The Hammond and the mention of Capstick thread got me thinking and I'm sure everyone here has things in their journeys afield that you have not told others because you think they may not be believed, but are absolutely true.

I think it would be entertaining for everyone who has to post just one thing here and let the chips fall where they may!

I will start with one that has nothing to do with Africa, but does with hunting, and is something that I have posted before but was hard for even me to believe when it happened.

I was about 12 yrs old and hunted in town with a Daisey BB gun and a 410 double and a single shot 22 in the woods. I had seen Humming birds all my life and they intrigued me because not only their size but because the things they could do that other birds could not. I had never seen one up close and really wanted to.

My mother had planted a small flower garden on the whole South side of our small house. That garden often attracted humming birds. I looked out the window and saw a humming bird working the West end of the garden.

I grabbed my BB gun and went out the back door of the house a eased over to the South west corner of the house about four or five feet from where I had last seen the humming bird. I knew the bird would fly as soon as he saw me.

Buck fever got the best of me so I snapped around that corner and fired from the hip before I even saw the humming bird. The BB hit that bird square in the middle of the body killing him instantly. That alone is amazing , but the real amazing thing was, that while I was slipping out the door and getting to the corner of the house the bird had moved all the way to the other end of the house about 30 feet away, and the shot hit him!

Now is it any wonder why I never even told my friends about it because I knew they wouldn’t believe it, and I doubt there will be one in a hundred here who will believe it now, 64 years later!

............................................................................

Had an opening scene "Last of the Mohicans" event on a Moose hunt once.

My hunting partner (new to Alaska) and I were sharing a small VE25 tent. We were camped on the tundra above a cutbank of the Nushagak River near Angel Bay. I got up first in the morning needing to relieve some bladder pressure. It was first light. I unzipped the tent slid out took a few steps from the tent and realized a Bull Moose was 75 yards behind the tent staring at me. My rifle was still in the tent.

I slowly slid my way back to the tent and whispered to my partner to quietly hand me out my .338. His response was a very loud, “Do you see something”.

At that the Moose took off towards the West, paralleling the river. I reached in the tent grabbed my rifle and started sprinting down a game trail along the cutbank in the hopes of cutting the Moose off. As I ran I knew this was futile.

I sprinted about 3/4 of a mile and finally pulled up pissed about the missed opportunity. My breath came in short gasps. Then to my left I saw the Moose at a full trot clear a wet depression and come into view about 150 yards quartering away headed up a raise. I popped the rifle to my shoulder and despite the tachypneic breathing took a snap shot. The Moose piled up in his tracks never to move again.

It then dawned on me I had shot an Alaskan Moose now a good mile and a half from the river across a low lying swamp.

We finished packing that load about 11 hours later. I never found an entrance or exit wound, a wound channel, or damaged meat.

I think I scared it to death.

Back in my native Colorado we have a type of jay that is commonly called a "Camp Robber". Once when we were packing up at the end of an elk hunt I did a cowboy type draw and centered one of these birds on the wing with a single shot from a 22 pistol. I had about 6 witnesses at the time.

I'm really glad another one didn't happen to fly by because there is no way I could have done it twice. But I got a whole year's worth of bragging rights from that one shot.

Story's are ones dreams.

Here is one for you.
A group of hunters (5) from Wyoming and South Dakota went to Alaska to to moose and caribou hunt.

Took the goose out of King Salmon and was flown into the bush to float a river and hunt. Pick up was a lined up for days in the future.

e have rubber rafts and a out board motor for our rafts and as time went on a party members was using the fuel for the out board to dry his clothing as all he had brought along was cotton and that was a very poor choice. Well we run out of fuel for our out board and now we have to use our paddles which a member lost and now we were down to using our rifle stocks as oars.

