Please remember guys this is a Trad bowhunting site thank you so much
How about some funny Trad Bowhunting short stories of you or a hunting bud or from hunt camp of any crazy happenings or tricks you've pulled..... :biglaugh:
one year at deer camp, my buddies brother inlaw had a toothache. lost a filling I think....so my buddie sits him over by the workbench in his garage with his magnifying visor on. and mixes up some two part epoxy putty. and filled his tooth with it. .
it was a hoot, with about six guys standin around making drill noises and carrying on.. I'm sure his dentist wasn't to happy with him over that. but it got him through, no pain. said it tasted like..sh....
and we used to go chicken fishin, tie a piece of bacon on a fishing pole and cast out into the driveway, all the chickens would come a running, then one would grab it and take off trying to get away from the other chickens and the fight was on.....just a couple memories from deer camp. :thumbsup:
I have a good friend who is more like a brother that lives in Pennsylvania, originally from Michigan. I have always made it apoint to go spend a week hunting with him since he moved, a couple other mutual friends have gone along also, on different occasions. The year super storm Sandy was pounding the east coast we were in PA hunting. Needless to say it rained everyday, so we'd go back to my buddies house and dry out a bit, and dry our hunting clothes. We were waiting for stuff to dry one day while having some lunch, my buddy Kevin and I were in his kitchen while Joe was outside on the covered deck talking on his phone to his girlfriend, (there is a big picture window over the sink looking over the deck) at the time they had an elliptical machine out there, as Joe went to lean on the elliptical, my buddy Kevin stood up turned around and the full moon was out....Joe is 6 foot something and a couple hundred pounds, disappeared from sight, totally missed the elliptical and fell flat on the deck laughing uncontrollably as was Kevin and I.
Jason
A friend of mine many years ago took his bow with him to a gun deer hunting camp so he could hunt the day before rifle season.
Mid day the day before rifle opener all the guys were sighting in there rifles at 100 yards.
One of them asked him " your so good with that bow of yours, lets see you hit that 100 yard target."
He took an arrow, drew back, aimed up into some distant trees and let fly.
The arrow flew with a rainbow arch and he hit dead center of the bulls eye.
At that the guys wanted to see him do it again and he told them " I don't have anything to prove." :laughing: :archer2:
One of my favorite hunting camp stories involves our Shrewhaven lodge crew. Roger Norris was a rookie at camp and he was trying his best to pitch in and fit in with the guys who have been going to camp for over 10 years. One night he offered to go out and get firewood to bring in to keep the woodstove going for the night. He jumped up and Ron LaClair said to Roger without beating an eyelash why don't you go ahead and turn the switch on next to the door and the front porch light will come on. Roger flicked the switch up and down two or three times and then the proverbial lightbulb went on and the camp burst out laughing. Of course there is no electricity at our camp and this was a light switch that was in place before the cabin was moved to the property. It iis still a story that is told every year at camp .
I had a cousin who's family came up to visit right in the middle of deer season. (Who does that?) Anyways, it was suggested that I take him with me on the evening hunt. This particular cousin was a major city slicker and I doubt had ever walked on anything besides asphalt before. We hunted that evening but ended up not seeing anything. To get to my spot I have to walk through the cow pasture, in which were a bunch of Holstein cows and a black angus bull. This particular bull was like a big dog and would always come running to have his ears scratched. I knew that he would probably come over to say hi while we were walking out, so I decided to have some fun with it. I told my cousin that there was a bear that I see quite a bit when walking out at night, and that we might see him. I told him just stick right behind me and we'll be fine. Anyways, pretty soon I hear pounding feet and heavy puffing and blowing right behind us. My cousin was almost stepping on my heels at this point. Next thing I know my cousin yells and pretty much landed on top of me because something big and black had just licked his arm. After I got over laughing and he stopped shaking we headed home. I actually got him to go with me the next night as well. I think he actually enjoyed it. He said none of his buddies believed him when he got home.
I've got more. I'll have to type them up.
