Resica
Senior Member
Thats scary!
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Tell a hunting or fishing story
- Thread starter Danuwoa
- Start date
Cool Hand Luke
Senior Member
Hunting a deep draw OTG as far back as I can get on my small lease in NE GA. Killed a buck and that's when the fun starts. Gutted him and started to drag staright up hill. At 58, I ain't as in shape as I used to be so decided to try the rope and pully method. Tie pully to a tree, I pull downhill, the deer goes uphill, it's gotta work! Had all my weight on that rope walking backwards, it worked for a minute until my knot let go. If I had it on film, America's Funniest home videos would have enjoyed watching me tumble down that hill end over end, luckily not impaling myself on the bucks antlers. I finally just decided to take my time and drag the rest of the way 
Danuwoa
Redneck Emperor
Thanks, man. Thanks for taking part. Enjoying it myself.
I wanna hear about that time you got attackted by Bigfoot.
Danuwoa
Redneck Emperor
I was thinking about posting that. But I can not remember that guy’s screen name and can’t find those posts for reference.I wanna hear about that time you got attackted by Bigfoot.
I don’t think that guy has ever posted again since telling that wild story.
I shouldn`t tell on myself like this, and the only witness ain`t here no more, but here goes.
Thursday morning before Good Friday 2007, I went straight from home to the Seminole County woods. I didn`t even go by the cabin to unpack first. I figured to do that later in the day.
It was cool and the wind was blowing purty good. If any birds gobbled, I sure couldn`t hear em. After hitting my favorite listening spots for nothing, I set up and did a little calling. Two hens came by for a look see, but that was it for the day, except for one gobbler that I saw cross a woods road and he was too far to hear me, due to the wind.
Friday morning, it was even cooler and the wind was worse too. Again, no gobbling, and around 10:30, I decided to go to Gateway in Donaldsonville for some dinner. Around 12:30, I was back and set up in a good strutting area. It had warmed up a little, the wind had slacked up some, I was full of turnip greens and cornbread, so I gave a few yelps on the Vernon Holt box, leaned my gun against the tree, rolled my sweatshirt up for a pillow, and went to sleep. I woke up once and checked my pocket watch and it was 1:30. I gave a few more yelps on the box and drifted off again. The next thing I knew, I was rudely awakened by a loud TOCK? TOCK? I slowly looked around good as I could and didn`t see nothing. Figuring I was maybe imagining things, I reached over and gave the box a few licks without ever getting up. I was laying there flat on my back contemplating the sky when this time for sure I heard another TOCK? off my right shoulder. I peeked over, and standing there flatfooted, at a later stepped off 18 steps was a gobbler, looking around mighty hard. The first thing in my mind was, "bird, you`re just as safe there as if you would be in the next county". Here I was, laying down, no hat, gloves, or facemask on, and my gun outa reach without a drastic movement. Folks, anybody who turkey hunts gets in an awkward situation ever once in a while, but this was ridiculous. After a few more TOCKS?, he stepped forward and went behind a big tree. In one motion I set up against my tree and pulled my hat on with the brim down low over my eyes. He came out and in a few more steps, went behind another tree. This time I grabbed my gun and came up with it. I had to let him take several steps to get in the clear enough of some sapling oaks to the shot. Another look at the watch and it was 2:20. He had a 10 1\2 inch beard, one 1 inch spur, the other leg didn`t have anything at all, and I`m guessing that he weighed around 19 pounds or so.
Saturday was a repeat of Thursday, with no gobbling, and nosy hens.
I guess it`s a good thing he was in a conversational mood, or I might still be there asleep. I`m sure I`ll take another nap in the turkey woods, but, if possible, I`ll be a little better prepared if this happens again. At least I`ll have my gun within reach.
Thursday morning before Good Friday 2007, I went straight from home to the Seminole County woods. I didn`t even go by the cabin to unpack first. I figured to do that later in the day.