As we neared the coast the tied rise 20 some feet and we were caught in a out draft flow. One member decided to swim to shore about 1/4 mile away and was down to his skivvies as the rest were on there way to sea. Our swimmer realized the water was too cold and found a sand bar to stand on and contemplate what to do. As luck would have it the natives saw this white person on a sand bar and came out to see what they could do and rescued them and then they proceeded 2 mile off shore to retrieve the 2 rubber rafts and remaining 4 hunting members.

If you like this one i have another one that was life or death also from the same group.

I'm not going to bother. You wouldn't believe me anyway.

That I am as handsome in person as I am on TV!

quote:

Originally posted by Dave Fulson:
That I am as handsome in person as I am on TV!

Jeez Dave, way to set a low bar for yourself!

I actually am much more striking in person.

Aaron looks about the same ... not sure if that's good or bad ...

Mine is hard to believe not because it was exciting but just the opposite.

On my first hunt (in Matetsi Unit 2) we were on one side of the mostly dry river. On the other side was a herd of zebra. Standing between the zebras and us on the edge of the other side of the river was a bull hippo. I took the shot on the zebra, oh let's say, from 60 yards. The bullet probably crossed the river 20 feet in front of the hippo. He just slowly turned around and walked downstream.

Now after seeing all the Mark Sullivan videos and hearing all the true stories about hippo charges and bad tempers, I guess I saw the most laid-back old boy in Africa that day.

Executed a perfect brain shot on a moving Croc in Mozambique at 120 yards off hand from a motoring panga type boat while holding a beer.

You are dead to me Rick!! LOL

5'6" 120lb. drunken hoolagon lands 5'10" slender Babe that is still with me after 35 yrs.
Nobody gave us over 3 months.
Yes, this is a hunting story, just one about 2 legged game instead of 4 legged ones.

quote:

Originally posted by bwana cecil:
5'6" 120lb. drunken hoolagon lands 5'10" slender Babe that is still with me after 35 yrs.
Nobody gave us over 3 months.
Yes, this is a hunting story, just one about 2 legged game instead of 4 legged ones.

Sounds like that was a great dear hunt!

quote:

Originally posted by Dave Fulson:
You are dead to me Rick!! LOL

Unlike Dave, all the rest of us actually GOT a giant eland in the CAR.

OUCH!!! Not nice, Aaron!

When I was about 12 my dad was bulldozing some brush piles so we could burn them. Sometimes there would be rat's nests in the piles so I had my trusty WesternField 22 bolt action handy. As dad pushed into one of the piles a cotton tail came tearing out at a dead run about 25 yards away. I snapped a shot and the rabbit went end over end. Shot him right in the eye.

quote:

Originally posted by Wendell Reich:
I'm not going to bother. You wouldn't believe me anyway.

You'll have to wait to read my book An Adventurous Life. However, I haven't started writing it because I'm still too busy living it!

I did once relate on AR the story of the green snake that fell out of a tree into my lap while riding in the front seat of an open Land Cruiser in Tanzania back in '01 and the cluster that followed.

Then there was the time in RSA in 2003 when I stopped a charge with a brain shot using #12 birdshot from a POS chinese made 12 gauge pumpgun at two yards while 3 unarmed PHs were yelling bloody hell and the hounds were going berserk -it's on video.

Or the time in Mozambique in '05 when the young pilot loaded four of us and all our gear into the plane with an outside temperature of between 115F-120F - I had two temp gauges with me. At the halfway point of the takeoff run I calmly told him over the headset intercom the plane wasn't going to make it and he needed to shut it down - we came to rest 15 yards off the end of the dirt runway with a small tree 3 feet in front of the right wing.

And I haven't even mentioned africa safari nine times in six countries during the last century, but you get the idea.

Have you wrestled a crocodile too? Do you have an alias? A nom de plume? Thomas . . . ?

MJines-

No, but I have been 100'+ below the Pacific with sharks in open water. Yes, given to me when I commanded SpecOps units: Iceman. No, I would use my real name. Thomas who?

Didn't you have a misfire or double-tap on an Ele once upon a time?

