Tell a hunting or fishing story

[Raylander]

The last week of June about 3 or 4 summers ago I decided it’d be a good day to go catch some specks on one of my favorite streams. The hike in follows an old logging cut up and around a ridge and then drops back into the stream above some falls. As I started the hike I noticed quite a few fawn tracks in the trail. Right about the time I got to the knuckle of the ridge I heard brush popping. It sounded like a drunk stumbling through the woods. The area is very steep and there was a boulder the size of a school bus 25 ft uphill. I couldn’t really tell where it was; only that it was above me. I stopped with the hope of catching a glimpse of the critter. It got closer and a pumpkin headed bear emerged from around the boulder. This bear was huge. Probably the largest bear I’ve seen in GA. I hollered at him and started waving my hat in the air. Bear usually take off like a bottle rocket once they spot you. This one refused budge. In fact, he sat down like a dog waiting on a treat. I hollered louder and tried to run him off. What seemed like 3 hours was probably 3 minutes or so. He just sat there on his haunches watching me flail around in waist high brush. I eventually just backed out the way I came in. I don’t know if he was rut crazed, hunting that old cut, or what. That’s the one and only time I’ve had a bear make me feel uneasy in GA. After retreating I realized I’d dropped my hat and I sure as heck wasn’t going back for it. If anybody ever sees a big fat bear wearing a green Glacier NP hat please PM me. I’d like my hat back..

 

[Lukikus2]

My brother and me hooked the same fish at the same time twice. He shot a buck down hill one evening. The buck rolled down the mountain like he was dead, jumped up and ran off. We looked half the night and found nothing. The next morning I shoot a nice eight not far away because we were still looking. He walks up and said “That’s the deer “. It had a perfect rifle hole right thru it’s antlers!

 

[Danuwoa]

This happened yesterday morning and it was a heartbreaker.

A buddy of mine wanted to go and we haven’t turkey hunted together in a while. I called up his first one and so far only turkey. My daddy posted a thread about it here somewhere. I was all for him coming to hunt our place but he wanted to try hunting on his parents’ land. He said his daddy had been hearing them. That was fine but it just makes it harder when you don’t know how a place is laid out. More on that in a minute.

We stood in the dark and listened but never heard anything. I owl hooted a few times and got no response other than an owl lighting in a tree above us and raising Cain.

We got set up and I did a few tree yelps and a fly down cackle and waited. For a long time nothing happened. My buddy finally said he thought he heard one but I hadn’t. In a few minutes I did here it.

Sixty yards or so out in front of us the woods gave way to a cow pasture. That’s where the turkey was. I didn’t think much of it and yelped at him. He gobbled. I yelped again. He gobbled. I shut up and in a minute he was closer and gobbled. And he gobbled. And he gobbled. The woods we were in weren’t too thick to hunt but they were pretty thick. All while the turkey was gobbling I could barely get glimpses of him walking up and down the wood line strutting and gobbling. I thought “He’ll get the picture the hen ain’t coming to him and he will come on in. Patience will get him.” I should have been right. What my buddy didn’t tell me was the woods were bordered by an old fence on the south end and that’s exactly which way the turkey was. A turkey will not cross a fence and it is dang hard to get one to cross water. They’ll do it on their own but you ain’t calling him across it.

This went on for over an hour. Him walking up and down the wood line (fence) and me calling and him gobbling. Finally he gobbled off to the west of where he had been. I figured he was leaving. He walked off in that direction gobbling.

About ten minutes later he gobbled about a hundred and fifty yards behind us and like to have blown the woods down. I looked at my buddy and swung around where my right side was against the big pine I was sitting under. What happened next took maybe thirty seconds and it was one of those things I’ll never forget.

I yelped and he gobbled and I got a glimpse of him headed our way at a dead run. I had to stop myself from laughing. That was one red hot turkey. His head was red as a fire engine and he was running to us. My buddy was leaning back around that way. The turkey had come far enough toward us I couldn’t see around the tree any more. I was looking at my buddy and he was getting his gun to his shoulder. And the. I heard what no turkey hunter wants to hear. “TOCK! TOCK!” Also known as an alarm cluck or alarm putt. It means he has made you out and yo hunt is over. I looked at my buddy and he shrugged.