It was cool and the wind was blowing purty good. If any birds gobbled, I sure couldn`t hear em. After hitting my favorite listening spots for nothing, I set up and did a little calling. Two hens came by for a look see, but that was it for the day, except for one gobbler that I saw cross a woods road and he was too far to hear me, due to the wind.
Friday morning, it was even cooler and the wind was worse too. Again, no gobbling, and around 10:30, I decided to go to Gateway in Donaldsonville for some dinner. Around 12:30, I was back and set up in a good strutting area. It had warmed up a little, the wind had slacked up some, I was full of turnip greens and cornbread, so I gave a few yelps on the Vernon Holt box, leaned my gun against the tree, rolled my sweatshirt up for a pillow, and went to sleep. I woke up once and checked my pocket watch and it was 1:30. I gave a few more yelps on the box and drifted off again. The next thing I knew, I was rudely awakened by a loud TOCK? TOCK? I slowly looked around good as I could and didn`t see nothing. Figuring I was maybe imagining things, I reached over and gave the box a few licks without ever getting up. I was laying there flat on my back contemplating the sky when this time for sure I heard another TOCK? off my right shoulder. I peeked over, and standing there flatfooted, at a later stepped off 18 steps was a gobbler, looking around mighty hard. The first thing in my mind was, "bird, you`re just as safe there as if you would be in the next county". Here I was, laying down, no hat, gloves, or facemask on, and my gun outa reach without a drastic movement. Folks, anybody who turkey hunts gets in an awkward situation ever once in a while, but this was ridiculous. After a few more TOCKS?, he stepped forward and went behind a big tree. In one motion I set up against my tree and pulled my hat on with the brim down low over my eyes. He came out and in a few more steps, went behind another tree. This time I grabbed my gun and came up with it. I had to let him take several steps to get in the clear enough of some sapling oaks to the shot. Another look at the watch and it was 2:20. He had a 10 1\2 inch beard, one 1 inch spur, the other leg didn`t have anything at all, and I`m guessing that he weighed around 19 pounds or so.
Saturday was a repeat of Thursday, with no gobbling, and nosy hens.
I guess it`s a good thing he was in a conversational mood, or I might still be there asleep. I`m sure I`ll take another nap in the turkey woods, but, if possible, I`ll be a little better prepared if this happens again. At least I`ll have my gun within reach.
Danuwoa
Redneck Emperor
That dang TOCK will make you want to bite a nail in two.
This was around 1990 in Talbot County that this happened. Me and Kawaliga were turkey hunting one morning and had one gobbling a few hills over on the roost. We eased that way being careful and quiet. When we figured we were close enough Kawaliga owl hooted. The dang turkey gobbled but was farther in than we thought. We went on a ways and found a good spot on a hill top overlooking a bottom between him and us and started calling. He gobbled but this time he was even farther! We got up and moved again and sat down and called. I don’t know how many times that turkey gobbled but it seemed like a hundred. Finally he went quiet. We were expecting to see him coming over the opposite hill or up the bottom any minute. We waited. No turkey. Five minutes went by. No turkey and no more gobbling. Ten minutes and still nothing. Finally after about fifteen minutes my daddy yelped and the turkey gobbled over the hill behind us. We couldn’t believe it. We adjusted our position and called and he gobbled again. Went the through the same thing with him gobbling but never coming to us. We waited and nothing happened. An hour went by and we didn’t hear him again and hadn’t seen him. We were sure he was long gone.
We decided to go on up the hill and decide what to do from there. By this time it had been about an hour and fifteen minutes of silence and no turkey in sight. We got to the top of the hill, leaned our guns against a tree and took our face masks off. “TOCK.” Kawaliga looked at me like he was ready to let out a long string of profanity. “TOCK.” The turkey headed down the bottom doing that and all we could do was watch him go. That sucker had hung around in the next bottom over the hill not making a sound for well over and hour. Sometimes it just be’s like that.
Resica
Senior Member
Nice story and ending. I've fallen asleep turkey hunting but never laid down flat. Nice job!!