The title of the OP is "Things people have troubles believing" which is why people have encouraged me to write a book for many years. When I left home at 15 I decided I would live an adventurous life, learn a lot about many things and fight in a war. I have and continue to do so, although age is slowing me down some and I am paying for the 50 years of abuse to my body that followed. Somewhere along the line I earned three college and university degrees and a college teaching credential. What a GREAT COUNTRY!

Cheers

This thread is actually an offshoot of another thread. Apparently the joke was lost upon you. I will just wait for your book to come out in a movie.

Last year in Zimbabwe My wife executed a perfect brain shot on her croc. 30 minutes later I made my way to him. I walked up and down him. Stuck my finger in the bullet hole and even played in his mouth. I shut his mouth and was standing on his head when he threw me off. Thinking it was just nerves I stood back on his back. He stood up with me on him and started walking towards the water. I jumped off and grabbed his leg to pull him back up the bank. Bad Idea, he nearly took my arm off. My wife and unarmed ph finally made it to me and we wrestled the croc for 5 minutes thinking he would pass out only to let him go to the water. We recovered him 6 hours later.

Day 4 of the safari we had dogs chasing a cat. He held up in a cave. We threw rocks in and flushed him out. the dogs chased him off. we quickly jumped down in front of his cave at which point we noticed the dogs were coming back. Come to find out the leopard wanted back in his cave and we were standing in front of it. I shot my leopard at 10 yards at a dead charge. Even got it on video and put it on you tube.

last day of the safari my wife leopard held up in a crevice. We scaled the rock outcropping he was on. As we approached he jumped up through the crevice and landed on top with us all. He took a quick look and locked in on me. He was only 7 paces away. Next he jumped straight for me. All I remember was the sound of my wifes gun and the leopard falling right in front of me. The bullet went in between his front legs and exited his back. If my wife hesitated a split second I would have had a full grown male leopard in perfect shape on top of me pissed off. and all that happened in the same safari. Im heading back for another leopard hound hunt in may and hopefully get one more charge. This time with a bow.

Several years ago I had been hunting on a 180 acre place a friend was letting me hunt, just south of the Red River, up in Montague county Texas. As I got ready to head home after the mornings hunt I drove west to a county road that headed south, that would get me headed back home.

I had gone about two miles from the pavement, when I saw some deer moving thru the brush in the pasture on the east side of the road. As I got up to them, I noticed something white walking around in the brush with the deer.

I did not have a camera of any kind with me, but as I got even with the animals, I realized that I was looking at a white deer. At first I thought it was possibly a white fallow deer that had got loose from a high fence place a few miles further to the south.

The longer I looked, because I had came to a complete stop, the less it looked like a fallow. By this time I had got hold of my binoculars and focused on the animal. At first I thought it was an albino white tail doe, but as I got to looking closer, it had normal colored eyes, a black nose and dark colored hooves. It was a doe, so no antlers.

I told a few folks about it, not many because I knew the kind of comments that would come back, but I made my mind up that day, that during the remaining years I hunted that area, if I ever saw that white doe again, people would believe me, because I was going to shoot the dang thing even if it meant a fine and spending the night in jail for shooting it from the road.

Stomper,

Can you put up a link to your leopard charge?

Reposted from my Cameroon trip report:

Snakes, Witches & Whirlwinds
The day of December 28th had started with an early and easy warthog kill, but it would turn out to be a very, very long day. After killing the warthog they guys butchered it into about 7 pieces and hung it in a tree. We continued on and cut a path directly to the north looking for signs of poachers. After about five hours we began to veer towards the main road that leads to camp.

The sun was directly overhead and it had become a foot slogging march. As we neared a knoll a huge whirlwind kicked up about two hundred yards away. Because the area had been recently burned all the trees had dropped their leaves. I watched in awe as the whirlwind was carried the leaves hundreds of feet into the air.

The small tornado gained strength and spun past us only 50 yards away. I looked over to the other guys in wide-eyed amazement. I can only describe the look of distress on Enis’s face as being pure dread.

