your most memorable hunting experience

[bigchuck83]

Hello not sure if this has been covered but i was just reminiscing about my most treasured hunting moment and was curious to hear stories from others. Me i was 10 years old and out duck hunting with my dad. a group of ducks was coming strait at us and he said here they come, get ready. I can still remember him saying never mind they are too high up when a shot from my single shot H&R topper 20 gauge rang out and dropped a mallard not much more than three feet from him. He was pretty much silent the rest of the day. Those of you have lost your father and hunting partner know how much memories like this mean. I can only hope to help my nephews have such fond memories.

 

[crazyphil]

Bad Bear

There have been a lot of them, but the first one that comes to mind was the bad bear. Many many years ago I was in college in SW Montana. A rancher friend of my Dad had some cattle on Summer range up in the hills. A bear had killed one cow and tore the bag off another. The rancher's wife wouldn't let him go after the bear, so he offered the job to me. A friend of mine wanted to
go along and he had a hound (Mabel) so I took them with me. I parked my Buick in the trees 70 yards from the carcass of the cow
the bear had killed. We waited and slept in the car. Very early I awoke, wiped the vapor from inside the windshield and there was the bear hovering over the carcass eating maggots with both hands. As gently and quietly as possible I opened my door and slid out. My Winchester Model 70 30:06 loaded with 180 Gr. Winchester Silver Tips.
The bear stood up and sniffed the air, then took off like a shot.
Just as he went over a little ridge, maybe 30 more yards away,
I found his rear end in my Weaver K4 and squeezed one off.
My friend and I ran after the bear. Just beyond the ridge the bear was pulling himself along with his front claws. My one shot had paralyzed his lower half. It had hit right under his tail, if you know what I mean.
We finished him off and gutted him out. By the time we got back to the car with him it was daylight. Mabel was still asleep in the back seat. Another friend who was an amateur taxidermist was going to make me a rug for the practice. He ruined it. The rendering plant told me they estimated the bears live weight was around 550 pounds. After seeing those maggots spurt out when my knife went into his belly I never wanted to eat any bear meat.

 

[Double-O-Dave]

I found his rear end in my Weaver K4 and squeezed one off.
My friend and I ran after the bear. Just beyond the ridge the bear was pulling himself along with his front claws. My one shot had paralyzed his lower half. It had hit right under his tail, if you know what I mean.

Ah, you made the famous "Texas heart shot", or as we Texans usually say, the (pick the state of your choice) "Louisiana heart shot" or "Oklahoma heart shot". Great tale.

Regards,

Dave

 

[Double-O-Dave]

When I was younger, I was an avid sportsman. I loved to hunt and fish, but after my time in the Army, I lost all my taste for hunting. Time passed, I married, and we had kids - a daughter and a son. When my son reached 10 years of age, I told him that if he wanted to learn to hunt, I would help him. I repeated this to him every year at his birthday, but of course, he waited 6 more years until he took me up on my offer.

I took him on a youth deer hunt sponsored by the Texas Youth Hunting Program (TYHP) for his first deer hunt. Prior to the hunt, I told him that while I had never killed a deer, every book I had ever read on hunting, whether by Taylor, Bell, Corbett, Capstick, etc., they had all said the shoulder shot was the "meat shot". All of them advocated the shoulder shot for quickly anchoring, and killing your prey.

At the time, the only rifles I owned were a M-1 carbine, an AR-15, and a Marlin 1894 in .357 Magnum. The hunt rules said the minimum caliber was .243, so I figured my little Marlin carbine would be perfect for the task, and my son practiced religiously with it. When we assembled at the ranch for our hunt, the hunt master and staff took one look at the little Marlin and said it wasn't adequate for humanely killing deer. Despite my protest, as well as that of the ranch owner, the hunt master refused to budge from his position.

To his credit though, he offered my son the use of his son's scoped .243 deer rifle to use on the hunt. My son had full confidence in the Marlin, and was a bit leery of a rifle he knew nothing about. The hunt master allowed him to shoot the .243 a couple of times, and kept telling him that the 100 gr. bullets would "blow the deer's heart up".

We were in the blind next morning at 5:30 a.m., and just after daylight, we spotted some fat does no more than 40 to 50 yards away from us. Our guide allowed my son to select and shoot his doe, and I was told that when he fired, the doe jumped, and then ran away. We didn't find any evidence the doe had been hit, and we carefully searched the area for several hours without any luck. The official conclusion was that my son had flat out missed his shot.

