Ladies and Gentlemen,

As requested by some of our members, and under threat of some nasty accident happening here courtesy of our Master of Disasters, Walter, I have made a few calandars for this year.

And as usual, we are going to give a few to those who tell us an exciting hunting story.

Please post your story on this thread, and all we ask is that it has at least 1% of truth in it. 99% can be used to add some spice, so let your imagination free.

Walter is standing here laughing. He is asking if he can tell us one too.

"No, Walter, thank you for the offer. I will be happy to give you a calndar just to keep you quiet!"

"Typical! Spoil sport"

"OK, you can post a story. I am not sure anyone would make heads or tails from reading it"

"I will write it, and you will repair it. Your English is better than mine."

I will post Walter's story as soon as I get it from him.

Good luck to you all.

Here is the story of my deer hunt from fall 2005:

The hunt started with me leaving for my hunt the day after the moving company dropped off our household goods. They were supposed to have been delivered on the monday but do to some snafu on their end the stuff didnt arrive until friday. My wife was pretty understanding about me taking off with her stuck unpacking boxes, but I still felt bad. Saturday morning I headed up to ID and met my friends Ken and Alan in Pocatello. We drove up to my parents place to pack up the hunting gear then headed back south towards Soda Springs where we would be hunting. It had rained all day friday and saturday but was supposed to clear up over sunday. We stayed the night in a hotel in Pocatello where Kens oldest son Bobby joined up with us. Sunday morning we headed into camp. The roads were slick and greasy from the recent rains. It made the trip on the mountain dirt roads interesting to say the least. We finally arrived and got our camp set up. That night we discussed where we woud each be hunting and got our individual gear ready to go.

At first light on monday we hit the trail and moved off to our spots. I had chosen a favorite basin of mine that has produced some monster bucks in tha past. My friend Johnny took 2 B&C bucks there in the past. I used the 4 wheeler to get me up on the ridgeline and all but the last mile into the basin. I saw several small bucks on the way in but nothing that interested me. I glassed the basin all morning and did see a couple respectable bucks and lots of does and fawns. When we all got back to camp later that day we found out that Alan had shot a forkhorn but nobody else took a shot. We hunted tuesday and wednesday but nobody took another deer. We did see a lot of elk in the area, including a super 6x6 that watered at the creek 20 yards from camp. But this trip was more about us friends geting back together for the 1st time in 10 years. It was all worth it. The guys took off wednesday at lunch.

Later that afternoon Chic Worthing (Customstox) and Forrest Bruch (ForrestB) arrived.We hunted that evening and hard all day thursday. Forrest did make a stalk on a buck thursday evening but the winds didnt cooperate and the deer moved off before he could get into range.

Friday morning we tried hunting some higher ground. Chic had a monster jump up in front of him but it made it into the timber before he could get a shot. He saw a couple more super bucks that day but they were a long ways off and heading out.

Chic, Forrest and I decided to try hunting different areas friday evening. I wanted to ride 3/4 of the way into a basin I wanted to glass and they wanted to go check out another area where Chic had seen the big bucks and a huge bull moose and get some pics. Just before 4pm we headed out. I was most of the way in to the place where I wanted to park the 4 wheeler and hike the last mile in. As I was idling down a hill into a saddle the back end slid around and since the 4 wheeler was now sideways it commenced to roll. It rolled sideways a hundred feet or so and I was only underneath it for 1 roll. It stopped rolling on its side. Since the pain hadnt set in yet I was able to get to the 4 wheeler back on all 4 wheels by pushing it over. (thats when I noticed I had really torn the knee up) By some act of fate a roll of duct tape had fallen out of the tool box. I used that to stabilize the joint as best I could. I used about half the roll doing that. My Kimber 308 also broke completely (that hurt more than the leg) into a few pieces so I taped it back together so I could at least signal for help with it. I knew if I was going to get found the quickest I would have to help myself as much as I could. I pulled my CamelBak off of the 4 wheeler rack and put it on. Then using the rifle as a brace I slid on my backside up the trail to the top of the hill. My goal was to get to high ground where it would be easy to see me. After I managed to get to the top I realised I needed to get even closer to the main camp so I kept sliding. I went up the first hill, down the front side and up to the top of the next one. All total I scooted about 500 yards and it took me around 4 hours. It was pretty painful and slow going. When I got to the top I was luckily surrounded by a bunch of dead sagebrush. I pulled a nice big pile together for my firewood. I got the fire started and prepared to wait it out. I had been firing shots every 30 minutes or so and was hoping somebody would hear them. When I got down to 4 rounds left I decided to wait until well after dark so that anyone hearing the shots would realise something was wrong. Forrest and Chic made it back to camp around 930pm and realised I wasnt back yet. They werent worried yet but when the heard a shot fired from the direction of where I was going to be hunting the realised something was wrong and came looking for me. They knew where I would be hunting and were able to come right to me. I was REALLY glad to see Forrst coming up the hill on the other 4 wheeler. At around 11 I was off the mountain and headed towards town. It was about 230 when we got to the ER in Soda Springs. My sister lived there and it was in the path heading to Salt Lake where my family was so we went there instead of going to Afton, WY which was a lot closer. They took the X-rays and told me I had a plateau fracture of the right tibia and had torn the tendons and ligaments in the knee very bad. Arrangement were made to get me down to SLC, UT and see the the surgeon. They placed me in an immobilizer and crutches for 6 weeks. And another 6 weeks on the crutches after the immobilizer was removed.

Even though I didnt get a deer I did see a lot of deer and elk. I just never could get into a shooting situation on a big buck, but they were there. I did have a very nice 4x4 walk within 30 yards of me while I was scooting up the hill after the roll over. It was tempting, but I had other priorities on my mind at the time.

Being laid up for 3 months did have a dramatic effect on my military duties though. I was supposed to report to Ft Hood, TX and then catch up to my new unit in Iraq. But due to the injuries, in late DEC the Army changed my orders and reassigned me to Ft Carson, CO. Which is a pretty darn nice place to be assigned.

Kimber was kind enough really take care of me on getting the rifle repaired. Being able to use it for signal shots meant the difference between spending the night on the mountain in 20 degree temps and getting to the hospital. And Leupold replaced the scope under warranty.

It was a character building experience to say the least. But it also gave me the opportunity to spend some quality time with my family. And I also learned to appreciate just how good of friends I have. It takes a good friend to come and drag you off of the mountain in the middle of the night.

Here are some pics from the hunt:

The area we were hunting.


Another of the hunt area.


Forrest catching a snooze.


And me in the ER, with as much pain killer as I had taken you would be smiling too. Plus I was just darn glad to be off of the mountain. (photo courtesy Forrest, his origional intent was to use the photo as blackmail)

Here is Walter's story.

I have been going hunting with Saeed for many years, and last year he and Roy threatened to do nasty things to me if I did not shoot a buffalo or a crocodile.

I have no wish to shoot a buffalo. Buffalo are very nasty animals, and they are always hiding in very thick, long grass. And I have to use Saeed’s rifle too, as he won’t let me take my Blaser hunting any more.

I decided to shoot a crocodile, because at least I won’t have to walk for hours not seeing 2 meters in front of me.

Next they said I have to shoot a bait for the crocodile. My friend Nelson already has a kojonis in the truck, so I asked him if I can use it for bait for my croc. He said “seâ€, as he can only speak Spanish. But, both Roy and Saeed shouted “NO! You have to shoot your own bait!†Why I have to do that is impossible for me to understand. They said the hunter has to shoot his own bait for the dangerous game he wants to shoot.

I told them I never thought crocodiles were dangerous to hunt. One sits on dry land, and as soon as the croc pops his head you shoot it. I have seen Saeed do it many times, and I can assure you there was no danger involved at all.