Raylander
I’m Billy’s Useles Uncle.
Caught a water snake on a panther Martin when I was about 8 or so. Dropped my pole and took off running. My uncle got the snake loose and turned him free. Worst part was that I lost a ninja turtle flip flop in the madness..
Raylander
I’m Billy’s Useles Uncle.
As payment for getting that snake loose. I proceeded to hook my uncle in the side of the dome with that same panther Martin. He and my Dad devised a plan to get it out involving some liquor and a pair of needle nose pliers. Losta cussing later he was unhooked
Raylander
I’m Billy’s Useles Uncle.
Shot a mule deer one time with a .308. That thing dropped right in its tracks. It was a decent walk over to it. When I arrived I gave it a poke like you see on TV. Dang thing jumped up took off running and then about 50-60yds away fell over dead as a doornail. I had to leave my drawers in the woods that day
Pig Predator
Useles Billy’s Fishel Hog Killer ?
My Paw took me to a fish rodeo on lake winfield scott when I was 6. He usually always took me to coopers and sent me off with a can of corn and salmon eggs but this time he handed me a bucket of minnows, a couple bobbers and set me off at the culvert where the creek feeds the lake.
I threw my bobber and minnow out and watched it just swim around. I would let out more line every now and again to give it more lead way as other kids started filling the bank and casting their corn and salmon eggs. As we began getting pretty shoulder to shoulder on the bank and other kids been catching fish and me not being accustomed to the lake trout fishing, still lettin my lonesome minnow swim around...
Finally!! What seemed like an hr; something smashes my minnow! Me leaving the old zebco 33 drag loose, and this fish is runnin back and forth, took me 5 minutes or so to get it to the bank. It was a whopper...and there was another line wrapped around the hook. I start to pull that line onto the bank and something starts to fight me! Its another trout! I get that trout out of the water and you guessed it.... Another line wrapped up.
By this time I had grown a little bit of a crowd of my brother fishing peers. I start to pull the line thinking no way, probably a old boot or hung on a tree or tire or something and sure nuff it starts fighting! Another trout! No one could believe it! Three trout with one minnow on one cast! WOOOOOO!!!!
Cool thread Dano.
I threw my bobber and minnow out and watched it just swim around. I would let out more line every now and again to give it more lead way as other kids started filling the bank and casting their corn and salmon eggs. As we began getting pretty shoulder to shoulder on the bank and other kids been catching fish and me not being accustomed to the lake trout fishing, still lettin my lonesome minnow swim around...
Finally!! What seemed like an hr; something smashes my minnow! Me leaving the old zebco 33 drag loose, and this fish is runnin back and forth, took me 5 minutes or so to get it to the bank. It was a whopper...and there was another line wrapped around the hook. I start to pull that line onto the bank and something starts to fight me! Its another trout! I get that trout out of the water and you guessed it.... Another line wrapped up.
By this time I had grown a little bit of a crowd of my brother fishing peers. I start to pull the line thinking no way, probably a old boot or hung on a tree or tire or something and sure nuff it starts fighting! Another trout! No one could believe it! Three trout with one minnow on one cast! WOOOOOO!!!!
Cool thread Dano.
Danuwoa
Redneck Emperor
That’s an awesome story, man.
Pig Predator
Useles Billy’s Fishel Hog Killer ?
Thanks. It's hard for me to tell a story. I can't tell a bunch of it at the end on account of it may tarnish my respectable Paws legacy amongst some and its a kid friendly site..
Danuwoa
Redneck Emperor
I’d love to hear it some time.
turkeykirk
Senior Member
Was up in NY Spring turkey hunting with my hunting buddy many years ago. First time meeting him. We are getting set up on a gobbler and he puts on a head net with one eye hole. I thought, man, this guy is really serious about being camouflaged. Come to find out he only has one eye. (Lost one in a child hood accident )
Also, on that trip, we stopped at a dead end road. A truck is parked there. It’s getting daylight and we get out of our truck and are standing near the other truck. My buddy said give a good old Southern “who cooks for you all” owl hoot. A step away nearer to the other truck. I let rip with the hoot. Things went crazy. All of a sudden, a naked man and woman jumped out of the bed of the pickup by me and jumped in the cab and took off. We stood there stunned and laughing. Didn’t hear any gobbling there but did see a good looking naked woman!!
