Scariest experiences in the woods?

Thread came up on another site I visit.. I'm sure you guys have had some harrowing experiences. Here are a couple of mine:

Couple experiences come to mind.. I was fishing with a friend of mine who is a well-known catfish guide. We were planning to pull an all-nighter and, though he lives close to a bigger city, we launched the boat from a pretty remote landing. As we were unloading, buddy pulls a ball bat out of the truck and throws it on the deck of the boat. I knew he never killed a fish over a ten pounds so I had to ask. "Oh, there's been a couple guys mugged at this landing so I carry that when I'm going to get the truck in the dark." Okay...

We caught a couple fish in the mid-20s and ended up fishing until about three. It looked like some weather was moving in so we decided to call it a night. When we get to the landing I said, "Throw me your keys and I'll back the truck in." So he did and said, "Here, take the bat." Okay...


I had a little AA flashlight that you about had to light a match to see if it was on. I'm not particularly easily spooked, but it was about 100 yards from the landing to the parking lot and kind of a narrow little road I had to walk down. There was timber on both sides, and it was blacker than the inside of a cow. I'll admit I was looking around me pretty hard and maybe gripping the bat harder than necessary. About half-way, there's a little dip in the road where a culvert ran under and just as I got there - a dad-blamed Great Blue Heron went flapping out, squawking at the top of his lungs - right under my freaking feet.. Good thing I peed right after I got out of the boat. :cower:


Other time I was in Texas hog hunting with my longbow. Guys we were hunting with insisted everyone carry a handgun because a couple people had been chased and one guy hooked. I borrowed a .45 and carried it the first couple times to the stand. It wasn't a real comfortable gun to carry so after the first couple times out I just stuck in under my pillow and "forgot" it. They mentioned a time or two but I just kind of sluffed it off. So, one night they drop me in a stand, at the edge of a swamp, and told me, "This is where we've had trouble with some "bad" hogs, so stay in the stand until we pull up tonight." I was only about 50-60 yards off the road so I didn't figure I could get in much trouble.

Well, dark comes, and comes some more, and some more and pretty soon the moon starts to come up. Finally, close to an hour later, I see headlights so I start down out of the stand. I had a little headlamp but with the moon I really didn't need it and I could about hit the truck with a rock so I started out.

All of a sudden there was thrashing all about my feet and something crashed into my legs. My vertical leap would have done Michael Jordan proud (if it would have been a couple feet higher). When I came down I landed right on something the size of a Volkswagen and as I took a couple running steps I crashed into another one. All this probably took an hour (or three seconds) and the whole time I'm trying to get my headlight turned on.

Finally, with both feet again on the ground and holding my longbow like a club - the light, mercifully, came on. There at my feet, running in circles and looking fully as confused as I was, were two armadillos.

I wasn't going to tell anyone. But, back at camp and after a couple drinks I decided it was too good not to share. After, the telling - and when everyone had gotten back up off the floor.. someone said, "I'll bet you wish you'd have had that pistol then." I said, "Boys, if I'da had that pistol - I'd shot both my feet off." :pistols ;)

Great stories, Hide. ;)

Scariest was back in the very early 80's. My deer hunting partner talked me into going bear hunting up in Northern Ontario, Canada. We were in a remote camp a bazillion miles from ANY civilization, so the whole experience was new to me. I set up a ground blind and bait pile about 3 miles from camp. I had to have my buddy drop me off by boat, then hike in about 200-300 yards. This particular evening was a bit spooky to begin with. It was darker than usual due to overcast skies and a drizzling rain. The only good thing was, the woods were eerily quiet due to the wetness. My buddy dropped me off and I stood on the shoreline until I could no longer hear the boat motor as he returned to camp, then I started tip-toeing into the bush.