I swung back around and saw the turkey headed off to the east at a good rate of speed. I yelped and he gobbled. I thought “Maybe I can call him back.” Over the next two hours I tried every trick I know to do just that. I’d call and he’d cut me off gobbling so I’d go silent for a while trying to lure him back. I cut at him and he’s go crazy. I would start off calling with my box and then join myself calling with my mouth, staggering the calls where it sounded like two hens. Nothing worked. He eventually just went off gobbling as he went.

That should have been a dead turkey. I already had the water hot when I saw him coming at a run. I asked my buddy what happened and he said the gobbler went behind a tree, he started getting his gun up, and the turkey still saw him. I’ve had that happen to me and anybody that has spent much time hunting turkeys has too.
I told him when they circle around behind you they’ve got you at a major disadvantage and you’ve got to get around facing him if you can do it without being seen. I told him I didn’t understand why the turkey wouldn’t come straight in to us when he was in that field. He told me about the fence. Dang it boy.

It was an exciting morning. But Insure wish he had killed that turkey. I did everything but lasso him for him. Oh well.

 

[fireman32]

15 years or so ago I was deer hunting my little place and we still had a few quail around. It was late in the evening and I heard something walking toward me. I kneeled down on one knee to steady myself when out came a covey of quail. 9 birds just kept waking towards me. The fun part was one walked between my legs and paused for a second looking up, probably thinking you are one weird looking stump. Anyway, they eased off without much fuss. I was thinking if they decide to bust I’m gonna have to change my drawers.

 

[fireman32]

My old man had never been much of a money spender, even when it would help him.
Long time ago before I’d ever killed a deer we were hunting together. He was sitting at the top of the stand and there’s was another level below it where I sat. Well, out comes a little spike and I hear pops fumbling around and that Ol 30-40 krag clicks. More fumbling, click, then a third click. Me just sitting there with a 30 carbine watching the deer. The deer finally leaves and pops hollers, why didn’t you shoot! Not sure why I didn’t but to be fair I was only 7 years old.
We inspected his bullets and they all had a little green corrosion on them. Guys at camp gave him some kind of grief about being to cheap to buy new bullets.

 

[sprewett]

When I was a kid my grandpa would take me to the spillway where lake Acworth spills into lake allatoona. We would fish for crappie. I was young and would always leave my pole unattended and my grandpa would warn me about a fish pulling it in. Sure as the world I looked over and saw my brand new 1985 Zebco 33 making its way down into the lake! I ran over but on the rip rap I wasn't fast enough. It was gone. Around the same time I noticed a guy about 75 yards on the other side of the spillway fighting a fish like crazy. I sat there in envy thinking it could have been me if I would have just listened. After about a 15 minute fight the guy pulls up my rod and reel. He fought it all the way across the channel and it stayed hooked together. I walked over the bridge and got my pole and was grateful.
Another was about the same time in my life. I was hunting with my dad in Talbot county. We were hunting a swamp bottom on a dead fall tree. I got so sleepy I couldn't hold my eyes open. There was a huge pile of heavy grass in front of us. My dad told me lay down but to get close enough to his boot he could nudge me if something came up. I am not sure how long I was asleep but I felt the nudge and opened my eyes without moving and literally right over the top of me looking me in the face was a small fawn! The doe stayed off aways but the fawn never scared just looked me face to face. I will never forget it.

 

[fireman32]

Pops used to let me drive down the woods roads before I was old enough to get a license. One day he got particularly aggravated that I was keeping his side to close to the woods. Limbs kept slapping him through the window and such. He finally got mad enough to make me get out and he started driving. I decided to get in his friends truck that had been following us, figured it was best to give pops some space for awhile. Well pops took off and decided to back into the little parking spot in the woods so he wouldn’t have to back up in the dark. With the tailgate down and still driving while just a bit irritated, he rammed a pine tree destroying the tail gate. I was smart enough to not say a word, but his buddy gave him a fit.

 

[Throwback]

Back in the mid 90’s I worked for the police department. At the time we had some great fishing in the ponds on the farm. They are basically an acre or less each and built for erosion control. Several of my coworkers came and caught fish and had a great time.
Jack was one of those, and he was and is a very close friend of mine. He would come pretty regular, even though he lived about an hour away. We had a female coworker that wanted to come fish, but didn’t want to come alone and didn’t know how to get there (this was pre phone map)
So she (Kay) and Jack came together one weekday early.
They stopped by the house and we chatted, I can’t remember if I was going down later to fish or if I had hay field work to do, but I stayed at the house while they went to the pond.
They hadn’t been down there as long as it has taken me to type this all out and suddenly I heard Kay SCREAMING at the top of her lungs and jack yelling something to her.
I looked across the pasture and Kay was standing there holding a STUD largemouth. I got in the truck and went to the pond. That fish was 9 pounds easy and probably pushed past 10. I mean a HUGE fish especially for this small pond.
Kay was as excited as she could be. I think it was her first couple of casts she caught this beast