Buffallo hunting, THAT is dangerous!

So now I have to go shoot a bait. They said I could shoot anything we see. Zebra, kojoni or pig.

In the afternoon we saw a warthog. Roy said it was HUGE! We stopped the truck, and hid behind some trees and ant heaps and got closer to the pig. We got as close as we could, as there was now open ground between us the feeding pig. Saeed, as usual, said “aim in the middle and shoot him!â€

I knew he wanted to laugh at me when I miss. The HUGE pig looked so TINY when I looked through the scope. He looked like 400 meters away! I aimed about 10 inches above his shoulder and fired!

“You MISSED him!†said Roy. “You shot OVER him!â€
“I aimed over him because he was so FAR away!â€
“You should never have aimed ABOVE him! He was not even 200 yards away!â€

“Here Walter, give me the rifle. I think you better let me shoot your bait on your behalf, before Roy strangles you with his bare hands!â€

I gave Saeed the rifle, and we went back to the truck.

We drove a little bit, and I could see Saeed and Roy whisper to each other. The truck stopped, and both got out of the truck, walked half bent over 20 yards to a dead tree. Saeed rested the rifle on the tree and fired.

He looked back, and shouted “Come Walter, we got you a bait!â€

I jumped out of the truck, and went to have a look.

What I saw was amazing! 20 yards from the dead tree was a dead warthog! I said “Roy, why do I have to shoot my pigs so far away, while Saeed almost rests the barrel on them before he shoots?â€

“Walter, by the time you got out of the truck, and loaded the rifle, walked these 20 yards, the pig would have gotten to the next concession!â€

Well, I thought that is it. The croc is as good as dead now. And while the trackers were loading the pig into the truck, Saeed asked me “How far do you think you can hit a croc in the brain?â€

“As close as possible! I don’t want any of those 200 meter shots. You know how I like to hunt. Kojonis should be no more than 80 meters. Zebra 100 meters maximum, pigs 50 meters and crocs should be no more than 10 meters!

Next morning very early, we loaded the pig and went to the river. We stopped the truck behind some trees, and went to have a look. There were millions of crocs. Of all sizes. But they were so far away.

The trackers dragged the pig to the water’s edge, and Roy and Saeed walked in the water to some rocks jutting out in the water. The trackers followed them with the pig, and they tied it to the rocks. I walked to them to see how to bait a croc.

“Walter, take your clothes off, and come here†said Saeed
“Why do I have to take my clothes off?â€
“Because you have to sit here by your bait, and as soon as a large croc sticks his head out to take a bite out of this pig, shoot him in the brainâ€

“Hang on a minute! Where am I supposed to sit?â€
“Right here behind this rock. You have to keep only your head out of the water, and as the crocs will come from the other side, you will hear them tearing the flesh from the pig. We will wait out there in the trees, and come as soon as you kill your crocâ€

“But, there is water all around me. What happens if some crocs come from behind me?â€
“Don’t worry, they won’t. Crocs follow the moon cycle. Your back is to the western side of the river, and this time of the month crocs follow the eastern side. In about 6 days time they will start hunting on this side, so until then you have nothing to worry about. Well, at least I hope you can manage to kill your croc within the next 6 days anywayâ€

“You two are bloody crazy! You must be stark raving MAD to imagine me sitting in the water of a river with half a million crocs, and a dead pig within an arms reach of me! Do you really think I am that STUPID?â€

“Walter, calm down, we just want to make sure you hit the bloody croc. And you said it yourself, you have to be within 10 meters to be able to do that. Of course, you can always leave the croc for me to shoot, and you can shoot a buffaloâ€

“Are you going to sit here in the river until the croc comes to eat the pig?â€
“No, I don’t have to do that. I will sit there behind those trees, and when the croc comes, I will kill him from thereâ€

“Why can’t I do that?â€
“You can, we have no problem with you doing that. Come let us go and hide behind those treesâ€

We all walked back to the trees. And I looked back at the bait. I COULD NOT EVEN SEE the pig! Let alone be able to shoot a croc in the head at that distance!

It was all a conspiracy between Roy and Saeed. They wanted to make sure I shoot a buffalo!

I will tell you that story another time!

Saeed,
On my hunt with John Sharp (June/July 05), we had already put in the salt a very nice buffalo, super Leopard (180-lbs), Zebra and Steenbock. We were still trying to get a big Kudu. After 5 stalks behind us on this elusive animal (without a shot) we were tracking a small group with one large male. It started early, we followed the herd, up and down Kopjes, through valleys and across meadows. Each time we got close they took off. By now I was covered with flea bites from crawling in the grass. The tracker thought we could get ahead of them so we crossed another Kopje, then another one. Now we were in front of them, at a great distance. With a lot of females in the herd I guess the male Kudu was pretty busy, finally John spotted him laying down. He must have been worn out from his business. I could not see him, John said to look at a large tree with no branches, then to the right where it was dark green, after a while I could barely see his head and horns when he moved. John said if I could make the shot, it would be the shot of my life. Distance at over 300 yards. He said he would whistle to get the Kudu to stand up, took three times before the Kudu heard the noise and stood up. Using sticks already set I squeezed the trigger and down he went. Down the mountain we went, finally we we got to the Kudu, it was bigger than we thought, 61" on one side 59 1/2 on the other. I could not believe my luck. This past year it was in a short story in African Sporting Gazette. My 1st African adventure has changed me forever, working on saving to go back.
bobga

In '04 I was hunting on George Brown's ranch, part of the Bubiana Conservancy in Zimbabwe, plains species. Had shot a nice bunch of critters up to this point when I screwed the pooch on a klipspringer. Muffed a standing broadside shot at about 50 yards with my 9.3x62, just shaved some hair on the front of it's chest and a few drops of blood. It vanished into a nearby kopje. George, Roger the tracker and his sidekick Moses look at me like I am an idiot ( true dat) and we proceed to crawl around on the kopje looking for the klipspringer. At this point I am feeling absolutely rotten for wounding this animal, incredibly bummed out. After quite a while Roger whistles and we clamber over to a large horizontal crack in the rock. The klippie is way back in the crack and we can hear his labored breathing. We were about 50 yards up at the edge of a drop off. At the bottom of the drop off was a flat area with very short grass, about 100 yards to the base of an adjacent kopje. I had just cranked my scope down to 1.5x when the klippie comes out of the crack like rocket about 5 yards away, scares the crap out of me and goes over the side of the drop off. I can hear him crashing down the side of the kopje as he makes a break for it. I go to the edge of the drop off and see him running straight away from me for the next kopje, the afterburners are lit, he is just a blur of frantic motion. I get a sight picture and squeeze the trigger at about 75 yards. The klippie rolls end over end in a cloud of dust. We all just stand there with our mouths open, absolutlely stunned, me most of all. Roger and Moses start hooting and hollering and George says, " You idiot, you can't hit him standing still and then you make a shot like that." I had hit him square on the "balloon knot". A one in a bazillion shot. You talk about an emotional rollercoaster. Pappy always said better lucky than good. Russ Green.