When I got about 20 yards from my stand, I could hear it. There was a bear ripping my bait pile apart (I had it covered with heavy logs, etc.). It sounded like he was throwing those logs around like tinker toys. Did I mention this was my FIRST ever bear hunt? I froze and my heart was about to pound it's way right out of my chest. The bush was so thick, it made the woods even darker and I about strained my eyeball muscles trying to see the source of the noise. I couldn't see a dang thing, so I started easing forward ... inches at a time ... the whole time directing 100% of my attention in the direction of that bear. Oh ... did I mention this was my first ever bear hunt? ;)

I stood listening for a couple minutes ... couldn't see a thing ... but that bear sounded BIG & MEAN!! I decided to ease forward a few more steps ... slowly ... slowly ... and again stopped. I again strained to see if I could catch a glimpse of this man-eater and at that instant ... a FUCKING GROUSE EXPLODED OUT OF THE WOODS!! It had been huddled not two frigging feet from where I stood! Like you, I'd pee'd at the shoreline just before heading in or I'd have had an embarrassing tale to tell back at camp. After I quit tap dancing and screaming like a little girl, I stood in the bush and heard nothing but silence. I'd heard a big "WOOF" just as I started hollering and high-stepping, so I knew ol' bruin was half way to Quebec by then.

I eased back out of the woods and when my pulse dropped back to about double-normal, I fired 3 quick shots (our signal to come help and/or be picked up). I went back in the next morning to re-set my bait and was on stand a couple hours earlier the next evening. The dumbass actually came back in and I had my first bear. A nice 250-275 pounder. I took many more in the following years ... but that had to be my most ... ummm ... exciting! ;)

I've told this story before....coon hunting with two buddies, one of which had the gout, so he rode my 4 wheeler....dogs treed, so my other buddy goes to the dogs, while I circle to the rear of the dogs....he starts screaming about some big black beasts, attacking the dogs....he hauls azz, in the direction of my gout buddy on the 4 wheeler, who owns the dogs.

The big black beasts beat the living sheeit outta the dogs, so they start hauling azz towards my gout buddy on the 4 wheeler, too....the bloodied dogs, with their tails tucked between their legs, break outta the woods, and all four of them leap in my gout buddy's lap, while he's sitting on the 4 wheeler.

About that time, I break outta the wood-line, just in time to see all four dogs, and my other buddy and my gout buddy, all on top of the 4 wheeler, trying to get it cranked, to get the h3ll outta there.

At that instant, the big black beasts broke outta the tree line, and again, started attacking the dogs, who had by then, climbed on top of both my buddies, scared for their lives....the dogs finally leaped off the 4 wheeler, and hauled azz in four different directions, with the big black beasts right behind them....my gout buddy evidently wasn't as gouty as he thought he was....he leaped off the 4 wheeler, too, and ran plum nearly a quarter mile down a muddy logging road....he looked like he was trying to outrun the devil.

Long story short....the big black beasts were five big adult emus that I had turned loose in the woods behind my house....they had been given to me by an older couple, who got outta the emu-raising business....they wanted me to just give them a home in the woods to forage for themselves....I hadn't even seen them in many months, and had forgotten all about them being back there in the woods. ;)

Now, that's funny. Thanks for the chuckle.

lol.. great stories all... ;)

I've never told ya'll the story about the black panther, the Baptist preacher, and me....there's really no need, because ya'll wouldn't believe me, anyway. ;)

A scary story to share....
Multiple times but
Not enough to expect it every time.
While sneaking in the predawn to a tree stand I had a pheasant jump up out
Of a fence row. I basically got ended up with buckled knees and short of breath
That dang pheasant did it to me 2-5 times that fall
Another story....
Had a flock of turkeys slowly working their way to me. As I began to draw my bow on one bird, a coyote ran right through the flock. The birds scattered. Over the next hour. I had coyotes all over the woods
As darkness came to my neck of the woods. Three different yotes Howled from different areas of the farm
One even up near the barn and my truck!
I walked the half mile to the barn lot with an arrow nocked and the hair on my neck straight out the entire time

Was easing down a trail one time, went up over a little rise that led down to a swampy area and walked right up on a cow moose and her calf. Don't know who was more surprised but I sure know who was more scared - ME! Froze then slowly backed up as she gave me the stink eye. Eight hundred pounds of pissed off mama moose could sure ruin your day.

I was black bear hunting with a bow near Clifton Maine one year. We were staying in a wall tent and had packed in our provisions for a week stay. Came down out of the stand one afternoon just at dark and started walking back to camp. I was not using a light as I was walking a cut out Powerline for about a mile. I walked up on top if a bear that jumped and "whoofed" at me from like 10 or 12 FEET. There I was with about a mile or so to go back to camp and all I had was a stick and string. Needless to say I got a little spring in my step and knocked an arrow. Not really sure that would have done me any good but it sure seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Well, here's one that I haven't told because I know it'll be a "Thump post" and didn't think anyone would believe me anyway. Again, I was bear hunting in Ontario (waaaay north, around Horwood Lake). I always hunted from a ground blind built with branches and stuff I'd cut/pick-up. It added a lot more excitement to get up close and personal than sitting in a tree. Well, one year it got REAL close and personal.