This one time I was hunting with my grandfather and cousins as a kid. Well my cousin had to poop. He wiped with the only green leaves he could find in the middle of fall other than pines and hollies that were around the area. Turns out he shoved hand fulls of poison ivy into his pants and was allergic to it. To say he was tore up would be an understatement. While he wasn't happy about it, we all thought it was hilarious :goldtooth:.
This is about my first traditional shot on a large, "dangerous" mammal. It was about 1972 I was around 4 years old. I had a small fiberglass bow, and I was shooting small arrows with rubber suction cups at a target in my bedroom. My brother and my cousin were both in there with me, 8 years older and 7 years older respectively. Well for some reason my cousin (a rather large, bully type at the time) decided it would be a good idea to hit me up side the head with a nerf ball just as I loosed an arrow and he made me miss. So I turned, nocked another, and shot him in his ample gut, he just laughed as it bounced off, he called me a little f****er, and started at me, I then took another arrow from my quiver, pulled off the suction cup with my teeth, nocked, drew, picked a spot and hit him with the 1/4" blunt shaft in the base of the neck. He went down crying like a little girl, but no blood was drawn. My uncle (his father) and Dad, (my father) both came running into our room to see what happened. I got my ass beat, my cousin got his ass beat, I think my brother did too just for being there. I didn't see that bow again, I have no idea what happened to it. But that was my first (and last) experience with "dangerous" north American big game.
Went out angling with 2 friends of mine and we were booked on a lodge (room with toilet and a gazebo outside).
Now this area is pretty wild so I was toting a sxs shotgun and my friend had packed his samick sage. The intent was to angle and shoot the bow / other projectile weapons as we were far from civilisation.
This lodge abutts a river which is the demarcation line of cultivated country and a reserve forest. The main issue are tigers and elephants ,the latter are of more concern. We had the shotgun stoked with slugs (to be fired in the air) and the report to deter the pachyderms.
We had a great day of angling ,saw plenty of game and as night descended we were outside the electrified fence that deters the elephants.
The country being India and season summer- two of us decided to sleep in the outside platform while a city slicker decided to sleep in the room for safety sake. He felt hot later in the night (No electricity or ventilation) and decided to lay down between the two of us. The denizens of the night kept up a lively chorus and this guy woke us up several times due to fear. I got pissed off and waiting till he started to snore took my swiss knife and pricked him lightly with the awl while letting out a growl.
He did not sleep the rest of the night , we did!
Wouldn't have done it , but he was siting up to be safest in event of issues.
The other guy with the bow was the one who got me started on trad archery and told me about tradgang.
The fishing was spectacular, my first experience with a bow even more so.
Late in 1970 I moved my family to western Wyoming. The afternoon I arrived we dropped in on an old friend to get lodging lined up. His hunting buddy was there and he soon brought out an ordinary looking wooden arrow.
They told me they'd developed a coating that made arrows unbreakable (which I highly doubted). To prove it they handed me my buddie's 100# longbow and the arrow. We retired to the back yard where they presented a cinder block for a target and told me to shoot away.
I drew the arrow with it's .38 shell casing blunt as close to anchor as I could get and released. As the arrow hit the block there was a small explosion and the end of the arrow shattered and bounced back slightly.
They had partially filled the blunt (with primer) with black powder. They thought it was all pretty funny. At the time I was not to far from returning from a combat zone and didn't see the humor in it.
Looking back at it now it was kinda funny.
I have always been a notorious practical joker.An oldie but a goody I have played many times is to lay out an extensive fake blood trail and place a dollar bill with an arrow stuck through it at the end of it (a buck).I would then go back to camp and tell the guys I shot a buck and need help to find it.We would usually play this on one of the rookies in camp and we would put him on the trail and then follow behind him and get a good laugh with the bewildered look on his face when he found the arrow.I seldom got the dollar back.I was a bowhunter education instructor and back in the day part of the course required that the students practice blood trailing so I became very proficient at making very real looking fake blood,so much so that my long time hunting buddies (victims of my past pranks) would call BS if I shot a deer and the blood trail looked to be too heavy. They would taste it just to be sure which I found to be about as good as the original joke!