A friend of mine had problems with bushpig and called me to help him as he is no hunter. I went to his farm to look the situation over and plan how to get the pigs.
It was easy as the pigs actually chased his dogs away from their food.
I desided that shooting them with a rifle will be to easy and not having a bow at the time to take another friend (call him Lawn killer) to shoot the pigs with a bow. Now I planned everything very good. First I had to modify a old house alarm to wake us when the pigs come for their feast, this was not a problem and after only half an hour it was done.
Lights was not a problem as the pigs were feeding under the veranda light on the lawn. Now Lawn killer has bad eyes and decided to install a laser sight on his bow(wich did work). After practising with his new sight he assured me that he was ready for the hunt and off we went. We arrived on the farm and made a fire for a barbique . We set up the alarm and got all the equipment ready. When everything was ready I put the bow target on the lawn next to the dogfood and Lawn killer shot a couple of arrows to make sure everything is fine with his bow.
The fire was ready and we barbiqued our meat and had supper. I had a few beers as I was not going to do any shooting and soon got tired and went to bed.
I woke the next morning with Lawn killer standing waiting for me looking worried. It was still a little dark and overcast with a light drissle.
He told me that he shot a pig about 45 minutes earlier and we desided to try and follow the spoor from where it ran through the fence. I asked him if the shot felt good at wich he said "this pig will not go far", so off we went with me carying my 9mm pistol and him his 44 magnum (bushpigs are nasty when wounded). As we got to the fence I saw the "spoor"(track) and said that I see no blood. He assured me that this was where the pig went through so we started tracking in the soft moist ground. The conditions made tracking easy and we followed the track for over an hour at a staedy pace without ever seeing any blood. After two hours I said that I think we are on the wrong track and I told him I am going back to start tracking from where he shot the bushpig on wich he agreed.
We were almost 2 miles from the house and it took us some time to get back. The farmer was waiting on the veranda with breakfast wich was warm and tasted very good. We went back to where Lawn killer stood when he shot, the dogfood lay on the lawn 19 feet from us.
We walked to where the food was and started looking for blood only to find the arrow two feet in front of the spilled food in the now very "dead"grass.
So Lawn killer went home with a trophy lawn and no pig.
I did go back and shot four pigs on the farm with my rifle wich is another story.

k...its not an african story but red deer hinds are just like kudu hinds so just imagine kudu hind and here we go:

We were on cull hunt after some non trophy red deer late in december. A fellow hunter managed to shoot a calf but bullet went through and hit the hind in her back leg. After 3 hours I came with a dog and start with tracking. Dog was catching up with trail nicely and after 1 mile we came to the big valley with thick bush where I heard the hind that took off immediately when she scent us. I followed the trail to the litter just to persuade myself that it is the right animal that was there. I found some blood on the litter so I let the dog loose and wait. Soon I heard the flowing barking of the dog that caught up with the hind and the chase went on across the valley, uphill and across the ridge some half a mile away, then all went quiet. So I light up a cigarette and wait. Those are strange moments for every tracker, with tense nerves speculating all the possibilities. After 1 hour I suddenly heard a deep breathing sound and – o joy - the dog returned – but it was all wet, water dribbled of her (it was a bitch) coat. I praised the dog and convince it to show me what took her so long. And off she went, showing me the trail by waiting for me every time we lost visual contact to catch up. So we went just as I heard her before – across the valley and over the ridge. Trail was going straight down the slope through high woods and ended on the lake shore at the bottom of the hill. The lake was there due to hard rains and was approximately 400 yds across. The trail went straight in the water. The dog was standing at that spot looking across the water. Since I didn’t spot anything floating in the lake I decide to go around the lake to find where the hind has left the lake. After a quarter of circumference of the lake I caught a sight of the hind that was just rising from a hazel bush 200 yds away on the opposite slope. I quickly crouched and gave two desperate shots with my iron sighted 7,62 x 54R double just to miss her completely . And off the hind went climbing further more. The bitch already sighted the hind and began to chase her uphill. But at that time the wound was starting to get the animal. So after some 200 yds the sound of barking changed from that high chop up sounded to the low howling kind that is a true “ode of joy†for every dog guide that means that animal has stopped and is willing to fight . By that time a fellow – young hunter catch up with me and showed me the crowd of the villagers across the valley, that came after my shots were fired to observe what has disturbed their peaceful Sunday afternoon. So knowing I have the time on my hand we slowly began to climb up the slope. The hind was hiding and fighting with dog in a small oak bush. I send a friend above the bush to cover the upper side while I would cover the lower side which could be the most possible way the hind may take. Meanwhile the friend has moved in the bush and signaled me that he has spotted the hind and he will try to close in. The next thing I remember was unforgettable site, I have heard a scream and a noise of incoming beast through the bushes, branches opened up and there was a hind in full gallop, with my friend hanging around her neck and dog biting a friend on his leg . One can clearly saw the horror in the beasts eyes. All composition passed me by fathom and crush in the big bush. (Lately friend told me that as soon as hind saw him she immediately came for him, knocking him aside – he lost his gun – but in the heat of the moment grab the animal by her neck trying to stop her ). Friend ended knotted in the branches and a dog got a strong hit from a hind´s rear leg. I quickly found out that friend was not hurt, so I ran out of bush just to see the hind going for the swim once again, this time in the opposite direction. I run to the shore of the lake – minimize the distance to the hind, crouched and opened fire. Swimming animal is quite small target since only thing I saw was its head with throat. That was some cannonade! The jets of water were arising around the target, but no hits. In the meantime the dog joined the chase and was swimming after the hind. I was beginning to get short on ammo, also the dog was closing the shooting angle, as I inserted the last pair of bullets and shot the last but one just to graze the hind on the left side of the head, that was obvious, she left loose her left ear and start to swim in tight circles . The dog soon catch up but was unable to get her for the throat, so the bitch circled around and climbed on the hind´s back just to put her under water. It took some half a minute till the hind drowned. As soon as it remained still the dog left her, and came ashore. Soon big crowd of villagers and hunters gathered and plans to get the critter out of water began. There was one man that came with rubber kids dinghy that was 3 feet across, trying to convince me to get in. It was an offer that I generously decline due to freezing cold. Soon someone got an idea and went to nearest fire department and borrow their boat. The boat went in the water, two guys jumped in and start to row. They were half way of the shore when they noticed that someone forgot to put in the plug on the bottom and water began to flood the boat. Thankfully one of them found the solution and undress the jacket and the shirt just to cork up the boat with his T shirt and the other started to throw the water out with his hat. Hi hi what a sight, with all the audience! To make it short, at the end all went well, we got hind out of the water and had quite a party later on, thorough we were the story of the year amongst the villagers and they still pull our leg today .

I have to wait until June before I can tell any African hunting stories, but I do have a good one concerning a whitetail hunt.

This happened about ten years ago. I was deer hunting with a friend in Southern Oklahoma on the Red River. We had gained permission to hunt a 1,000 acre island that was formed when the river changed banks and formed an ox bow lake. This was a great place to hunt deer, and only a few people had permission to be in there.

I was living in Houston, had come in for the weekend, and was not even planning on going hunting, but my buddy, Joe, told me about all the big deer they had been seeing, so I had to go. On Sunday afternoon I was sitting in a tripod blind when I heard Joe shoot about an hour before dark. About 15 minutes later a doe came out onto the dry river bed about 100 yards away, she was followed by a big buck. I was using a borrowed 22-250, I can’t even remember the model. I put the crosshairs on the buck’s shoulder and fired; his front end collapsed and he scooted into some brush about 10 yards from where I shot him. I could see the buck lying in the brush bleeding, so I didn’t shoot again (MISTAKE # 1) .

I decided to get out of my blind and sneak up the trail to meet Joe, who, I was sure, would be coming on the four wheeler with the deer he had shot. Sure enough I met him about 200 yards from the blind and he had a nice eight point on the four wheeler. We could still see my buck lying there bleeding and not moving, so we decided since we only had room for one deer and two people, we would take Joe’s deer out, and then come back for mine (MISTAKE # 2) .

The ride back to the truck was about 45 minutes through rough and swampy terrain. By the time we made it to the truck it was dark. Since I hadn’t planned on hunting, I didn’t have any of my gear (flashlight, compass, knife, etc…) (MISTAKE # 3) . We decided to field dress Joe’s deer, then go back for mine. When we were finished with the field dressing we took Joe’s flashlight and knife, but decided, for some reason that I am sure made perfect sense at the time we made the decision, not to take our rifles (MISTAKE # 4) .