Then I noticed jack. He’s a black guy but he was white. He looked heartbroken. He had fished this place for a year or two and never caught one anywhere close to this big, and here was Kay just basically waking to the lake and picking up a bass of a lifetime. Jack was happy for her but you could tell for several weeks after that if you mentioned that fish he would just hang his head and shake it saying “man…I can’t believe that”


That’s the biggest bass we have ever had caught off our ponds to date.

 

[hawkeye123]

Lost my dad in Dec of 2008, did not feel like killing anything for a min. Decided to get some woods therapy between Christmas & New Years. Headed out to hunt at my buddy's place in Pike co. Cold Dec pm about prime time around 1730 got that feeling I was bout to see something, had pretty much made up my mind anything other than a 140+ buck was gonna walk. Sure enough heard walking real quiet through the leaves a pretty bobcat at 20 yards. We were the Bobcats in Middle School and I've always liked seeing them , so that was cool but what happened next got my hair on back of neck standing up and gave me the tingles! Bobcat had just eased of when I heard a very loud flapping of wings and a huge red tailed hawk lit on branch of tree I was in at eye level. 10 ft from me, closet I have ever had one , just about could touch with my .270 barrel. Our last name has hawk in it and my whole life my dad would tell me seeing hawks was a good sign , and he had told me a story when he and my mom were struggling God sent him a sign and he saw a hawk near downtown Atl! My dad turned gray at a young age almost covered in gray bout 45, so his nickname was Gray Hawk. Well when this big ole hawk flew off I saw silver or gray feathers on his back! an old gray hawk! I lifted up a prayer to God and gave him my wholehearted thanks! I took it that He was telling me it was ok, Gray Hawk was fine and with his Father now, bout best hunt I've ever had and didnt see a deer!

 

[slow motion]

Took awhile to read through all those. Thanks to everybody posting and of course @Danuwoa for starting this. Got too into it to hit the like button. I'll correct that in a bit. Might have a story or 2 to tell though undoubtedly not as good as what has already been posted here.

 

[Danuwoa]

Lost my dad in Dec of 2008, did not feel like killing anything for a min. Decided to get some woods therapy between Christmas & New Years. Headed out to hunt at my buddy's place in Pike co. Cold Dec pm about prime time around 1730 got that feeling I was bout to see something, had pretty much made up my mind anything other than a 140+ buck was gonna walk. Sure enough heard walking real quiet through the leaves a pretty bobcat at 20 yards. We were the Bobcats in Middle School and I've always liked seeing them , so that was cool but what happened next got my hair on back of neck standing up and gave me the tingles! Bobcat had just eased of when I heard a very loud flapping of wings and a huge red tailed hawk lit on branch of tree I was in at eye level. 10 ft from me, closet I have ever had one , just about could touch with my .270 barrel. Our last name has hawk in it and my whole life my dad would tell me seeing hawks was a good sign , and he had told me a story when he and my mom were struggling God sent him a sign and he saw a hawk near downtown Atl! My dad turned gray at a young age almost covered in gray bout 45, so his nickname was Gray Hawk. Well when this big ole hawk flew off I saw silver or gray feathers on his back! an old gray hawk! I lifted up a prayer to God and gave him my wholehearted thanks! I took it that He was telling me it was ok, Gray Hawk was fine and with his Father now, bout best hunt I've ever had and didnt see a deer!

That’s awesome.

 

[slow motion]