A few years ago we were visiting a friends deer camp after opening day of rifle season to see how they had done. The land that they lease is an old cattle ranch, so it's fairly open and you can see a long ways. One of the new guys in camp had not tagged a buck and was disappointed since he had to leave the next day. While we were sitting around inside eating lunch, a couple of the guys snuck out and set up one of those 2 dimensional buck decoys about 300 yards away from the cabin. They came back in saying that there was a big buck out in front of the cabin and that someone should shoot it. We were all in on the joke and "graciously " suggested that the new guy take it since he had to leave the next day. The guys had set up a picnic table with cushions ahead of time so that he would have a nice steady rest. We all gathered on the porch to watch the show as he settled in to take the shot. When the gun went off, the deer obviously didn't move. He decided he had missed and took another shot. By the time he had emptied his clip, we were all in tears and he was about ready to twist that gun around the nearest tree. Once he realized it was a joke he started laughing along, and when the decoy was brought back, he had put 5 shots in about a 6 inch group in the kill zone. I remember thinking at the time that was kind of a cruel joke, but he got his deer that evening and now loves to tell that story every year.
I got my first bow the summer I was 9, and had free range of my grandfather's farm in the mountains. I was given explicit instructions about safety, especially as it concerned the animals - except for the game chickens that roamed fields and forests all over. Whether an oversight on the adults' part, or that they didn't think I would ever get close enough to hit one, I have no idea (not that it would have mattered, probably.) I knew the intent that any farm animal was included not matter what was omitted, and did well - until some visiting cousins came a few weeks later. They rode me until my 9-year old ego couldn't take it, and I cut loose on the only white laying hen my grandfather had. Her back was turned, and about the time she leaned to peck where she just scratched - the arrow caught her below the base of the tail! She cackled, took off, and we all went opposite directions just as fast. A couple of months later, as my grandfather and uncle were catching chickens to fill the fall freezer, my grandfather found his long-lost hen. She was lodged on the branch of a small tree about 30 yards into the tree line. The arrow that was still there proved that a hawk or fox wasn't the culprit. I got my backside tanned good, but they let me keep the bow. I had lost all the arrows I had by then anyway. Santa didn't bring any more that Christmas!
I was hunting the rocky hill country in central Wisconsin. There is one picnic over look spot that one can view the hills around the area with about a 30 or forty foot rock cliff. I saw a group of deer about 450 yards on the opposite slope with one nice buck. The most direct way down that cliff was to put my feet on one side of a slot and leverage my back against the other. I had done it before with out my bow, it was harder, but I got her done without falling. I waded through the clear marsh at the bottom and continued my stalk up the hill, hoping to head off the deer. I got to my spot and peaked out of the small ravine, no deer, I waited, no deer. I gave up thinking I needed to get a better view of the area. That bigger buck was bedded not 15 yards from me. It stood up, I had an arrow on the string and I shot a sapling between me and the deer. I swear that sapling was not there before I released. Mad as hell at myself for being so blind, I gimped my way down the hill heading back to my little pickup parked up at the over look. I picked the wrong spot to cross the bog, I sunk past my knees in boot sucking muck. By the time I got to dry ground, I was beat and decided i had to do a serious number 2 before squirreling up that slot in the cliff. I found a good log for my purpose. Then thinking that at least i got that done right, I looked up at the cliff. Two girls or young women were aghast and looking straight down at me. Embarrassed as hell and not knowing what to do, I raced for the slot. I heard screams. When I got to the top there was no one around. I stood on the edge of the cliff and looked back at what could have been.
Good stuff guys!! Lol
I got winded by a beaver last season! I thought that was pretty comical!!
Critter, I don't quite know what to say....
So I'll just not say anything..
:laughing: :wavey:
I had a hunting buddy who is now deceased... I miss the guy. Anyway, he had a heart of gold and truly loved hunting whitetails. There were times when he didn't quite seem to be the sharpest pencil in the box. Therein lies the subject of many humorous incidents. Here are a couple.