We pulled the four wheeler close to the deer, and as we got off to start field dressing, the dead deer jumped up and ran about 20 yards into the swamp and collapsed. We decided to wait a while, and give him some more time to die. We sat there for about 30 minutes; then started through the swamp towards the dead deer. He jumped up again and ran farther into the swamp. We sat around for another 30 minutes trying to decide if we should go get a dog to trail him, or if we should follow him. We decided to follow him (MISTAKE # 5) .

This went on for about another hour. Finally we were well into the swamp, and had lost the deer. I had to leave for Houston in the morning, so Joe said he would come out in the morning with a dog and try to recover the deer. I agreed and we decided to head back to the four wheeler. We turned around and both walked in different directions (MISTAKE # 6) . We stopped and looked at each other. At that moment we realized just how screwed we were. We finally decided to try Joe’s direction, but it didn’t work out well for us. We wandered around for about another hour; all the time praying for a break in the clouds so we could get our bearings by the stars.

At around midnight, we were walking through a big clearing, when it sounded like we had walked into a covey of quail. I shone the flashlight in the direction of the noise, and there was my dead deer standing about 10 feet away! He snorted at us again, and then lay down. Joe and I backed off and came up behind the deer. I had the flashlight; Joe had the knife. As we are standing over the deer Joe realized that with the current equipment distribution, he was going to have to do the dirty work. Joe looked at me and whispered, “You shot the f@#$%ing thing; you take the knife!†I took the knife (MISTAKE # 7) .

I was standing behind the deer with the knife in my right hand (MISTAKE # 8) . I leaned over him (MISTAKE # 9) and was about to cut his throat when my dead deer went nuts. I dropped the knife (MISTAKE # 10) and grabbed his antlers (Mistake # 11) and hung on for dear life. I weigh about 225 LBS and my dead deer was kicking my ass all over the clearing. Joe had recovered the knife and came charging in like Mel Gibson in “Braveheart.†I was convinced this was mistake # 12, but luck was with us, and Joe killed my dead deer instead of killing me.

We were pumped! The adrenaline was really flowing! We had killed and recovered my dead deer! Then we realized that we were still lost, only now we had to tote a dead deer with us on our scenic tour of Southern Oklahoma’s swamp country.

We took turns dragging the deer while the other would scout ahead for the best route to wherever. After about another hour we heard an old propane powered pump jack come on. We knew it was on the Texas side of the river, so we finally knew which way was South.

We made it back to the truck with my double dead deer at about 3:00AM; where we were met by two angry fathers and Joe’s older brother. When Joe and I finished our story, both our fathers were starting to question our lineage, and speculating as to the identity of our true fathers. If I remember correctly, they narrowed it down to the postman or the garbage man.

Anyway, that’s my favorite hunting story. I’m hoping things go much better in Namibia this year.

My english is too bad to attempt such a challenge....so I must learn to live without that calendar.

Don't you feel bad after knowing such a sad story....



L

I'm going to have to stay up for a couple of nights and weekends just thinking to beat walters

Saeed said that was only half a story. He said you cannot have a hunt without killing something. So now I have to tell you about my buffalo hunt.

As I have mentioned before, I have been hunting with Saeed and Roy for so many years, and no matter how early we leave camp, we never shoot anything before 10 o’clock! Still, they insisted we leave camp at 5 o’clock every morning!

It is so dark at that time, and my own tent is so far away from the breakfast hut. Almost every morning I have to dodge hyenas on the way to the breakfast hut!
And they call that breakfast too! One cup of coffee and one piece of burnt toast! That is all Saeed eats every morning, and as everyone is still enjoying their rest, we have to leave so early and disturb even the hyenas from feeding in our camp!
And just as I thought, by 8 o’clock they found buffalo tracks. Saeed loads his rifle and hands it to me, saying “stay close to Roy. Don’t fall too far behindâ€
I just had to get myself out of the truck, took the rifle from Saeed, and looked around for Roy!
I could see no one! No Roy. No trackers. Only Saeed with a big grin on his face, saying “come on, hurry up. Follow themâ€

“Follow them where? I cannot see them!â€
He pointed in one direction, saying “they went that-a-way. Just follow their tracks and you will catch up with themâ€
“You must be joking! What tracks am I supposed to follow? A whole herd of elephants can pass here and leave no tracks!â€
Saeed takes the rifle from my hands, and runs off after Roy. I went back to the truck, and made myself comfortable to catch up with my sleep.

I woke up as the sun was getting hot. And not having had a good breakfast, I thought I might as well have something from the food box. There were hard boiled eggs, cheese, bread, meat from last night and many other delicious bits. Even Tabasco! Saeed drinks a bottle every day!

About lunch time Roy turns up, with a big smile on his face.
“What happened?†I asked.
“We shot your buffalo, as usual. Why didn’t you come this morning? We found the buffalo less than half a K from hereâ€
“Then how come I did not hear your shots if you were that close?â€
“Well, the buffalo smelt us and ran off, so we had to run after them. And that happened a few times, but finally we managed to shoot one. A nice bullâ€
We collected the buffalo, and went back to camp. Roy and Saeed went out again to chase more buffalo, but I stayed at camp to keep the ladies company.

Next day I decided to take a rest.

In the evening, Roy told me to wake up very early, as he knows where there are old bulls are. And to get there will take a long time.

They woke me up in the middle of the night. They dragged me to the truck and loaded me in. I fell asleep immediately, and was rudely awakened two hours later.

The same story again. Saeed loads his rifle and gives it to me. Roy is plastering himself with something that attracts tsetse flies.

We walked for MILES! (he is lying, it was no more than about 400 yards!â€) We found the tracks of the old bulls. We followed them. I did not feel so bad, as Roy and the trackers were in front of me, and Alan and Saeed were behind me. I felt so proud to be entrusted with protecting Alan and Saeed. One carrying a video camera and one is carrying a digital camera. It made me feel I was 10 feet tall that my friends trust me so much! (Keep on dreaming!)

Suddenly, Saeed pulls my jacket, stopping me in my tracks, saying “shhhâ€. Roy and the trackers were standing like dead statues! All looking at something! SLOWLY I tried to look at what they were looking at. But, all I could see what grass and trees! A whole herd of buffalo can be 50 yards from me and I would never know it was there!

EARYTHQUAKE! At least that is how it felt as the whole herd took off from 20 yards in front of us! Roy took off after them, with Saeed screaming at me to run after Roy! I am NOT going to chase a herd of buffalo when I cannot see them this close. I did not move. Saeed snatched the rifle from my hands and took off after Roy.

It did not take long for me to realize that I was ALONE! And UNARMED! In grass that was towering over my head! In fact, I did not even know which direction the truck was! I just stood still, contemplating what to do.

Suddenly I heard a shot. It came from BEHIND me, and not that far either! OH SHIT! I could hear the earth shaking again. And the earthquake was getting stronger! The buffalo herd is coming in my direction. About 20 yards away I could see the top of a tree, so I took off towards it. I could no longer hear the buffalo, so I felt a bit safer now.

“WALTER! WALTER!†Saeed was calling.
“I AM HERE!â€
“COME OVER. WE GOT A NICE BUFFALO FOR YOU!â€
“I AM NOT MOVING FROM HERE UNTIL SOMEONE COMES TO GET ME!â€

The game scout came over, and we walked to where Saeed and Roy were admiring a nice old bull.

“What happened to you today? Why didn’t you follow me as the buffalo ran off?†asked Roy.
“I was just about to follow you, when Saeed grabbed the rifle from my hand and took off!â€

I had to have two days off to rest after all that scare!

Again, I get woken up in the middle of the night, and driven half across Tanzania just so I can shoot one particular buffalo! We had our two hour drive, stopped far away from where the buffalo are supposed to be, and walked.