I may have told the story before but here goes . Late December 2013. Hunted the morning looking for a late season buck. Like a lot of my hunts I'm playing cowboy, carrying my Marlin chambered in .35 Remington. Far end of the property on the edge of a creek bottom. Saw a couple does but no buck. Around midday I started walking out. Headed back to the truck to eat lunch. Was following a game trail that wound its way up the creek. As I entered into a big patch of river cane I heard something coming down the trail toward me in the dry leaves. As it draws closer I hear a grunt. Not a buck but a hog. Now it's really thick but I start catching glimpses of two big black hogs making their way toward me. Somewhere around 15 to 20 yards I get a clear shot. Not the best angle as I said we were both on the same Trail but it was just before a curve and I had a quartering to me shot. Boom. As I'm working the lever and racking another shell in the chamber the lead hog just before disappearing into the cane lets out a REEEAAAAT, that's the best way I can describe it. If you've been around hogs much you've heard the sound. Sometimes when they are hurt, distressed, but sometimes there getting p&%$#@ off. Growing up my folks raised quite a few hogs. Taking em to market you aimed for a weight around 200 pounds. You got the best price in a slot weight and it seems it was 180-220 but its been a lot of years now. We had to guess as we didn't have a scale but you get pretty good at it. I mention this because these two were what we called market size. Now they wouldn't have weighed quite that much because there's no row crops in that area so by the time a hog gets that size they're older and of course they're leaner. Still I'd say 170 or so. Now I'm no expert on wild hogs but most of the ones I've seen are probably less than 100 pounds. Okay back to the hunt. Within seconds of the shot everything is silent. Not the best angle on the shot and it was quick so he might be down or he might be up and mad. And where is hog number 2 . Coming down the trail they could have been twins . A hog that comes up to your thigh on a dead run will knock you off your feet . And laying under a mad hog ain't somewhere you want to be . I start easing forward. One step. Stop. Look in all directions try to peer over the cane looking for any kind of movement. Another step. I make it to where the hog was when I shot and there's blood. That's a good sign. Or is it? Tho the woods were silent I couldn't have heard it anyway as the beating of my heart in my ears was deafening. Another step. More blood. It occurred to me that this, while not quite like tracking a wounded lion or leopard, must have been similar to how they felt in those Capstick books I like. I instantly started grinning. After a few more steps there lay the boar. No idea where the other one went. But this one was down and really didn't go far at all even though it seemed like I tracked him forever. I made some fine sausage out of that pig and while I was thankful for the meat the excitement of the hunt meant way more. You're never quite as alive as you are in those moments. That was the last wild hog I've seen as a lot of people have started trapping and apparently have been successful. I know a lot of people despise feral hogs. For me they're more of an oddity as this particular property that I hunt is the only place I've ever had them. Kind of enjoyed hunting them while I had them. But I understand they're not part of the natural ecosystem.

 

[ugajay]

One of the first hunts I ever went on with my daddy I was around 5 or 6. He worked with a man who gave him permission to hunt some land off the fall line between sandersville and milledgeville. So anyone familiar with the area knows it's close to the chalk plants and trains run through the area. I grew up in the middle of nowhere and honestly hadn't heard many trains in my life. So we're up in this big tower stand with no roof on it, and I keep hearing this horn sound off in the distance. It's probably 7 or 8 in the morning and there's about 5 deer in this overgrown hayfield. I ask daddy what that sound is. He's probably not even paying the train horn any attention and asks what sound I'm talking about. So I gather up as much air as I can and proceed to make the sound of a train horn as best I can. Deer commence to clearing the property for I know a good half mile. Daddy goes to laughing and tells me it's a train horn and just shaking his head. Well, I then new what that sound was. Don't know why but we didn't see anymore deer that morning

 

[huntfish]

Here's one from my childhood in Alaska. Brother, dad and I were fishing Willow Creek for Silvers and nobody on the river was catching anything. Dad hooks up and fish moves downstream. While dad is fighting that fish, my brother then hooks up. So now I'm designated net man. As they are bringing the fish in, I notice that it appears the fish are staying together. Soon it's time to net the fish and it's the same fish and both are hooked in the mouth! Seems while dad was fighting the fish, it also decided to hit my brothers lure.

So while no one is catching anything, my brother and dad apparently caught the only salmon that day that was going to bite.

 

[BeerThirty]

Another story I remember was from when I was a kid, about 9 or 10 as I was learning how to hunt. We didn't hunt like this often, but every once in a while my dad just liked to slowly "stalk" hunt through a piece of woods. Couple of slow steps then just stop still for a few minutes, rinse and repeat. Anyway, I was following behind him about 20 feet and I was unarmed (since hunting age was 12 at that time). As we were making our way, there were a couple of relatively close shots, maybe about within 300 yards or so. My dad put his hand up and made a closed-fist, telling me to stop. He motioned his hands to his lips and gave me the "hush" sign, then pointed the direction the shots came from and told me to watch. We stood still about 10 minutes. All of sudden 3 doe came trotting about 50 yards in front of my dad. He whistled sharply to stop them, dropped one. The other two just stood there looking around, and he dropped the second one. Third one stood there, too and BAM, 3 dead deer. It was my dad's only triple. But the cool thing about it was that he did it using an old British .303. And it was the coolest thing ever for me just to watch him so surgically operate that old rifle and drop those 3 deer as fast as he did. I gained a lot of respect for .303s that day and, ever since, I kinda wish other manufacturers would make a spring-loaded bolt like that.