Also, on that trip, we stopped at a dead end road. A truck is parked there. It’s getting daylight and we get out of our truck and are standing near the other truck. My buddy said give a good old Southern “who cooks for you all” owl hoot. A step away nearer to the other truck. I let rip with the hoot. Things went crazy. All of a sudden, a naked man and woman jumped out of the bed of the pickup by me and jumped in the cab and took off. We stood there stunned and laughing. Didn’t hear any gobbling there but did see a good looking naked woman!!
TurkeyH90
Senior Member
Me a buddy I grew up with and our boys on the Altamaha five or six years ago. About 5 pm bream fishin is dead and I start hanging my limblines. We been fishin this stretch since we were teenagers. I don't usually put and reflectors or markers to keep from giving away my spots. We hang about 6 or 8 and come back around an hour before dark to bait them. We baited a few and I went to pull up the third one and it felt as if it had snagged a root or something. This happens pretty often. Now this root pulled back. I am trying to process what is goin on and tell my buddy to grab the net. I pull it up and we got us about a 12 lb blue. Only fish I've ever caught on a bare hook. Luckily I had 3 witnesses!
I had a brief career as a professional trophy bass fisherman.
I was a teenager, and had been seeing all those articles in Outdoor Life and Field and Stream about catching monstrous bass at night. So, I read them all up until I was a professional and knew all about it. It was time to bring the game. I mail-ordered me a big, black muskie-sized Jitterbug and waited and waited for it to arrive.
There is a small lake near here that is owned by a large church organization, and it has some absolutely huge largemouths in it. There is a walkway across the dam, and at one point you could stop and look over the side, and there would be two or three of those massive, thick bass lazily finning down there, looking up at you with eyes the size of marbles and seemingly sneering. I wanted one of those bass. Bad. At that time, this lake wasn't exactly open to the public for fishing. Not even remotely close to that. Not a problem. I was a very creative fisherman in those days.
About midnight one dark, moonless summer night, a professional trophy bass fisherman parked his old truck about a quarter-mile away on the county road, pushed through a hedge, and slithered through the shadows and over the guard rail near the dam. He crept out onto a small rocky point, navigating mostly by feel, guided by previous daylight scouting. A bullfrog was harrumphing out in the darkness, and water lapped gently at the rocks. A zziiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzz was heard, followed by a massive wet "plop" somewhere out in the pitch darkness next to the dam wall where those giant bass lurked. He waited for what seemed like eternity, then twitched the rod tip and reeled a couple turns.
Gurglegurgle. Pause. Gurgle. Pause. Gurglegurglegurglegurgle. Pause. Gur....
The night stillness was broken by a sound like the proverbial toilet flushing, and the rod was about yanked out of his hand. He set the hook like Bill Dance, and the drag started screaming. He fought and fought the fish, gaining line, then losing it again over and over. This had to be a state record, at least, he thought. He finally got the fish up to the bank, switched on his little headlamp, and reached down to lip-
A twenty-pound carp. It stared at him in the headlamp beam, its rubbery onion-ring lips wrapped firmly around his mail order black muskie-sized jitterbug. Just as he got it unhooked, he heard an engine. It stopped at the corner of the dam, and a spotlight swept down toward him and the point of light cast by his headlamp. He quickly shut the headlamp off, and jumped behind an azalea bush.
About twenty past midnight on a dark, moonless, summer night, a professional trophy carp fisherman quickly slunk through the shadows across the guardrail, busted through a hedge, getting skint all over, and fled to his old truck parked about a quarter mile away on the county road. He threw his rod into the bed, jumped in, and took off like Charlie Daniels leaving the parking lot of the Dew Drop Inn. He never went back.