The first part of the walk was not so bad, as we walked on the road. But, as soon as we had to turn into the bush, everything changed. First the trackers started looking for the buffalo tracks. They seem to find them, and loose them. Suddenly, I felt like someone has set fire to my balls! I started screaming, jumping up and down, and taking my trousers off at the same time! All Saeed did was grab his rifle from my hands, and screaming with laughter at the same time!

It was NOT funny at all! I stood on a colony of “syafu†I Those nasty soldier ants, that eat animals alive!

It took me half an hour to pull all the ants that were hanging to all parts of my body!

We carried on following the buffalo again. Then I could see Roy looking back at me, his lips were moving, but he was not saying anything! I thought he was trying to be a comedian! Saeed, who was behind me, pushed me forward, pointing that I should get where Roy was.

As I got to Roy, he already had the shooting stick up, and then I saw several bulls all standing in line broadside!

“Which one shall I shoot?â€
“The one in the front†said Roy.
“Third one from the left†said Alan.
“Shoot anyone of them†said Saeed.

I listened to Roy and hot the one in front. And before I recovered from the recoil, Saeed knockes me down as he grabbed the rifle from my hands. He actually ran over me as I fell on my face. (he tripped and fell, and I had no choice but to run over him).

Apparently Saeed and Roy wanted to shoot another buffalo.
They could not catch up with the buffalo, so they came back, with a look of shear misery on their faces!

“You wounded the buffalo†said Saeed. “How anyone can wound a buffalo standing broadside like that is incredible! You should stay in camp from now onâ€

“I aimed smack in the middle of his shoulders. That buffalo is lying dead not far from here!â€

One of our trackers, who was looking around where the buffalo was standing, was signaling us to go to him.

We found that I had shot a twig! The twig that saved the buffalo!

BUT! I drew BLOOD! And he who draws first blood owns the animal. So that buffalo belongs to me, even if a lion kills it.

The rain was coming down as if God was planning another flood. Jonathan and I had been out after red stags all morning. Around 11 in the morning we started making our way back to the road, where we were to meet my cousin, who was hunting another area, across a few ridges. When we were approaching the road we hear a shot behind us. "That must be Anton!" "He's got one!!" We start shoulder slappin', when we hear another shot. "Oh, oh... that might not be good". Twenty seconds later another shot. "Oh shit, what the .... is he doing??" We speculate on the events, but really can do nothing but wait. And wait. And wait some more. In the pouring rain. By the side of the road. In the rain. Hungry. Did I mention it rained?

We shared an apple and some chocolate. We wait for an hour, two hours. We started contemplating our options. The car was about 15 kilometers away. Not a single vehicle passed while we were sitting there. And of course, if we left, Anton might show up and not find us. We wait some more. While it rained and rained and rained. Finally after three hours we decide to call it quits. We need to get to the car, and start to figure out what happened to Anton. Surely he wouldn't be dressing and schlepping a stag by himself. He's more the delegating type and would happily involve us in the dirty work.

We build a rock pile by the side of the road, and skillfully shape an arrow, pointing in our intended direction. Suddenly a white Landrover appears on the crest of the distant hill, just about as we are starting the trek. Though we look dirty, soaked, and are armed on top of that, we hope to get a lift out of this fellow. As the Rover approaches, Jonathan mumbles "Police". I start scrambling for paperwork. After all, I'm a foreigner, be it on a legal hunt, and I'm on a public road, with a gun. In the rain. Gun checks to be unloaded, I slip out the bolt, feel for European Gun Passport, Dutch gun license, some proof of our right to hunt there. "There's two of them", Jonathan says... and then "Wait a minute!!! Anton's in there!!"

As the police vehicle pulls up, Anton gives us a wry smile, he's dirtier than we are, scratched and looking dog-tired. "Good morning, gentlemen, I picked up this individual on the sea side road, and he claims to be part of your hunting party". I fight the urge to say "Never seen the bugger before", and we quickly clear up things. Copper gives us all a ride back to the car.

Anton starts telling: "I left the car at the parking lot and didn't go very far when I see those two stags. It's about 300 yards or so, so I decide to try a shot. I missed. I tried two more times, but couldn't see if the shots hit or not. So I went up for a look. Not finding any sign of blood, I returned to the car, but I must have missed that too. I never found the darn car, and wandered around for hours, until I hit the sea road. That is where the cop picked me up".
"So, why didn't you use your GPS?"
We had made a big deal out of buying and practing with GPS's especially for this trip.

Silence...

"Well???"

"Eh, I left it in the car."

Beer was on Anton that night....