I had a bait that was getting hit early every day, so I decided to go in and spend the day in my blind. Early one afternoon, my buddy and I had reset the bait with a bunch of fish guts and trimmings from the Walleye we'd catch and eat at camp. We'd throw the guts in a 5 gal. bucket and pour them onto the bait pile. As my buddy dumped the bucket on the pile, I got situated in my blind. Now, this blind was just a pile of branches I'd sit behind ... but it was open on the sides and back. When my buddy finished dumping the bucket, he stopped to check with me before leaving and we chatted a couple minutes. Just as he was leaving, he dumped the "fish juice", that had accumulated in the bottom of the bucket, all around my blind and half of it spilled on me. No prob, doesn't hurt to block that human scent. He then left and took the boat back to camp.

As I sat there, I realized I'd really f'd up. I was sitting on the ground and my butt was higher than my feet. There was NOTHING I could do to get comfortable and I was constantly moving trying to find a comfortable position. Now when you're bear hunting, the worst thing you can do is move, ESPECIALLY when you're down on their level. They don't have the greatest eyesight, but they'll pick up movement in a heartbeat and they'll be gone in a flash! I decided the only way I'd be able to sit still was to reverse my position in my blind. The problem was, I'd be watching the bait over my RIGHT shoulder and I'd have to shoot left-handed. There was no other way, so I changed position ... and waited ... and waited ... and waited. Dang! Maybe I spooked the dang thing with all the commotion as he should have come in by then. Although it's pretty light on the lake until around midnight or so, it gets dark in the bush around 9:30. I had my rifle across my lap facing the bait and my left hand on the stock. I was watching the bait over my right shoulder, but could just glance down to my left to see my watch without moving anything but my eyes. It was starting to get dark and I remember noticing the time ... about 9:15. I returned my attention to the bait. It was getting darker and I again glanced down at my watch. I not only saw that it was now 9:30 ... but I also noticed there was a BIG BLACK F'ING NOSE in my blind with me. I swear, I'll never figure out how something that big can be so quiet in the woods!

Ok, to say my heart was pounding would be an understatement! A bazillion things rushed through my mind ... number one? FREEZE ... don't panic! There was a sapling between my gun barrel and the bear so I couldn't swing my gun that direction. Even if I could, my Remington was longer than the distance between my face and that bear's face. The next thing that entered my mind was the fact my buddy had spilled all the fish juice on me and I realized "I SMELLED LIKE A FRIGGING BAIT PILE!!! (or better known as a MEAL!) About this time I'm planning how I'm gonna kill my buddy when I get back to camp ... IF I even live long enough to ever get back to camp! (you'd be surprised how much info can race through your mind in a split second!) ;)

For some unexplained reason, that bear didn't eat me, but backed up about three steps, turned to his left and vanished! He wasn't spooked, just slowly walked, but those dang things can become invisible in the dark woods. I couldn't believe it. I knew he was just feet from me but I couldn't see or hear him. I sat, still frozen in position, heart pounding ... and about 5 mins' later, there he was at the bait pile! I knocked him down with a single shot ... and had one HELLUVA story to tell back at camp. THEN I threatened to kill my bestest hunting buddy ever. :D

Ha ha! I hunted Ontario bear for many years ... so I keep recalling other stories. I guess bear hunting is spookier than hunting ducks or sumpin'. ;)

I was on only my second bear hunt and had shot a bear. Right after the shot, he let out a loud growl and hauled ass into a thick, dark, swampy area. I sat in my blind for a few minutes and later heard another loud growl back in the swamp. Crap! I ain't goin' in there by myself! I walked back to the shoreline and pumped off a few shots to signal my buddy that I needed help. By time he left camp and got to me by boat, it was pretty dang dark in the bush. I told him what had happened and we proceeded into the swamp. I ain't gonna lie ... I was scared shitless as I knew there might be a super pissed off bear in that dang, dark and spooky swamp! I "thought" I made a good shot ... but then doubt started creeping in. BUT ... my buddy's balls were about 100 times bigger than mine at the time, so I stayed right with him (okay, maybe a few steps BEHIND him!). We found the bear and realized when he'd taken off ... he was "running dead". That last growl I'd heard was his "death growl".