I was a teenager, and had been seeing all those articles in Outdoor Life and Field and Stream about catching monstrous bass at night. So, I read them all up until I was a professional and knew all about it. It was time to bring the game. I mail-ordered me a big, black muskie-sized Jitterbug and waited and waited for it to arrive.
There is a small lake near here that is owned by a large church organization, and it has some absolutely huge largemouths in it. There is a walkway across the dam, and at one point you could stop and look over the side, and there would be two or three of those massive, thick bass lazily finning down there, looking up at you with eyes the size of marbles and seemingly sneering. I wanted one of those bass. Bad. At that time, this lake wasn't exactly open to the public for fishing. Not even remotely close to that. Not a problem. I was a very creative fisherman in those days.
About midnight one dark, moonless summer night, a professional trophy bass fisherman parked his old truck about a quarter-mile away on the county road, pushed through a hedge, and slithered through the shadows and over the guard rail near the dam. He crept out onto a small rocky point, navigating mostly by feel, guided by previous daylight scouting. A bullfrog was harrumphing out in the darkness, and water lapped gently at the rocks. A zziiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzz was heard, followed by a massive wet "plop" somewhere out in the pitch darkness next to the dam wall where those giant bass lurked. He waited for what seemed like eternity, then twitched the rod tip and reeled a couple turns.
Gurglegurgle. Pause. Gurgle. Pause. Gurglegurglegurglegurgle. Pause. Gur....
The night stillness was broken by a sound like the proverbial toilet flushing, and the rod was about yanked out of his hand. He set the hook like Bill Dance, and the drag started screaming. He fought and fought the fish, gaining line, then losing it again over and over. This had to be a state record, at least, he thought. He finally got the fish up to the bank, switched on his little headlamp, and reached down to lip-
A twenty-pound carp. It stared at him in the headlamp beam, its rubbery onion-ring lips wrapped firmly around his mail order black muskie-sized jitterbug. Just as he got it unhooked, he heard an engine. It stopped at the corner of the dam, and a spotlight swept down toward him and the point of light cast by his headlamp. He quickly shut the headlamp off, and jumped behind an azalea bush.
About twenty past midnight on a dark, moonless, summer night, a professional trophy carp fisherman quickly slunk through the shadows across the guardrail, busted through a hedge, getting skint all over, and fled to his old truck parked about a quarter mile away on the county road. He threw his rod into the bed, jumped in, and took off like Charlie Daniels leaving the parking lot of the Dew Drop Inn. He never went back.
Blackston
Senior Member
Richmond Hill ga The old red bird creek hunting club was being turned into a neighborhood for them rich folks , land was cleared , roads were made, pumps placed all over to drain and fill low spots ….. We decided one last hog doggin adventure, Turned out 5 cur dogs and “ lost “ everyone ( no gps no beep beep tracking box ) We rode and listened and rode and listened. Every time we got to a pump that was running we turned it off finally we stop and hear one last pump running. We look at each other and say “ didn’t we turn all them pumps off” ….. well we get closer and the dogs are baying what we think is the pump … we get closer and the 5 curs have bayed a whole sounder of pigs ranging from 5lbs to250 lbs !!!!( the pump noise was all of em grunting!!!! )My buddy says what do we do ? I say turn that bulldog loose he noses through the whole group and snags the biggest one !!!! What a night what a great memory!!!!!
September of 1998. My dad and papa and I had a few doves on the home place in a sandy field with a few strips of millet in it. Not enough birds for a sure nuff shoot but enough for the 3 of us. I was 12 at the time. I decided to sit with Papa since there wasn't much action and he was my idol. I think that day we killed 12 birds between us. I sat next to papa the whole shoot for some reason. Can't explain it. When we got up to leave after daddy had walked over, Papa had a tear coming down his cheek. I didn't understand what he was sad about. He later told daddy he knew it was the last time he'd ever dove hunt and he got to do it with his only grandson sitting beside him. I could almost cry now thinking back on it.