Frans

“Billy’s Buckâ€
copyright 2005 Dave Duffy

The day had been long and cold and boring, except for those few moments of intense emotion and action. The men gathered around the campfire to tell their stories of this day and others past. As they did so, the smoke curled up and the fresh logs brightly lit the immediate surroundings. All to the sounds or lack there of, of the wilderness they had come to once again. Now while this is a story of one particular buck and hunter, it is also a story as old as time itself.
It began with the birth of a pair of fawns six or seven years before, not more than 5 miles from where the hunters sat warming themselves by the fire. That winter had been the first of an unusual weather trend of mild winters and lush summers. The time always goes so fast when thinking in seasons rather than days or weeks. The young button buck rapidly grew on the mother’s milk he sought so frequently from the doe. The doe was herself a prime specimen, though how could one know that.
The first year in the life of “Billy’s Buck†was pretty idyllic in deer terms. He was fortunate in that none of the local predators had discovered him. He didn’t know why himself, but something told him to hold tight and don’t even blink when he sensed danger close by. If he was up and moving when danger called, he executed some very rapid sprint moves he had developed which soon put trees between him and the danger.
So, while all this growing was going on, the hunter in question was once a year spending a week of his life looking for the buck of his dreams right there in “Billy’s Buck’s†own backyard. Billy didn’t notice the special nature of “Billy's Buck†the first couple of years, but he did catch a glimpse of him in his third year. That night around the fire Billy said; “I saw a buck today that someday will be a real wall hanger.†The other hunters took notice for they knew that Billy was a good judge of the things which made a trophy buck a trophy.
The antlers which “Billy’s Buck†grew that third year sported 10 points, five on each side. While they grew to the width of his ears and his second tines were showing a tendency for length, the mass just hadn’t filled in quite yet. Yes, young “Billy’s Buck†was becoming a fine specimen of this area. What Billy knew that “Billy’s Buck†couldn’t know was that this area was the best in the world for the genetic characteristics for world class bucks. The hunt went on that year and the rut taught “Billy’s Buck†some humility, but also about his role in the grand scheme of things.
Nursing his wounds from his attempts at competing for the affections of the does in his area, “Billy’s Buck†spent the mild winter quietly in the spruce thickets and alert for any danger. He healed quickly from the cuts and bruises. His masculinity was once again challenged when he cast his antlers late in January. But he couldn’t really care as just finding enough food and staying warm was more important.
Billy was home with his family late in January and unbeknown to his wife as they sat watching the evening news, Billy was thinking for the first time about that buck he had seen the previous season. He moved slightly, enough to catch Pam’s eye and she asked him “what’s the matter?†“Oh nothing, I was just thinking about a buck I saw last season and don’t know why.†The reason why, is that a bond of sorts had developed between Billy and “Billy’s Buck†which neither could understand at that time.
“Billy’s Buck†rose from his bed and sensed something new, danger of some kind, but remote and very different. He found that he was more comfortable moving about at night, a calmer atmosphere to his senses. As he browsed that night he felt a hunger, his body was still growing. Like all whitetails he was a
creature of habit. He traveled down the same trails many times over and used the same general area to bed. Sometimes laying up
in exactly the same spot, a characteristic many outdoors writers have claimed doesn’t happen! But “Billy’s Buck†was all about himself, what else was there in his world?
Winter grudgingly gave way to spring and the circles of life continued to expand. “Billy’s Buck†saw the coming of the fawns and didn’t know that his onetime successful encounter with a doe had made him a father for the first time. He was with some other bucks of his approximate age group and more importantly temperament. The summer had become “Billy’s Buck’s†favorite time due to the calm and richness of the land. In his group of bucks “Billy’s Buck†wasn’t the largest in body, nor the oldest in age. He was perhaps the most alert and the most shy, he really didn’t mind being totally alone.
Billy on the other hand wished for the time alone on stand hunting. For him this time of the year was his busiest, and the stress of modern living was getting to him. So what to do when stressed? Call up a hunting buddy and go golfing.
Billy and George rode down the fairway on the eleventh hole and George was driving. Billy was dreaming again about the smells of the campfire and the cold wind blowing, but mostly just enjoying the peace brought on by the day. He gazed off to the right and could have sworn he saw a buck in the woods. Well he told George and George couldn’t have laughed harder. “Billy, there’s no deer in these woods.†Billy was jolted back to reality, but he felt something strange about that moment.
The first frost had fallen and “Billy’s Buck†was being pulled by urges stronger than he had ever felt. He just knew that he had to strengthen his neck and polish his antlers because he
badly wanted to have more than just one encounter with a doe this year. Apparently, his fellow bucks were all of a like mind, as the evidence of their efforts was beginning to show up all through the woods. “Billy’s Buck†found it harder and harder to be with the other bucks with this inner tension building.
Billy was a happy man, it was time to pack again for the annual hunt. Best of all, this year was that all of the old camp would be hunting together once again. No cancellations and no problems, yes this would be a very good year. Billy was determined to hold out for that mystery buck everyone knew was out there, but no one had ever seen. He had this feeling which he couldn’t quite put into words, he just knew that such a buck was out there for him.
“Billy’s Buck†exploded from the willows into the clearing and slammed head to head with one of his fellow bucks. The doe stood off to the side watching the contest as echoes of the crashing antlers resounded through the woods. The growth of “Bill’s Buck’s†antlers had been astounding and the strength he put behind them could only be called awesome. The second place winner ran from the clearing as “Billy’s Buck†chased him yet once again. The doe suitably impressed by “Billy’s Buck’s†efforts amply rewarded him for his efforts.
Close to dawn “Billy’s Buck†sensed the presence of an intruder into his domain, an intolerable condition. He rose from his bed by the doe and went to investigate while grunting a challenge. The challenge was grunted right back at him! A crashing of branches and the resounding clash of antlers was once again ringing through out the forest. A true master of the woods, the intruder was several years older and wiser than “Billy’s Buck.†One of the snapping sounds heard that cold morning was the loss of “Billy’s Buck’s†first and second tines on his left side!
The fight had lasted nearly fifteen minutes, but “Billy’s Buck†wasn’t yet the master of his domain that he thought he was.
Billy was sitting in the airport and waiting for the first flight to board. He had this nagging feeling that he had forgotten something, but he had checked his list twice and knew this wasn’t the case. Well something wasn’t right, he knew that. Whatever it was didn’t matter as he was going hunting.
“Billy’s Buck†sulked around the spruce for awhile and wandering down the main trail caught scent of another doe. His mind quickly returned to the seasonal necessities which drove him on. Curling his nose to better define the smells he moved on along the trail. Not long after he caught sight of the doe which he had fixated upon. She was out in the meadow enjoying the bounty that the farmer so kindly left.
Billy had been watching this meadow for several hours and was very happy to have the company of a doe at this time of the year. He scanned the woods as best he could every few minutes hoping for a buck to appear. He looked to the left and saw a buck approaching down the edge of the meadow just inside the woods. Raising his binoculars he was thrilled to see so large a rack. Quickly he put down the binoculars and grabbed his rifle. As the buck weaved in and out of the thicker spots he kept a close eye on the rack, trying hard to field score this beautiful animal.
“Billy’s Buck†stopped to check the wind once again, a seemingly subconscious act on his part to be sure. As he did so he turned his head to the right, and saved his own life by showing the still unseen hunter his broken rack. Billy was very disappointed to see such a fine animal with a broken rack, but simultaneously thought about the buck that broke this bucks antlers. With that thought In mind, he put down the rifle and continued to wait.
That night around the fire there were some who would like a chance at this buck because obviously he was a scrapper. Time though was on the side of “Billy’s Buck†as he rarely exposed himself. He was shaken by the movement he saw after that strange smell had drifted to him that morning. The doe had proven to be less than interested in his advances and off he went to still unchecked portions of his domain.
Billy and the other hunters had a good hunt that year and some of “Billy’s Buck’s†summer companions wouldn’t be spending the summer with “Billy’s Buck†the following year. Billy couldn’t shake the funny feeling that he had seen that buck before in other years and somehow knew he would see him again. Well he sure hoped so anyway. He thought of that buck many times over the coming year.
“Billy’s Buck†was now as big and powerful as he would ever be. He had become the undisputed master of his domain. There were no bucks he had encountered that didn’t give him all the room he could wish for. He knew every bush, trail, and meadow in his range. He had his favorite places, but they varied by season or weather. It would be the weather which saved “Billy’s Buck†that next fall.
Billy sat in his stand and prayed for a chance at the big buck he had glimpsed the previous year. What he didn’t do was freeze like so many of the previous hunts. The deer were just not moving till after dark it seemed. For “Billy’s Buck†these were
actually ideal conditions.
“Billy’s Buck†moved through the meadow and smelled the unpleasant smells of the hunters which only caused him to be more cautious. As he went about his business of lord and master of this area, he did so at his pace. Other bucks came and went, but still they gave “Billy’s Buck†his space. The does seemed to seek him out for his company now, and he was only happy to oblige.
Walt, one of the other hunters in the party and long time friend of Billy’s, stopped by one afternoon to talk about hunting. The visit only seemed to fuel the fire which burned in Billy for the big one. That night Billy called the outfitter and asked if anyone had gotten the buck after he had left. “No†was the answer, “but we did find one of the sheds. Would you like to know what it scored?†Billy knew that patience was his greatest asset as a hunter, but after hearing about the buck’s potential score, patience was something he was fresh out of. His senses couldn’t compare to those of a wild animal, only his brain could give him an edge. Billy used his brain a lot that year thinking about the buck in the tree line.
“Billy’s Buck†had not grown complacent, but he did feel he had to fulfill his role as lord and master of the area. Since he was never seriously challenged, he didn’t waste his energies. The seasons came and went, with the rut, the most important one rapidly approaching.
Billy had the new, warmer clothes and the best scope on his rifle money could buy. He was glad he had brought the clothes as this was beginning to look like an early winter. As he had so many times before, he sat in a stand which seemed to have more active sign near it than ever before. It was the third day of the hunt and with the temperatures plunging deer activity was up, way up.
The day wore on as a lone doe stood feeding in the meadow. She seemed to look behind her frequently and Billy was sure there was a buck back in the woods. Was it the buck he had come for? He didn’t know but he sure hoped so. The doe snapped her head up and looking across the meadow stared into the eyes of an impressive whitetail buck. There is very little more impressive in the northern woods than a fully mature buck in the rut, standing in front of you. Billy however was a patient and seasoned hunter, and he knew at a glance that this wasn’t the buck he had come so far and waited so long to kill. Maybe on Friday he thought, enjoying the show.
The crashing of branches on Billy’s right snapped that thought right out of his mind as “Billy’s Buck†stepped into the meadow, head down and ears back. A fast double take was all Billy needed to see. He realized that this was his once in a lifetime opportunity. Time itself seemed to freeze, for Billy there was no feeling of doubt. The first buck also put his ears back, but didn’t show the resolve which “Billy’s Buck†possessed and he quickly departed. “Billy’s Buck†took a few steps toward the doe to remind her of his intentions and his presence. In so doing he turned sideways and the crash of Billy’s rifle sent him to the ground.
In an instant it was over, the years of waiting and hoping and the seasons coming and going. Billy knew this was his best ever buck, the one he had dreamed of. What he didn’t know was that the doe was carrying “Billy’s Buck’s†last set of twins, both of them male.
That night around the fire, Billy had to tell all who would listen, for the fifth or sixth time how it had been, at least the part he knew of. Interestingly, all gladly listened for they either were hoping for their chance, or remembering their own moment of glory. Maybe also that something in the telling of the story would help them out when their moment came. Dave threw another log on the fire and said; “Yes Bill, patience is a wonderful attribute, but I’ll take luck anytime!.†The hunters laughed and were warmed inside by the feelings of success and togetherness which surrounded them all.