I later asked my son where he had aimed, and he told me he had aimed at the doe's heart, rather than her shoulder. When I asked him why he hadn't aimed at the shoulder, he quietly told me he didn't want the doe to suffer - all that talk about the .243 bullet "blowing the deer's heart up" made him think it would tear the doe's shoulder apart, and that it would suffer needlessly before it died. My son was one of the few kids that failed to harvest a deer during the hunt. Afterwards, I asked him where he would aim if he ever had another chance to shoot a deer. He looked me right in the eyes and said "the shoulder, of course".

The good news is that on a subsequent hunt, he killed two does within 30 minutes of each other - both shoulder shots using my new .308 bolt gun. I gave him that rifle last October for his birthday, and I killed my first deer last month with my AR-15. It is amazing how my son has matured and grown as a hunter in such a short amount of time. I treasure our time together, and I hope he will spend time in the woods with his kids one day.

Regards,

Dave

 

[dave holl]

Just like the previous posters, there have been many...........moose, bear, mule deer, caribou,..............but my first squirrel, that is my favorite. the year was 1956 in Cleveland, OH. Dad had traded his K22 for my first shotgun, a 20ga Lefever, which I still have. Dad had permission to hunt a farmer's woods about 40 miles away. The anticipation the night before was almost as exciting as the hunt itself. ................making sure the LL Bean boots were waterproofed, the smells of the old hunting coats, making sure we had enough of those blue Peters shotgun shells, and of course, a packed lunch. Then, the walk in to the woods............and the rest is history. Fond memories.
Dave

 

[Jebus35745]

The club releases 50 pheasants a weekend for the first 3 weeks of November. Been doing this for many moons. Most people leave right after lunch. Last Nov I went back out after eating for only abt 1-2 hours. Getting harder to walk for long periods. I don't have a dog. I headed for a patch of pine trees that had a lot of memories. Its roughly 100 yds by by 200 yds and full of heavy brush for rabbits and stray birds.

Hunted with 3 of the kids yrs ago and we always went to the pines. Last November I spent 2 hrs in there walking slowly, not necessarily looking for something to shoot but would focus on something and remember a moment of a past hunt with them. Had a very satisfying hunt in the pines, didn't see nothing but had a lot of smiles as I went through there sometimes sitting and remembering. I relived their most memorable hunts that we shared. Larry

 

[Gulfecho]

I was 11 years old when my dad and I came upon a 4 point buck 40 yards away while hunting in Montana. My first time at shooting a deer. I shot 6 times with my father's 300 Savage. I missed every time! The deer just stood there as if to say this kid can't shoot. My dad even had time to reload the rifle and test fire it on a tree branch to make sure it was sighted in...the Mule deer just stood there. I think he was laughing. I remember I cried. I felt like such a failure and I let my dad down. He just put his hand on my shoulder and said, "their will by others".

 

[Bill Bates]

I've been hunting for 46 years and I have lots of standout memories. There were great shots made over a perfect point all followed up by a great retrieve. There have been fun moments shared by good friends. I watched the sunset while enjoying a fine whisky and cigar with friends as we laughed about our bad shots and bragged about the good ones. With all that it is still an easy choice for me. My most memorable hunt was last years Youth Spring Turkey hunt with my grandson.

It was his very first hunt. We planned the hunt over Christmas during their visit. I got him setup with camo and gear.

The night before the hunt my son made the long trip down to drop him off at our home. I rolled him out of bed a 4:00 am. Gramma made a good breakfast for us and made some sandwiches for us to take for lunch. We headed up a nearby canyon and hiked into the area I had scouted well before dawn. When I got to the area I hoped still held birds I did a couple of crow calls to check if old Tom was still around. We got our answer immediately as some Toms googled on their roosts. I sat the decoys and we got comfortable in the brush at the edge of our opening.

We sat in the dark and waited for the birds to come off the their roosts. The turkeys came off the roast at about 6:30 AM. I got on my box call and we had three Toms answer.

One thing I have learned turkey hunting is staying off the call. We waited and listen as two Toms continued to call and head our direction. I gave another couple of yelps hoping to seal the deal. Then we had a turn of luck that happens often hunting public ground. A father and his teenage sons had heard our Toms and me and headed through the brush towards us. The Toms went quiet. When the three nimrods busted int our opening they spotted the decoys. Dad softly apologized and they backed out and headed back off the hill.

I gave it a bit of time and tried the call again. One Tom answered. I gave hime another yelp and he gobbled again. I could tell he was coming and coming fast. I whispered to my grandson to be ready. I could see him shaking. I few minutes later the tom ran into far end of our opening and peeled off into the brush. I thought we were made and busted. I gave some purrs and clucks and he answered but he was staying put. Again I fought the urge to call. I gave that bird a good half hour to settle down.