 

[sprewett]

This has been one fun thread!
I guess around 92 I would have been 12 and it was around the time of my very first gun hunt alone. I had spent a huge amount of time in the woods with my step dad which came into my life at 7. He taught me how to hunt and a love for the woods. I had finished my hunter safety course and it was time to go to the woods with my trusty Marlin 30-30. Van (step dad) dropped me off on the way to his stand I was on the ground near the edge of a pine thicket and oaks. He told me He would be about 300 yards that way through the woods while pointing. Wasn't long after I had sat down and what seemed like 7,000 coyotes fired up. They were close and in a 12 year olds mind they were after me. So I got up began the walk to Van. He told me he heard the woods shaking and thought a monster was coming only to see me pop out. He asked what I was doing I said running from coyotes then he reminded me I had a gun. Well, that hunt was over we went back to camp an ate breakfast.

 

[bullgator]

1992. It was my 4th year going to my aunt/uncles farm in Jackson Co. and hunting with my cousin. This year was different because I was bringing a friend with me. Well, it‘s Monday and I had the day off to rest up. My buddy had an evening class at college and we wouldn’t be hitting the road until 10pm or so. Because of the excitement, I didn’t get much rest. About 5am we get to within an hour of the farm but neither of us could stay awake. We pull over on the side of the road probably somewhere near Mansfield or Social Circle and both just hit a deep drooling sleep. About 7:30, I wake up to the sun hitting the windshield over the steering wheel in front of me. At that point I realized we were parked at the end of someone’s driveway……… oops.
We make it to the farm and meet up with my cousin. He didn’t cut us any slack and we headed out to finish a morning hunt. From there we grabbed a quick lunch and then my cousin said he had a surprise. He had gotten permission to hunt a property in Madison Co. his friend ran a club on. Its maybe 30 minutes away and we are in the woods by 2:30 or so. That afternoon was pretty uneventful except for the fact I was fading fast. By the time we headed back to the family farm I had been up about 36 hours with only that 2.5 hour nap in the Jeep Cherokee. I went inside starting to feel sick and excused myself from dinner, took a shower, and hit the bed.
The next morning it took my cousin and my friend to get me out of bed. We were heading back to the club property and I was still whipped. There’s a power line or waterline or something that run through the property. I knew I didn’t want to get up in a tree stand so I got my buddy to the one I was going to hunt and said I’d go down the power line little further and duck into the woods. As expected, I find a pine tree and sit up against it about 40 yards off the power line. It was dark and I had no idea what it looked like around me. It didn’t matter, in no time I was on the ground with only my head against the tree in a full blown snoring episode.
Not long after daybreak I’m jolted out of my peaceful rest by, not one, but two 6 pointers blowing and running away. I’m up on one knee knowing I had probably missed a chance at a rack Buck (biggest before that was a 4pt.). As I’m cussing myself looking in the direction they ran off, I see a big rack moving left to right about 40 yards away. I got a couple of glimpses of him just cruising as I got ready to find an opening. Here’s the funny part. At this point I actually looked at the base of the pine tree just to make sure I wasn’t still asleep and dreaming. I could just imagine me firing a shot while laying on that ground. When I decided it was real, I pick a spot I thought he would pass by and got ready. In a couple of seconds I saw his front elbow in that narrow window and fired. After shaking in disbelief for a couple of minutes, I went over and found blood. Two minutes later I found him piled up not 20’ from the power line. He was scored at 122 1/8 which made this Florida boy one happy camper. I made the cover (with my cousin) of Woods and Water here in Florida. Oh, and I slept well that night.

 

[huntfish]

Here are 2 stories about the luckiest elk hunter I've ever met. Both occurred a year apart in Colorado while I was in HS. A little back story first. I went to a year-round school, where there were 3 different schedules where you went to school for 4 months, off 2 then repeat. My schedule had me off September and October, so it allowed us to hunt the full season. Back then, you had a 5-day Mule Deer Season (Sat - Weds), hunting closed Th-F, then 2 weeks Elk. We would go up and camp out the whole month in tents.