This happen some time ago but exciting!- - -

Eye ball to eye ball on the Prairie!

After taking a good Pronghorn Ram, and watching my good friend Randy stalk and take his, it was time to hit the Dog towns! Prairie dogs that is! I had used a 270 on the Pronghorns and yes it was my weapon of choice for the dogs, after a few hours of shooting, I wanted a few for mounts, being a taxidermist I though a dog or two on the base with my lifesize Pronghorn would add a little to the finished mount! the 270 just wasn't leaving enough to work with so I borrowed a .22 from the Outfitter, Dave Moore.


Here is the scene of the face to face


Randy and me were off, Dave said it wasn't the best of guns and to try and get fairly close for the shots. So after spotting a Dog on a mound the stalk was on, or I should say the belly crawl! I can't believe I was doing this for a Prairie Dog! I got my share of prickly Pear Cactus I can tell you that! Anybody that's done the Prairie crawl knows all about Prickly Pears. After crawling a hundred yards or so, I'm sure it was the "or so" at least it felt like it! We got set up behind a small bush not more then a foot high, yes we were hugging the ground! As I laid there watching for a dog to pop out of a burrow, a could hear the un-mistakeable sound of a rattle! SH*#!! After trying to locate the sound, "Randy" I semi-camly said, "Where is that coming from?" I could hear it very clearly and close! Randy looked at me just as a good size rattler face, I mean face because he was 3 inches from my face!! And that's about all I could see of him! He rose up out of the little bush I was so nice and comfortable behind, nose to nose we were, My they have nice eyes! I'm sure I was just a bit more nervous the he was! I very slowly started to ease my self back, leaving the rilfe lie were it was for now. Without moving my mouth to much, I told Randy to ease back slow too! After getting far enough away, I got up, grabbed the rifle and got myself a very nice hat band!

Never did get any Dogs to take home for mounts!



The "Devil Cactus!"

I've got two; one funny and one kinda amazing.

THE FUNNY STORY

I had travelled to Missouri along with my brother in law and a couple of friends on a turkey hunt. We had arranged to hunt on private land near Kirksville, which may be the turkey hunting capital of the world, and I had hired a guide for the first day.

We made a couple of setups, but hadn't shot yet. I was using a TCR 83 Aristocrat, which was a single shot rifle with set triggers, and which had a 10 guage barrel available. Not a good choice, but I wanted to try the 10. I had a fanny pack with snacks, shells, licenses etc.

The guide decided to try at the edge of a creek facing a relatively open power line right of way coming down from a roost area. He looked over the ground and told me to set with my back against a tree in the edge of a thicket, between two stumps. Because it was a tight fit, he took my fanny pack with him. He set up about 10 yds away so that the bird would focus on him instead of me.

Within two calls, he got an answer, and the bird came right in. This looked to be the biggest turkey in Missouri. He would easily have gone over 30 pounds and his beard was literally dragging on the ground. He was walking out of the brush about 20 yds away and I quickly got on target and started tracking him. When he entered the open area of the right of way, I sent 2-1/4 ounces of hard No. 6 toward his head.

Unfortunately, I was so intent on focusing on the bird"s head that I didn't see a young poplar tree about 10 yds in front of me as I swung the shotgun. It was completely out of focus. When I shot, the bird was passing behind the tree. The tree trunk expolded and a half moon "bite" about 8" across appeared. The shattered wood sprayed the turkey with such force it knocked it to the ground. The tree quivered for a minute and then toppled over. You guessed it, right on top of the turkey.

The turkey flopped, jerked and pulled until it got free, then took off straight up the hill at a dead run, with its wings trailing behind. It seemed to be in a total daze.

The guide screamed "Shoot him again, he's getting away!!"

I looked over at him and said calmly "I would if you didn't have all my shells over there with you."

We watched as the biggest turkey in Missouri disappeared over the hill.


THE AMAZING STORY

In 1998 I had heart surgery following a cardiac arrest. The surgeon used the radial arteries from both forearms as conduits. The radials are one of two arteries that run down your arm to your hand.

Four years ago, I decided to hunt deer on opening day on our farm about a mile from my home. I drove up on the hill, went to my usual spot, and started watching for deer to start moving when the opening day hunters started putting on pressure. About 30 minutes after arriving a nice 8 point crossed the saddle in the ridge, and I took him. Unfortunately, he fell down the hill into a thicket of multiflora rose thorns. Due to my heart situation, I can't do a lot of pulling and lifting, so I decided to clean and butcher him where he lay on the steep hill. I was wearing latex gloves, and was almost finished, when I grabbed his back leg with my left hand and pulled to rotate the carcass while I was cutting with my right. When I pulled, the deer slipped and slid down the hill, causing the knife to come out as I was cutting upward. It slashed across my hand, and I realized I had cut myself. In fact, I had cut my thumb about hald off. Blood started flying, although luckily it wasn't pulsing. I was by myself, so I quickly pulled off my belt and used it to cinch my handkerchief against the wound. I got the truck started one handed, and drove down the hill, where I used my cell phone to call my wife for help. She quickly took me to the doctor while I held the wound to minimize the bleeding.

They took me right into the emergency room. The doctor examined the wound for a minute and then got a puzzled expression. He said "I don't understand this. You have cut your radial artery at the base of your thumb but it's hardly bleeding." I pulled up the sleeve and showed him the scars, and explained the situation.

He was amazed. He said if I had done this while by myself and the artery was still functional I may well have bled to death. As it was, the only blood I lost was what backflowed through the capillaries.

Whenever, I see those horms on the wall, I think about how uncertain life really is.

Gentlemen,

Walter is feeling generous, and has decided that we give a calendar to everyone who has posted a story so far!

As usual, he had forgotten that I have to print them and put them together, address them and pack them, and then mail them!

If I asked him to do any of these, the chance of anyone of you getting one during this year would be rather small

So, those who have submitted stories, please send me your name and mailing address, in a PM only please, no email.

A suggested was also made to me that I should gather all these stories, and add them to our Hunting Page, under CALENDAR stories.

I will wait until everyone has finished - may be by the end of February, before I do that.

Many thanks to those who have shared their stories with us.

Many years ago I hunted with an older friend (since died of a heart attack while hunting) who had had no luck one particular season in getting a buck.

I shot a nice 8 point one sunny morning, field dressed it, then decided to play a joke on Bill.

I set the deer up as though he was bedded down on the rocky hillside, with his head on a rock and body partially obscured with brush. You could tell he had a nice rack, but couldn't see his tongue hanging out.

I went back to camp and told Bill that I'd seen this buck walk onto the hillside and not walk out, so I figured he'd bedded down. I asked Bill if he would like to sit on the opposite hillside so he might get a shot if the buck saw me and escaped that direction, while I went over to stalk the hillside.

