was given permission) to go shoot rats near a guys house.
in a shed, at dusk, i see small movement.
i fired, and all hell broke loose.
i had blasted the guys pet turkey!
well, they were pretty good sports, they de-feathered and cleaned and cooked it.
i couldn't eat it though.
they called me turkey killer the rest of my stay
in n.c. i asked (and was given permission) to go shoot rats near a guys house.
in a shed, at dusk, i see small movement.
i fired, and all hell broke loose.
i had blasted the guys pet turkey!
well, they were pretty good sports, they de-feathered and cleaned and cooked it.
i couldn't eat it though.
they called me turkey killer the rest of my stay
bushidomosquito
New member
I was out shooting crows off a dead something with a .22 while my friend was patterning his shotgun and playing with choke tubes. We kept hearing shots way off in the distance and were speculating as to what type of gun we were hearing. Then after a long string of distant shots, something hit the the back of my calf that felt just like a paintball. I looked down and saw a .30 cal rifle bullet laying there with no damage except for the rifling marks. Even the lead tip was undamaged. The gun it came from was definitly semi-auto so I'm thinking .308. I can't imagine how far a .308 would have to travel to hit like a paintball but we got the hell out of there before that guy decided to shoot something faster. That was about 14 years ago and I still have that bullet today.
rem870hunter
New member
it was a cold december morning back in 2002. had my shotgun permit for either sex deer. got in my stand late. about 8:30 am by 8:50 i heard a snap behind me, i froze for a few seconds and looked left and right. did'nt see anything else. i have had 2 or 3 come in at once from different angles. and 1 will spook the others if i move to much and they see me. so i sat waiting, i heard another snap behind me. i leaned around to the right and out the corner of my eye i saw a deer. it was maybe 30 yards out heading towards me. i sat and listened kept looking out the corner of my eye to the left. finally it stepped out where i did'nt have to move much. it was maybe 25 yards away by now. i put the shotgun up to my shoulder looked through the scope and put the crosshairs right behind its right front leg about halfway up its body. clicked off the safety and squeezed the trigger. POW i put a 12 gauge slugger slug right through its ribcage and out it neckbase on the left side. my first deer, i was so excited i almost fell out of the stand. my dad was about 80 yards away and yelled over was that you shooting. i yelled back yup. and i got it too. he got out of his stand before i got out of mine. he ran over to see what i got. saw it and said WTF IS THIS LITTLE THING . i gutted it and checked it in at the game station. 18# doe i am sad it was only 18# but it was still a deer my first deer at that. me and the family ate some of it withine a few weeks after it was butchered. tasted funny i am not too sure why. was kept cold and had ice in and on it after checking it in at the station. no one got sick though. that was a good thing.
every deer i have seen after that look like a moose. that one did too from the stand that morning.
i went deer hunting on saturday didn't see any deer. but was 20 feet away from the car was loaded for deer and had 2 squirrels run right at me. they got within 30 yards. and i didn't have any fine shot loaded.
it figures now if i was loaded for small game those squirrels would have been deer. right?? murphys law.
every deer i have seen after that look like a moose. that one did too from the stand that morning.
i went deer hunting on saturday didn't see any deer. but was 20 feet away from the car was loaded for deer and had 2 squirrels run right at me. they got within 30 yards. and i didn't have any fine shot loaded.
it figures now if i was loaded for small game those squirrels would have been deer. right?? murphys law.18# doe.............I think he's telling the truth.
About a dozen years ago we hunted Sapalo Island off the southeast Georgia coast. Lots of deer, but small. At the game station I saw a number of deer that went well under 30 pounds gutted, a few under 20 and one that went 12 pounds. And no the 12 pound one did not have a bunch of spots on it.
I'm sure the state of Ga. has records someplace of the hunts as they were manning the game station and taking jaw bones.
About a dozen years ago we hunted Sapalo Island off the southeast Georgia coast. Lots of deer, but small. At the game station I saw a number of deer that went well under 30 pounds gutted, a few under 20 and one that went 12 pounds. And no the 12 pound one did not have a bunch of spots on it.
I'm sure the state of Ga. has records someplace of the hunts as they were manning the game station and taking jaw bones.
wun_8_seven
New member
i caught a 30lb hog in a trout net .now that was a rodeo.
once i was bow hunting on the edge of a bean field, sittin in my tree stand when i hear the low rumble of an airplane engine turn to look just in time to see the crop duster dump a load of some kind of yellow powder on top of me. could barely breath and my skin burned like fire. sorta fell down out of the tree and ran about 80 yards and jumped in the north canadian river.
once i was bow hunting on the edge of a bean field, sittin in my tree stand when i hear the low rumble of an airplane engine turn to look just in time to see the crop duster dump a load of some kind of yellow powder on top of me. could barely breath and my skin burned like fire. sorta fell down out of the tree and ran about 80 yards and jumped in the north canadian river.
rem870hunter
New member
18# doe means 18 pound doe (female). it did not have spots. most likely a 1 year old. i am itching to get another deer. but my chance will come again.
Didn't happen to me but I saw it happen.
My Uncle and I were dove hunting next to each other a few yards apart. A flight of birds came in heading straight for him. I watched as he raised his 20ga Parker, and dropped one, then the second one. As the second one fell, he reached out and caught it in his hand, put it down beside his stool, and walked out and picked up the first one with an 'I meant to do that" look on his face.
One that happened to me. Deer hunting with dogs one morning late in the season. We didn't have enough people to stand the marsh properly so I had gone over in the marsh to "cut the drive in half." The dogs jumped, ran around a bit, and I saw a deer (turned out to be a button buck) coming toward me. He got down and crawled under a bunch of brush and came out the other side and was looking straight down the barrel of my Mossberg. He was about 20 yards away, and I saw his eyes open up like a cartoon character. I suspect the last thing he ever saw was the muzzle flash.
My Uncle and I were dove hunting next to each other a few yards apart. A flight of birds came in heading straight for him. I watched as he raised his 20ga Parker, and dropped one, then the second one. As the second one fell, he reached out and caught it in his hand, put it down beside his stool, and walked out and picked up the first one with an 'I meant to do that" look on his face.
One that happened to me. Deer hunting with dogs one morning late in the season. We didn't have enough people to stand the marsh properly so I had gone over in the marsh to "cut the drive in half." The dogs jumped, ran around a bit, and I saw a deer (turned out to be a button buck) coming toward me. He got down and crawled under a bunch of brush and came out the other side and was looking straight down the barrel of my Mossberg. He was about 20 yards away, and I saw his eyes open up like a cartoon character. I suspect the last thing he ever saw was the muzzle flash.