Story 1. After being in the woods for almost three weeks, Gary decides he's not going to get up early but just take a break and relax. After messing around camp, decides to take a fold out chair, his rifle and book and just walk up the meadow, sit down and read. After a while, he looks up the hill side and notices the trees are moving. Not trees, but a whole herd of elk. Having a cow tag, he picks out one and pulls the trigger. Elk scatter, except 1. It rolls down the hill and ends up at Gary's feet.

Story 2. This one required that we get DOW involved and I ended up with a bull on my tag. Gary and I met up around noon and decided to go look at some higher meadows. As we are walking, a group of elk get up in front of us. Gary shoots the bull as it steps into a group of trees. The bull then comes out on the other side and Gary shoots again. Bull down. We start dressing out the bull and I go visit the trees for a nature break. When I get to the trees, I spot another dead bull! Seems Gary shot 2 different bulls, 5X5 and 6X6. We contacted DOW and they investigated. Since I also had a tag, they allowed me to tag it.

 

[elfiii]

Back in the mid 80's I had been deer hunting for a few years and invited one of my skydiving buddies to go with me. Since we both had made lots of skydives at the Lagrange airport both of us knew bad weather comes up quick down there.

Since my buddy was a Green Beret I figured he new what he was doing but he shows up with his $6K Italian over/under shotgun as a weapon so already he's off to the wrong start.

This was back in the "early days" of Army/Navy store BDU's and the "permanent stands" we had built were spikes driven into the tree for steps and cantilevered wood stands just about big enough your butt didn't lop off the sides when you sat down but your legs did. The one I put him in was probably 30 feet off the ground but no safety harness, rope, etc. You just had to man up and not fall. We were stupid back then.

I get him settled in with his expensive shotgun and head off to my stand. It's early gun season so it's still pretty warm at 5 pm and I look to the west and here it comes and I could tell it was going to be a big one. There was a line of clouds out in front of it and they were moving fast. I do some quick mental calculus and figure if we get down now we can make it back to camp before the storm hits us.

I get down and hustle it up to go meet him but by the time I get to his tree the storm is on us. The tree tops are doing circles and all kinds of other machinations, lightning is striking all around us and there's my buddy, still in the stand, holding his "lightning rod", his poncho flapping all over the place in the wind and I'm screaming at him to get down out of the tree. Meantime the flapping poncho is distracting him from getting his expensive shotgun on his shoulder with the piece of rope I gave him to use as a sling because he was totally unprepared with respect to gear and a gun.

He finally gets his "stuff" wrapped tight enough to get on the spikes and start coming down the tree but it's spinning, swaying and dead limbs are starting to come down so he's taking it real slow. Meanwhile that poncho is still giving him fits and the storm is on top of us.

All of a sudden his rope sling breaks and that priceless Italian shotgun starts falling end over end and I'm thinking that's the end of that shotgun. It hits the ground barrel first and the barrel buries itself in the dirt about 6 inches and the gun is sitting there sticking up out of the ground. That was the motivation he needed and he skinned down out of that pine in record time.

We were drowned rats when we got back to camp but I couldn't stop laughing at him once it was all over but while it was happening I had visions of that broomstick pine tree snapping off below the stand with him in it because the storm was that bad.

 

[BeerThirty]

Hunting at the family property in Wisconsin. Had about a 1/2 mile walk to the stand on the backside of the property and just using the moonlight. About 100 yards from the stand, I see something cross in front of me. Thinking I might be pushing deer, I stop and wait about 10 minutes to let things settle down. About 30 yards closer, I hear movement on both sides of me as I'm walking. Stop again, things settle down and proceed towards the stand. I'm about 20 yards from the stand and I'm hearing movement again, but decide to hurry up and get in the stand. I climb up and turn on my headlamp to tie off and hang by fanny pack. When look down to pull up the rifle, I catch movement and turn my head to look.

Staring up at me is a pack of 5 wolves!

I saw my first wild wolves during the gun-deer hunting season in WI two years ago. They came through about 50 yards out from my stand in the woods, right before dawn. I had to do a double-take because I had never seen on in the wild before. One was a black wolf another was mixed. From snout to tip of their tail, probably 5-ft long and I'm guessing 100-115 lb. What really amazed me, seeing them for the first time, was how they moved through the woods. They almost moved in such a way that they flowed with the contour of the ground, head down, like they were on a mission. It was like a very fast stalking posture, hard to explain. I knew they were around because we've seen the tracks and heard from surrounding landowners, but kinda cool to finally see them in person