Bill was hot to trot so away we went back to the hill.

After Bill got settled he started glassing the hillside where the buck was bedded down, and of course saw the buck. I was on my way to still hunt the hillside. It did not take Bill long after spotting the buck to recite that old saw about a "bird in the hand" to himself, and he shot that deer twice at about 400 yards. He stopped shooting when the buck's head fell off the rock on the second shot.

I chewed Bill out for shooting my buck all the way across the gully and up the other side.

When we got up to the buck I rolled it over and congratulated Bill on killing the deer with one shot and gutting it cleanly with the next. His sputtering reaction was priceless - bottom line though was he tagged the deer and claimed it - I'd forgotten!

quote:

I knew he wanted to laugh at me when I miss. The HUGE pig looked so TINY when I looked through the scope. He looked like 400 meters away! I aimed about 10 inches above his shoulder and fired!

Walter,

I would check to see if Saeed has given you a rifle with the scope mounted backwards. And next time, smuggle in your trusty Blaser!

H. C.

Two Stories

The funny one ( My first experience with Dangerous Game " The Louisiana black bear "

I was about 19 and had only one season under my belt. I had spent the entire summer reading everything I could about hunting. I had scouted a hill I liked and found a nice scrape.The area I was hunting was a old gravel pit some of the trails would drop straight down a 100 foot or so. In south Louisiana we are not used to hills of this type.
The rule was you would leave the stand 15 min before dark. There was also a black bear and a cub on the property. She was not fond of hunters because some jerk shot one of her cubs. It had been raing for three days prior to the opening of Deer season . Walking to my stand there were a few tracks other than those made after the rain had stoped the night before. My hunt was a bust, my buck did not show. I got out of the stand 15 min before sun set to walk out.
I started down the trail and noticed fresh bear tracks t5hat had not been there on the way up. It became clear that the sow had come out of the hollow and followed my trail for 60 yards or so, before turning off the trail. (some of my tracks had been steped on). Two weeks earlier the sow had chased another hunter off that same hill but I wanted the buck real bad and would not be scared by the old sow. I stared to sneak down the trail ever so quite and alert. I had good eyes and good ears back then, and that bear was not going to scare me! I am sneaking much to slow and it is now getting dark very fast, I catch the sent of rotting garbage ( I read bears often smell bad because they eat garbage and fermenting berries) I knew she was close but its dark now and can only see 10 yards or so. The bears scent is stronger, I am listening to the faintest of sounds, moving with out makeing any noise and I am ready for what may come. My senses are hightened the hair on the back of my neck is standing up ( that realy did happen). I step on a twig it it sounded like a cannon. The ground around me explodes I can't tell where she is comeing from, but I know shes comeing . I fire a round with my 444 Marlin hopeing to see her in the muzzel flash. All I see is my first covey rise, I had walked into the middle of a covey of 20 or so quail hideing in a bunch of maple leaves. Now and then when my bird dogs and I seek revenge on the quail, I think I hear the sounds of the old sow laughing at a boy that would not be scared.

A Hot Shot is put in his place.

Last June I went on my first Safari to Namibia for plains game. I had just left my Employer of 23 years to start my own company. I was going to go by my self and as cheeply as possible, My wife of 29 years had just had some blood sugar problems and would only go through
a physical if I would. She was fine but the doctor looked at me and brought up the C word.
My liver test were not good. After MRI 's and nuclar test of some sort it was decided it was my training for the up comeing Safari throwing off the blood work I was fine also. My wife decided after the scare maybe she should also join on the trip (What if it had been the big C)
On the cheep just went out the window. The trip takes on a whole new meaning. Fast forward to the trip. My wife had decided she was not going to hunt and was just along for the ride. We
are sighting in my 375 H&H & 416 rem mag. Brian my PH picks up his Brno 06 loads it and pass it to my wife, She looks at him states she is not going to kill anything. He tells her Ihave been bragging about her skill with a 22 rifle and wanted to see if she could real shoot. Two shoots touching one inch high at 100 meters he stated that most of his male hunters did not shoot that well. 6 blown stalks no shots fired
we are heading in. we pass with in 200 yards of a herd of gemsbuck standing in the pan. He has the driver turn in picks up his 06 and racks a round.and hands it to Ann who say she will not kill anything. He tells her that he has 20 workers to feed that week and has no meat in the locker, and that if he asked me to shoot one Iwould get off the truck and scare them off, and his people would go hungery. She says ok, He winks to me , I barely have time to set up when she fires her rifle. The Gemsbuck falls as if hit by Thors hammer. My wife scores the first kill without it takeing a step. fast forward My bluewildebeest shot through the heart runs 175 yards, my zebra shot full length with the 416 runs 1/4 mile.
Brian and I are on a stalk for gemsbuck for 2 hours Ann is on the truck with the trackers and game scout. Two Zebra stalions feed within 200 meters of the truck. Brians radio goes off the game scout ask if madam can shot a Zebra. I ask if she knows where to shoot her reply "No Problem" I tell her aim four inches high of where she want's the bullet to strike.

We hear the shot, The radio cracks He down but not dead. Ann has to walk up to the Zebra and finish it while it is looking at her with those big brown eyes.She misses first shot. Followed through with the second shot. That night at supper Miss Ina the PH's wife is looking very pleased with herself. Our after dinner drinks are poured, Ina looks at me and asked JD explain to me why everything Annie shoots with Brian's itty biddy 30 06 falls over dead with out taking a step, and every thing I shoot with my big old ele guns run off and work her poor trackers to death. I answer I need bigger ele guns. We nicknamed Annie "One shot Annie" I stared shooting everything through the shoulder instead of the heart.

This is really great reading. I have a little time available to me right now and have enjoyed these greatly. I printed the rest and have them tucked in my briefcase for reading when I am travelling. Keep it up everyone.
Frank

I've got one from my Eland hunt here in Texas on the Camp Cooley Ranch 2 years ago. Here it goes:

We got the ranch late one afternoon and decided it would be best if we went to the range to check my rifle (the mighty .300 WSM). Upon entering the ranch, we are greeted by a herd of about 60 Eland feeding in a large clearing. The Eland were not even remotely scared of the truck and my dad started getting worried that this was going to be "fish in a barrel" hunt but my guide assured us that they were nothing like this when it came to stalking them on foot (as we would learn later, the hard way). After checking the rifle, we got a good night's sleep, then it was off to hunt some Eland. We started at the back of the ranch and found a nice herd but with no mature bulls in it. We moved toward the middle of the ranch and as we rounded the corner of a Yaupon thicket, we spotted a lone Eland cow on the edge of some brush about 300 yards off. We backed up the truck and parked, knowing that she wasn't by herself. We planned a stalk, and within about 45 minutes, we topped a small hill to see the herd grazing just below us at about 60 yards. We waited and finally, a HUGE bull appeared, hot on the trail of a cow in heat. He was exactly what I was looking for, mature with a huge ruff on his forehead. My dad was videoing the hunt and so we were trying to get him set up to capture the moment on film. As we were doing this, my guide quietly mutters, "Oh God, please tell me this isn't happening. Wade, look to the right." To my dismay, I see the ranch owner's attorney, who was visiting from Germany, jogging with his Yorkshire Terrier down a path . At this point I said something to the effect of "How much is the trophy fee for an atorney with his dog? I could get a full body mount of him in his shorts". He was headed directly towards us, therefore preventing a shot and scattering the herd, which we never caught up with (DAMN, Eland can run fast!) I did end up getting a nice mature Eland bull after 6 full days of hard hunting, but we never saw that bull from the first morning ever again. Apart from the first morning, that hunt was one of my absolute favorites and most memorable. I truly love Eland. And just so Saeed knows, I am only 17 years old. Maybe that will give me a little better chance at a calendar.