We were on a hunt in late October and the evening it started to rain. Butch had dropped me off so I'd have to wait for him to show up before I could hope to get in out of the weather. I don't usually hunt in the rain but I stayed on stand until legal shooting time came around.
I was hunting a river bottom so it was all pretty flat with the only obstacle being down timber and under growth. I'm a little quirky in that I don't always carry a light when hunting. That was the situation this evening.
I was stumbling along in the dark headed for the pick up point which was the levee that bounded the bottom. Butch would be parked on top of it waiting when I got out. As I came into a more open stretch within 60 yds. of the truck Butch turned on the head lights which were pointed right at me. His intent was to light things up so I could see better but the lights had the opposite effect and blinded me making travel even more difficult.
I tipped my head down so the brim of my hat would shield my eyes a little. It helped some but I was still tripping and stumbling. It was what it was and I knew he meant well.
No sooner had that thought passed through my mind when he hit the high beams. Now I was really blinded and cursing quite a bit because of it.
Finally I got close enough that I was under the lights and made the last few yards to the levee easily. It was a short climb up and by this time I was totally soaked but my anger had subsided.
As I walked up to the truck and started to take off my gear, Butch rolled the window down enough to he could talk to me and not let rain in. He started telling me every little detail of his hunt. Did I mention that he hadn't unlocked the truck door. I grabbed the door handle and tried to lift it. He never missed a lick and kept talking. Finally I yelled at him to unlock the f...ing door. It seemed to take a second to register but he finally unlocked it.
I climbed in in a pretty sour mood and he never missed a beat in his storytelling.
The very next day I had the truck and dropped him off for the afternoon hunt. My feeling from the night before had cooled considerably. Matter of fact I had already forgotten it... that is right up to the time I pulled off the county road into the hay meadow to pick him up. As I turned off the road the truck lights swept across the meadow. I could see Butch standing along the edge of the woods waiting.
As I drew closer I saw him dip his head avoiding the glare of the lights while he took a few steps to one side. I turned the wheel ever so slightly at the same time hitting the high beams. Grinning at the payback I followed him with the lights as he moved back and forth along the wood line.
I'd have felt bad about it but it never really sunk in with Butch what I'd done. There are dozens of stories just like this one. It seemed as if it was something new every hunt. I sure miss his old hide.
Quote from: Roy from Pa on April 22, 2018, 03:11:47 PM
Critter, I don't quite know what to say....
So I'll just not say anything..
:laughing: :wavey:
Lol!!! I didn't either!!
I was hunting a funnel between a river and the old channel. I hear something behind me and turn to get ready and see a big fat beaver waddling my way. When it gets to the path I crossed it was straight down wind of me . It raised its chubby little head and twitched its nose a few times then turns and waddled back the way it came!
I just chuckled inside and kept on hunting!!