Now we had a problem. We had a 300 lb. bear down in this swamp and had to carry him uphill to get out of there ... and still get him out to the boat and back to camp! We cut a sapling, tied his feet together and slipped the pole between his legs. My buddy took the lead and I took up the rear position. The problem was, the bear's head was on my end and hanging right between my legs. It was a bitch to walk all bow-legged trying to hold up all that weight with that bear's head between my legs, but we struggled on up the hill as best we could. Then we came to a downed tree and had to lift that big guy up and over the tree. My buddy got on the other side of the tree and lifted the front of the pole as high as possible, while I pushed from the rear. As we dragged the bear over that tree, I guess it forced out whatever air remained in his lungs and ... you guessed it ... it came out as a loud GROWL! Now remember, I have a big-assed bear's head between my legs ... with his mouth right on my ... ummm, "manhood" ... and he lets out a loud growl! Ok, ok ... so once again, I'm in the middle of the woods screaming like a little girl! :D

And yes ... the whole camp had a good laugh that night as my buddy just could NOT keep that story to himself! :(

You 'bout a dumbass, hauling 50 to 75 pounds of guts out! If the bear was 300 you could have easily knocked him down to 250 or 225! And that's a hell of a lot easier to carry out! What would ANYONE want to carry the guts out of a swamp unless you had a backhoe, or tractor or some easy way to do it.
Did I say you is a dumbass? ;)

Ha ha! Bite me! It was a dark and nasty area and the skeeters were big as heliclopters! We had a nice skinning area set up at camp with plenty of light (Coleman lanterns ... all we had were mini-Maglites with us) and wouldn't risk messing up the hide that was going to become a rug. Trust me, it was a lot easier just to haul his lard ass out of the woods and throw him in the boat, then skin and butcher him in camp. Did I already say "Bite Me"? ;)

Damn novice, I could have cut that thing open (in a straight line) and had them guts out of there with just the glow of one match! ;)

Scares me too badly to dwell on it long enough to tell it.

I had a total dumbass stranger look me over real good through a crossbow scope several years ago. I still get the willies when I think of that.

BKB

When I was about 16, I was a big squirrel hunter, just about all i did. One overcast morning I mis-estimated the time it would get get light enough to see. I walked about a half mile back into the woods and it was still pitch black dark when a bunch of coyotes cut loose and it sounded like they were in my back pocket. My head knew they weren't dangerous but the rest of me was ready to bolt and run. I kept walking and eventually came to a big open pin oak flat where I could see a little bit. The coyotes were now inside my shirt with me. I decided the best course of action was to sit down on a big hollow log in the middle of the flat where I'd at least have a chance to take out a couple before they eviscerated me. About the time I sat down on the end of that log, a big cane cutter rabbit spooked out of that log and went right between my feet. I knew I was as good as eaten but I ran anyway. I went maybe 50 yds at a speed that would have shamed Usain Bolt before I looked back. The rabbit had done the same thing. I tried to sneak up on him to shoot him for scaring me so bad but he took off and I never got a shot. I killed a few squirrels and made it home intact with the exception of a few grey hairs and the rabbit got to live another day

Didn't scare me at the time though it should have.

Back when I was in high school there was a big buck that everyone knew about, Big Leonard, but that critter resided in a no-hunting area of the local federal wildlife refuge and would NOT come out. That is until the one day several buddies and I caught him outside the fence chasing a doe around.

The plan was for us to sneak up a draw that would get us to a point between him and the refuge fence. Everything was going our way and we KNEW one of us would be tagging him within minutes when all of a sudden a pickup of hunters spot the buck from the road and then did the only thing they could think of to get close enough to the buck for a shot, they came flying down the prairie trail and bailed out when they thought they were close enough. My group had a fence to cross and a small knoll to top in order to be able to see the buck. I was the quickest and was just topping the rise when the gents in the pickup started shooting. Even though the buck was going to cross between our two groups I KNEW they would see the five of us standing on the hillside in our florescent orange and would quit shooting when the buck came in line with us. WRONG! Two of my group never made it through the barb-wire fence but the other two did and were yelling at me to get down as the bullets started whizzing past. I've never heard this before or since but all of a sudden I hear this incoming shell that I remember sounding just like an incoming mortar round and thinking, do I roll right or left?!?!? I ended up rolling to my left and the round ended up passing over me and landing between my buddies who were about 20 feet behind me and 10 feet apart from each other!