Then I got on the box call again and he answered. A few seconds later we had a second Tom gobble from up the hill. For the next 20 minuted we listen to those birds google back and forth. One we could tell was headed down the ridge towards us. They other was moving back and forth but not getting closer.

Then for the second time we had hunter coming up the trail. A teenager and his young brother were coming up the trail behind us. They got to the edge of our setup and were ready to walk out through my decoys when I hissed for them to stop. They did and crawled over to our setup. They said they had seen the big Tom coming down the ridge and were hoping to head him off. I whispered they had better damn well stay put. We had to birds coming in and if we were lucky we might be able to take both birds.

They moved about 5 yards to our left. Older brother got out his cell phone and started playing games as his younger bothered sat and wiggled trying to get comfortable.

I gave some soft calls and both Toms answered. They were still coming. Again I told young William to get ready. Again I could see him shaking as he sat with his elbows on his knees. The Toms were vocal and oh so close. I understood my grandson nervousness...turkey fever.

The opening we had setup in was an area where these birds had been strutting the last few weeks. It was about 20 or 30 yards wide and maybe 70 yards long and snapped a bit like a pretty girl with a trim waist narrowing in the middle of the opening about 25 yards from where we sat. I had the decoys set near the edge of that narrowing.

We had been sitting there when a young Jake walked in from the left just beyond that narrowing. He was headed right for the decoys. William was ready. Our two interlopers were paying no attention and hadn't seen the young Jake come in. I made a decision and tapped William on the shoulder to take the shot. The Browning Maxum roared and Jake dropped.

The two kids about jumped out of their skin. The older asked if we saw a turkey. I said we killed a turkey about then the other Tom flushed and flew over our heads. Dumb and dumber sat their and watched him go. I figured I might come get him when the general season opened a few days later ( and yes I did)

I slapped William on the shoulder and just loved the look of disbelief on his face. I told him we need to go get his bird and take some photos. As we walked I asked if the Maxus kicked, it had 3 1/2 in 2 oz loads in it. He said he didn't notice it kick. Any way the four of us went over and inspected William's Jake. It was the perfect bird for a first timer. It will be a bird he always remembers and give him something to work for, a big Tom.

Yes, it was my most memorable hunt and will be his. We're now planning this years hunt. He is hooked.

 

[Frank237]

Any hunt that goes well, and I kill my game cleanly and quickly is a success in my book. Hunting with a friend or loved one also adds to the experience.

I have helped several hunters harvest their first elk and those have been very memorable. Took a Fed who I met at a FLETC school out hunting many years back. He was an avid hunter and fisherman but only in the south. He had never hunted the West. He and I hit it off at the Course and invited him out for a hunt. He luckily drew a tag the next year. We had cold weather and snow which was very foreign for him.
Second day of the hunt the weather moderated and the wind died to nothing. We found a small herd of elk and Ed cleanly killed a nice bull at 200 yds down a shallow draw, near a ROAD. The situation was about ideal.

We walked down to the elk and he had to utter: "Oh! My! God!" At least ten times. He had never seen a mature bull on the ground and was amazed at the size. I guess Georgia deer are on the small side?

He and I may speak annually now, he's busy with teaching at FLETC and travels quite a bit too. The conversation always comes around to that hunt. How he often looks at the antlers on his wall, the photos and reminisces about what a great time it was.

Helping to give a sportsman lifelong memories like that. That's satisfying which I guess means memorable as well.

Here's my most memorable hunt...a 150" whitetail I killed despite several botched stalks across a large open field during a several day period where others were aware of him and trying to do the same thing I was doing. Finally it all came together and I killed him with a single shot from my lt wt .280 Rem at 300 yds.



Haven't hunted in several years now. I think I've killed enough game, let the young guys do it now.

FN in MT

 

[S&W ucla]

Elk hunting in northern New Mexico last fall. Beautiful meadow, large stream with trout, bugling bulls. Saw 8 mature bulls and probably 100 cows in one herd. Never could get a shot that evening, but I will never forget the sights and sounds. I told my guide if I never saw another elk I had a wonderful hunt because of that evening. Two days later got a nice 6x6 in the same area.