My best prank ever was played on two of my long time hunting buddies.We grew up shooting bows together so naturally there was a certain amount of competitiveness in all of us when it came to bow hunting.Years ago back then we used to day lease property to bow hunt, not being able to afford an annual lease.We would pay $125 dollars for 3 days of hunting and allowed to shoot a buck and a doe.Needless to say you did not get too particular about what you shot.Even though we were proficient at taking deer none of us had shot a buck of any consequence to that point in our bowhunting careers.We would still refer to them as 6 pointers or 8 pointers etc,rather than assigning them a P@Y number.Before leaving on the hunt I acquired a set of monster sheds from a taxidermist friend. They were from a northern deer and probably 160" class.I drilled holes in the bases and glued in lag screws with the points sticking out.I hid them in one of my gear tubs I carried on the trip.We took my vehicle for the trip and were hunting about a 600 acre piece of property on which we camped.I would drop the guys off at different areas and pick them up after we finished the days hunt.After the first day hunt one of my buddies who was hunting a stand closest to me reported seeing a "monster" buck walking a fence line headed toward my direction.Well the stage was set.The next afternoon I dropped the guys off and climbed into my stand.After less than a hour an average doe comes meandering by and I shoot her and she goes down after running a short distance.I climb down go back to camp and get the shed horns and go back to the downed doe and screw the giant horns into the does head and drag her out to just off the dirt road and prop her head up on a rock.Now those of you familiar with Texas deer know that even though that there are some areas that grow decent horns ,Texas is not known for large bodied deer.This was central Texas and this doe field dressed at maybe 70 lbs.It looked like a german shepard mated with a bull elk!I waited until dark thirty and went to pick up my buddies.I casually mentioned in an unconvincing, matter of fact manner that I shot the buck that had been seen the day before.They both called BS and by then it is dark and we are driving back through the ranch and they are giving me the usual "yeah right lets see the big buck" when I veer the truck off the road and point the headlights squarely toward my deer. They both bail out of the truck and run over to the deer.As soon as they can put their eyes back into their sockets and pick their jaws up off the ground and can finally speak - "Look at the SIZE of that BLEEP!That BLEEP is unbelievable!"I stand silently by wearing a smug look.Enter the green monster.One of them remembers that I have already filled my buck tag earlier in the season and now loudly announces that bit of information.I explained to them that there was no way I could pass up a deer like this and I figured they would let me use one of their tags.This is where you find out the meaning of years of true friendship."HELL NO!!- Your on your own buddy!!- you better hope you don't run into the game warden!!"Now the fun part.One of them says rather disgustingly "well we might as well get him loaded in the truck" I stand by as one of them grabs one side of the antlers and one grabs the other and with a big jerk they pull both the horns off!! There are no words to describe the look on their faces.It was a good thing I brought my truck otherwise it would have been a long walk home.
My first elk hunt with Mike Westvang, Mike told me to buy an Elk cow called Hoochy Mama. My instruction was a few seconds after he bugled, I squeezed the Hoochy Mama one time. OK I got this.
We were in pretty heavy cover. Heard a bull bugle pretty close. Mike let's go with a challenge bugle. 1, 2, 3 I squeeze my cow call. All of a sudden Mike throws a hissy fit. He is bearing branch's, raking a limb on othe trees. Stomping on the ground. He is making this sound like he has got a fish bone stuck in his throat. I had about decided that he was indeed in respiratory distress and I better do something.
No, it was part of elk calling he had not mentioned. I did keep an eye on him for a while. To see a 6'4" 250# fellow throw a hissy fit will get you attention. 🤠😜
Heck Rusty that Hissy fit called in a 6 pt and a hunter if I remember right.
Mike
That is a fact. Both your hissy fit and the sight of a six point elk, I,had to check see what condition my condition was in pretty exciting :o
I flat fell in love hunting grouse while Mike and I went on elk hunts in Idaho. I wanted to video a grouse hunt. Next year I took my camcorder. Sure enough we got into a bunch of grouse. Mike was shooting and I was videoing. I put my bow and quiver down cause we were moving quickly from one landing spot to the next.
Finally we chased them off. I turn around and had no idea where my bow and quiver was. We had to run the tape back and follow it to my bow and quiver DUH
Most fun I ever had hunting. 😆
These are great guys keep them coming please! :biglaugh:
I don't want to hog this thread but after hunting with a bow exclusively for over 50 plus years I have enough stories to write a book, which I probably should do before I get too old to remember them. Here is another: I was on an archery only deer lease for a number of years here in Texas.The only equipment allowed was bow and arrow.We had a strict written policy that no firearms were allowed on the property.The guy that ran the lease was a terrible bow hunter.He shot just good enough to hit deer but not kill them.I along with the other lease members offered to help him but he was the typical loud mouth know it all and did not want our assistance.He seldom practiced and as a result he shot so poorly this guy would lose 3 sometimes 4 deer each season.He really had no business bow hunting.Lets say his name was Doogie.One day at the lease after the morning hunt a group of us were sitting around camp.Doogie was not back from hunting yet.Suddenly we heard 3 rapid shots fired from what sounded like a pistol.A couple of us jumped in the truck and headed to investigate.Well there was Doogie standing over a dead buck and a 9mm pistol in his hand.He claimed he shot the deer earlier with his bow but it was still alive when he found it and had to finish it off with the pistol.You can imagine that the other members of the hunting lease were not happy about this situation but since he ran the show there was not much we could do - or maybe there was.One of my buddies and I hatched a plan.After returning home we found a half dozen of the screw in blunt arrow points,the kind that are perfectly flat across the ends.We then epoxied some 9mm cartridges to them.Everybody was at the lease the following week including Doogie.He had his own travel trailer that he stayed in and always hung his bow along with quiver on a hook just outside of his door.After he went to bed we removed all of his broadheads from his arrows and replaced them with the 9mm bullet tipped points.He went out hunting the next morning and was at full draw on a deer before he noticed the bullet at the end of his arrow!