One of those guys was immediately shaking like a leaf and PISSED. (He was the oldest in the bunch and probably not as "bullet-proof" as we younger gents.)

Didn't think it bothered me until the next weekend when while hunting in a blizzard I suddenly heard rifle shots coming from VERY close to me but I was unable to see who was shooting or it what direction. That is when the panic set in and I started FREAKING OUT! About then there was a slight break and I could see two guys who were still shooting and it looked like they were shooting AT me. I remember thinking it was time to fire my own gun to let them know I was there but instead hit the deck. A quick check through my binoculars showed me they were NOT shooting at be but away from my location but it didn't matter as I was DONE and wanted nothing more to do with being around others with guns so headed for home. Even though my dad offered to go with me on the final weekend, I almost told him that I was done with hunting as those two incidences scared the crap out of me but I reluctantly went and am glad I didn't give up deer hunting as I have had many GREAT memories deer hunting with family and friends over the years since then.

Thump's coyote/rabbit post reminded me of this one....Christmas Eve about '59 or '60, and it was a beautiful crisp sunny day....I was sitting on a big sweet gum log with several knot holes in it, holding my trusty single shot 12 gauge, loaded with buckshot.

Back then, my Dad was a member of our big local hunting club, which only hunted with deer hounds....still-hunting, climbing stands, and ladder stands hadn't even been invented, back then ;)

My Dad drew a stand at the morning lottery, which was on the banks of the Quiver River....he sent me about 50 yards up the river from him, and told me to sit on that old sweet gum log.

After the sun came up, and it began to warm up a little, the hounds were released, and were headed straight to my Dad and me....I swiveled around on my butt to face in the general direction of the hounds....I had slung one leg over the log, and was sitting straddled the log, with the shotgun at the ready-position in my arms.

I was getting excited, as the hounds approached, but happened to glance down between my legs....I was sitting spraddle-legged, with my manhood zipper, dangling right at the entrance to one of the knot holes.

Looking closer, I noticed some movement inside the knot hole....at that very instant, my Dad fired a shot at the running deer, and I swear, I knocked all the bark off that log, and prolly left some dark smelly stains on it, too. ;)

Well, he missed the deer, so we went over to investigate the knot hole....either the sun or my little hot "package", had warmed up that knot hole, just enough to bring the two foot long copperhead out of his winter slumber....Dad missed the deer, but NOT that snake. ;)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Big Muddy

Thump's coyote/rabbit post reminded me of this one....

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Man-o-man how the mind slips for you OLD dufes. That was Q/A's post. ;)

Muddy, I have no clue why, but your post reminded me of something. I was living in Memphis and crossed the bridge over to West Memphis, AR. I don't remember why ... I guess just to walk around the woods and do a bit of exploring. I was walking along the edge of a pasture right along the Mississippi and noticed a dead cow laying out in the field. Of course I had to investigate. When I got up to it, it was so bloated up it looked like it was on the verge of exploding! Of course I HAD to give it a swift kick in the ol' rib cage. Right after I gave it the boot, a whole family of opossums ran out of it's ass-hole and scattered like a bunch of giant rats! I'm not sure if it scared the bejeebers out'ta me the most ... or grossed me out the most ... but I think maybe it was a split decision and pretty much a tie. I guess they'd been in there having a feast! ;)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Thumper

Man-o-man how the mind slips for you OLD dufes. That was Q/A's post. ;)

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You are correct, sir....I shoulda been more observant.

And, I really shoulda known better because the only "squirrels" you chase, have real curly hair and smell like fish. ;););)

Thump, I grew up, eating possum nearly once a week, at my great aunt's house....the first time I witnessed the same thing you saw on that river bank that day is the last time I ate any of her possum fixings. ;)

Ha ha! Yep, I've had it myownfineself. It was nothing I'd go out of my way to eat, but it was cooked by my college roommate's aunt who was an old, hard-core pioneer type woman living in the back woods of the Tennessee hills. Coon and 'possum was a regular fare at her place. It was a real treat to have squirrel or rabbit.