 

[crazyphil]

Once while hunting in Montana, years ago, I came across the carcass of a big buck. Someone had cut off the head with the antlers and left the rest there to rot. There is a special place for guys who would do that. Because of idiots and other scary things I thought about quitting. I was telling an old buddy of mine that I was stalking up a draw where I saw some deer.
Some road hunters down below me started shooting right over me.
Way out of range for them. I asked my old buddy if he had ever hear bullets zinging over his head. He said yep at Anzio. I also lost the desire to kill those beautiful creatures and gave my long guns away 16 years ago. I only watch out for the 2 legged critters now.

 

[pawngal]

OK. I can get in on this. First time deer hunting, Iowa law shotgun slug only. Mind you I had NEVER shot a shotgun before, only handguns and .22 rifles. And I was no spring chick, mid 50's. Hubby told the other guys, she's a good shot, put her where she has a chance. 12 ga. Winchester pump with 3 inch slugs, 30 minutes after the season opened, nice big doe comes out of the switchgrass, Boom! doe down, then come 2 more, missed with the second shot, 3rd shot, another one down. It took me awhile to realize what I had actually done. The guys ribbed me a bit about hitting the 2nd one in the "wrong end" but I certainly earned their respect. We hunted together for over 10 years but that morning lives in everyone's memory.

 

[BigBill]

Just being in the green mountains of Vermont where my family has hunted for decades, walking on the same ground. Just being out there as they were. I think I was born 200 years too late.

Hunting bear.

On opening day for deer season. Me and my older brother did everything wrong we could possibly do. The night before we were drinking fresh apple cider and spring water. First we over slept. We hit the logging road at 8:00am. We were three hours late in hitting the stands.
I could hear something walking with us to the right side. Branches were breaking. We had apple orchards in the woods a tad deeper.
My brother turns and says a bear as he always does. Every black stump in the shadows is a bear he's ribbing me. This time it's a bear really. We argued who's going to harvest it. I said you seen it first. He says its your camp. So he harvested it. At 8:05 we shot the bear. My two neighbors kids were up on the ridge listening to us the whole time. They were out of sight. My older brother passed on soon after that was 20 years ago I lost my mentor.

We did everything wrong. We talked while going down the trail. Late getting out. I'll never forget it. Bear season overlaps five days of deer season.

 

[Jinglebob]

My most memorable is not a story about getting the big one but about losing a couple of good ones. Back in 1971 I was deer hunting in west Texas. On the way home, drizzle and sleet was coming down. The road was straight as an arrow to the horizon. A lone car coming from the opposite direction skidded across the highway and struck me broadside.

The impact flipped my Jeep into a ravine. I was not hurt but my rifle, a Remington 788 chambered in 7mm/08, was smashed. The stock was broken in two and splintered and the barrel was bent at a 45-degree angle. Amazingly, the scope was undamaged. The deer, taken with the rifle early that morning, was half way down the ravine.

The guy who hit me had a gash on his forehead. I got the aid kit I carried in my Jeep and bandaged his wound. It was freezing out, there were no other drivers on the road and no cell phones back then. About the time I had decided to walk to the nearest town, Fort Stockton some eight miles away, a rancher in a pickup came along. The old boy drove us into town.

It was hours later before the police and the wrecker finished up. The tow truck driver let me put the deer on his truck. I called my brother who drove the 60 miles from Pecos to pick me up. It was getting late in the afternoon and the roads were slick. We put the deer and smashed rifle in his GMC and made it home ok.

That day I lost a good Jeep, totaled, and a very accurate shooting rifle. The only plus was that I still had my deer.

 

[BigBill]

After my brother passed even today at my camp I can still smell his cigarette smoke were 20 years have passed. He's with us.

 

[6518John]

This is another 10 star thread on a 15 star Fourm and we only have 5 stars!

First dove this season with my grandfather's Fox Sterlingworth.

 

[cbore]

Not as dramatic as a deer or bear hunt but years ago squirrel hunting. I took first shot at 6:30 am (always check watch on 1 st shot). I was using a Remington 1100. At 8:30 I was walking out with 17 squirrels- 18 was the limit then. I shot # 18 on a stump with a 22 pistol.

At the truck met my hunting Buddy and he had 2. So I when back and got 4 more all by 9:15 a total of 22. That is my all time memory.

We shares squirrel and gravy several nights thanks to that hunt.

 

[6518John]

First turkey too but with a Browning.

 

[rwsmith]

I've hunted so little......

Every moment is a memory. I loved it for sure, but it wasn't for me.

 

[arjay]

Lots of good memories,especially with my old hunting and fishing partner Paul.The biggest flattest feet and nonstop chatter about the damnedest subjects.Couldnt make a deer hunter out of him,but he was great at jumping rabbits [emoji1]