I once belly crawled up to the base of a tree of some gobblers late one spring morning in my teens. This was only my first or second season hunting turkeys so I had a lot to learn. But I took my time & did it right. I moved only when the wind blew the grass. I used as much cover as I could find. They were clueless up there -- some had their wings spread out just sunning themselves as I got in position to shoulder my 12 gauge. It was about 10 am and why they weren't on the ground mattered less than the fact that they were right there above me. It didn't seem right so I finally double checked with my binoculars. I finally saw that those short-necked, lazy turkeys were just a flock of vultures...
One day while bowfishing my buddy had to go #2. pulled my boat to the nearest island and he barely made it to the bushes.
after he was done, he went the other way, was looking at deer sign. he came back to the boat and I noticed an awful Oder. turns out he stepped in his own pile. he had 2 choices, leave his shoes on the island or stay on the island. fish were spawning and I was going back after them. Turned out his shoes stayed there until he could go back with a plastic bag.
he no longer has the shoes and were still pals.
Guys just say the word and I will shut up.Until then grab your coffee this a long read. Bow fishing has always been my passion since my introduction to archery and I have had some of most memorable adventures bow fishing but none compare to The Fish Joust. In order to fully appreciate this story it is necessary to set the background. Revealing my age,my bow fishing began with the hand wind hoop style reels and home made arrows with barbs made from piano wire with the progression to Zebco 33 reels and store bought arrows on through the modern equipment everyone shoots today.We would bow fish the local gravel pits and local lakes and rivers for mainly carp ,buffalo and long nose gar.However the holy grail in bow fishing was the alligator gar.These prehistoric fish grow to lengths over 9 ft and can weigh in excess of 250 lbs.In Texas it is found in only in certain locations ,mainly remote inaccessible places .Nowadays with the internet with social media , You Tube etc. all of the where and howtos are a button click away. Back then prime fishing spots were a closely guarded secret .You probably stood a better chance of borrowing somebody's wife than them giving you the location of their favorite honey hole." Man!! Thats a nice bass, where did you catch it? Answer -"In the corner of its mouth".This was especially true with gator gar.It seemed that only a handful of people knew anything about gator gar, most folks never even having seen a picture of one.I and my bow fishing buddies knew the river the gar lived, a wild ,muddy, winding and often treacherous remote place that runs the length of the state in east Texas but could not find the secret location to launch the boat. Here is the cast of players.There was a young man ,we will say is name is "John," that when he was in his early teens we invited to take bow fishing with us on one of our local excursions. He became obsessed with it.He bought all of the gear and a boat especially for that purpose.The reason that I knew him was because 15 years prior I used to work for his daddy, an attorney,at his law firm during my college years .His daddy was now a highly respected judge and a friend of mine.John had actually gone to work for me for a number of years but had recently moved when his wife took a teaching job in east Texas. John had discovered the secret launch place at the river.He began showing me the pictures of the 6 ft plus gar he and his buddy were shooting.They would spend days at a time on the river camping like hobos underneath the bridge.There was only one problem- John would not tell me the location of the secret launch place! I could not believe it! After all I had done for him and....Well there was another friend of mine that knew where the secret launch place but was sworn by the guy that took him not to tell where anyone it was.This he honored for years but in a weak moment he agreed to go along with me and one of my other buddies and go bow fishing at the river.After a 2 hour drive we reached the secret launch place and lo and behold Johns truck and boat trailer were parked there.It was late spring and the recent heavy rains had the river stretching way out of its banks and it was sucking huge trees off the banks into the thick muddy butterscotch colored water.There was trash and debris swirling around in large vortexes.It was one of only times on the water that gave me the urge to wear a life jacket, although I didn't. We stowed the bow fishing gear and launched my 16 ft flat bottom jon boat off of the bank and even with the 60 hp Mercury it did not seem like enough boat for the river in its current condition.We navigated up the river stopping to troll up the swollen feeder creeks checking for gar.We did manage to shoot a 5 footer in one of the creeks.We had just eased out into the river again when we hear the motor of a boat and looking up the river another jon boat is coming our way.There are 3 guys in the boat and one of them reaches down and picks up something and throws it at us as they are driving past us.A large carp hits the front deck and ricochets off into the water.They turn around and pull up and sure enough it is John, his bow fishing buddy ,and Johns younger brother "Tim".Now Tim was not a bow fisher but Tim was getting married the following week and they brought him along for his batchelor party of sorts and judging from the fact they were knee deep in beer cans the party was well underway.John was aggravated the we had found his secret gar spot and as they were pulling away said that if they saw us on the river again that day that we had better have some carp because there was going to be a "fish joust".As they motored off we looked at one another and somebody said "what the hell is a fish joust?"I said I am not sure but maybe we should shoot some carp just in case.As the day wore on we did not get a chance to to shoot any more gator gar but we did shoot a bunch of 3 to 4 lb carp and one big buffalo that must have weighed at least 12 lbs. We threw them all in a bloody mess on the floor of the boat.It was late in the afternoon and we decided call it a day and headed back up the river toward the launch place still a mile or so away dodging logs and floating debris still washing down the river.As we rounded a bend here comes the gar boys.They are coming at us full speed and 2 of them are reaching down for fish.It suddenly occurs to us what a "fish joust" was .With immediate haste with one driving the boat, the other two of us grab up carp from the bottom of the boat.We approach one another coming head on at full speed the boats passing just feet apart and unleash a barrage of bloody carp toward the opponents boat as they whiz past ,slimy carp hitting the boats with loud thunks with scales and guts spraying everywhere.We are a couple of hundred yards past each other before we can turn around for another pass.One of my buddies grabs a deck lid from the boat to use as a shield.We make another high speed pass escaping with some near misses.As we circle around for the third round my buddy picks up the 12 lb buffalo and hunkers down behind the deck lid shield.At the second the boats pass he raises up and overhands the big buffalo hitting Tim (who is standing up) square in the face and catapults him 10 feet back straight out of the boat and he disappears into the muddy river!!!By the time either of us could stop the boats we were a hundred yards apart and Tim was nowhere to be seen.My mind is racing thinking how I am going to explain to the judge (his daddy) what happened to his son.We sped over to the spot where he went in looking for any sign of him. After what seemed like an eternity I cannot explain my relief when he finally blubbered up to the surface dazed and confused with his face all bloodied from kissing the flying fish.No debate on who won the fish joust.You can imagine what Tim looked like in his wedding pictures taken the following week.
Thanks for sharing ! Nice read
Toad Smith, I crossed paths with him many times. The first time, I was cross row still hunting a corn field. I could hear a deer, but could not see it. Every time I would move a little it would move a little. Finally 15 at half draw, I stepped into the next corn row, and there it was, Toad Smith at half draw. Toad wouldn't ever admit it, but he made a loud girly sound. After we got to the end of the field, Toad motioned me over. We sat and rested, i think his heart was giving him trouble already. He suggested that we go into town for lunch. When we got to our cars, he had a little yellow four wheel drive. He pointed to a stain in his passenger seat and said we're taking your pickup. On the way to town. He said, "Remember that hillbilly that I was with at the place up north?" He went on to explain that the other morning, while heading out in the dark, he had to stop in the middle of a picked field to take a number 2. When they continued their slow walk, Toad said, "You stink" HIs friend said, "yes, that one was ripe." Toad, after a few more slow steps. "No, you really stink." His skinny buddy had pooped in his own overalls. He declared that he was going to get even with him. Toad had a bait and archery shop in his home town, he invented 'Toad's Secret Buck Lure', the next fall he offered his buddy a life time supply and told him to use a lot of it, "There's more where that came from." He offered some to me as well, I said, "No thanks, I stink bad enough already." He said, "Well at least you're man enough to admit it." Then he chuckled and I asked what's so funny. He went on to explain that his buddies were having no luck with their stands at all that year. Toad's Secret Buck Lure was deer repellent, he said "man that stuff really works."
I work at a good course during the summer and one of the big problems that we have every year are skunks and raccoons digging up the airways for worms and grubs. Generally we take a cart and a spotlight out at night and shoot them with a .22, but one night I decided I was going to bring my longbow with some arrows and lighted nocks. I was going to try for raccoons and leave the skunks to the guys with the .22's. Anyways one night we went out and right off the bat had a pair of eyes glowing in the fairway. It took off and ran up a tree, which meant coon and that I was up. My buddy was holding a flashlight next to me so that I could see what I was aiming at. I drew back and the first arrow shaved some hair off his shoulder. This caused the coon to change positions so that I had to get closer to the tree and take a much steeper shot. The flashlight was repositioned next to me and I shot again. This time I got him right through the chest. He started to lose his grip and fell out of the tree. Up to this point it had never occurred to me to back up away from the tree. I was just standing there watching. Suddenly though I had a ticked of raccoon falling straight towards me. My buddy panicked and took off with the light leaving me in the dark. The only thing I could see was my red lighted nock bouncing from limb to limb, and which hit the ground with a snarl and came right at me. At this point my buddy decided to help out by shining the light on me and blinding me, which makes running kind of difficult. He later told me that it looked like I was running from a firefly. The coon didn't last more than a few seconds, but it was pretty exciting. My buddy got his payback later that night when the skunk that he shot sprayed.
At deer camp in Northern Lower peninsula of Michigan my one but is a mountain dew junkie. We are at the breakfast table and instead of coffee he is drinking and so liter bottle of Dew. He doesn't bleach once,
. After breakfast we go out and put on our camo that is hanging in trees so as to keep camp smells off of it. My but puts on a brand new set of Scentlok. When he bends over to the his boots there is an eruption from deep inside him that may well have been worthy of a Guinness World record. A couple of guys down wind gag and cough. I take a sip of coffee and say, "Well I guess that proves those suits don't work, or you just burned a hole through the seat of your pants."
This week I was turkey hunting. Had a nice gobbler come past my first window at 10 yards but couldn't turn to shoot due to cramped quarters with my dad in there. After a while the neighbor lady went for a walk and we packed up since she was doing laps through the property. Went back to the house and a flock of turkeys moved across the driveway in front of us. Came back an hour later to meet the farrier who said a flock of turkeys was standing in the driveway. Worked on the house for a couple hours when I came outside a couple turkeys were sitting at the base of our steps. I need to hunt from the house instead of carrying all my gear to the woods. [attachment=1]
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Dad's buddy drew a limited draw tag to hunt some primo ground in MO. He hung a stand in a great spot and got settled in early. About 9am he had to do his business but had been seeing deer since he got up in the tree. He decided to lean over the edge of his stand and hang onto the seat. Well when he went to wipe he misplaced his grip and fell 12 ft right into his poop flat on his back. It was then he realized that he was so excited seeing deer all morning from dawn in the field he was overlooking that he forgot to put his harness on the tree. After catching his breath because he knocked the wind out of himself...He reached down and felt his man hood and said, "oh thank god." and got up and went home, threw his poopy jacket away and shot a 12 point the next morning.