I asked Remy what the problem was. He said there are a lot of “beliefs” in their culture surrounding whirlwinds. He didn’t seem to want to elaborate and I didn’t push it. It was clear that Enis regarded it as a bad omen.

I quietly fell in line behind Remy and we marched off with Enis in the rear. They were in a hurry to leave the scene and I was thinking how silly superstitions can be. We had walked about 50 yards over the freshly burned worm-mounds when something just off the trail caught my eye.

I hit full idiot mode as I swung wide, pointing and exclaiming, “Ehh! Ehh! Ehh! Enis looked in the direction I was pointing then looked at me as though I had gone mad. He must have still had some faith left in me because he swung even wider and got behind me.

We could both now see the slender, tan colored snake coiled just two yards off the trail. His head was raised and he was frozen at the base of a small tree. In his position we could not see him from the trail until we had walked past the tree.

Standing there on the scorched earth looking at this snake, thinking of all the hours I had spent stumbling through grass so thick that I couldn’t see anything below my knees, I felt as though a ghost had kissed me on the neck.

I asked if the snake was poisonous and from about 15 feet behind me Remy assured me that it was. I asked if we should kill it and Remy and Enis nodded emphatically, but Remy said that he was worried that his rice loaded shotgun might not be up to the task. I told them that I could shoot it with the 375. I was surprised when Remy asked me if I could really kill it with the rifle. Hadn’t I been impressing these guys with my fine shooting for the past week?

Enis and Remy stood well behind me ready to run. I took aim(really, really careful aim) at the top of the top coil as I figured the bullet would hit about half an inch low at the distance(10 yards). I fired and the snake bounced and writhed nearly shot in half.

As we moved in the snake turned and began to bite on the tail side of the wound(I remember his mouth was pink). After a minute the front half of the snake turned belly up and I got out my camera. I half jokingly asked if anyone wanted to grab the tail to stretch the snake out for a photo.

Enis(the guy who when sissy at the sight of the whirlwind) marched right in and grabbed the tail that sat motionless about 4 inches away from the head. As soon as he grabbed the tail the dead snake came back to life and the front half turned right side up and started to slither. Who says snakes aren’t sneaky?

At this point I was ready to give up on the photo-op and run away like a schoolgirl. Luckily Remy picked up a small, flimsy stick and moved in for the kill. I began to unpack my two(yes, two) snakebite kits. After about a dozen swings Remy was able to get his willow branch to come down on the head just right and we had a dead snake.

I took three quick photos and we got the hell out of there.

I didn’t see any more snakes for the rest of the trip, but for the remainder of that day my mind placed a snake at the base of every single tree I walked past. Talk about a long day!

I told Remy and Enis that I felt guilty for breaking my “live and let live” snake policy, but they were sure that we had done a good deed as that snake was sure to populate the entire countryside with vicious killer snakes. Through research after returning home I have found that the snake I killed was a Jameson’s Mamba.

Mike Jines,

I did read your Thomas Hammond post when it first appeared but did not draw the correlation, so wasn't sure what you were on about. I got it now.

As to the movie, it would have to star the late Steve McQueen, around the time of his The Sand Pebbles and Bullitt films. And that ain't gonna happen.

That the checks Aaron gets to host World Of Sports Afield will actually cash.
Oh, the humanity!

Not Africa, but I had a friend in college that could shoot a BB up in the air , rechamber another and hit the first BB in the air with the second shot. True story.

quote:

Originally posted by Dave Fulson:
You are dead to me Rick!! LOL

Dave, If I had any feelings, they'd be hurt. You are like me, you have a face for radio.
Besides, I can't be dead to you yet, I still have the rest of the hunt to pay for.

My first and best (ever) shot to date. When I was 12 years old I went on my first hunt with my Dad with a Remington Nylon 66 (remember those?). We were groundhog hunting and as we came over a small hill I spotted one about 120 yards away running right to left towards his hole. I throw the gun up but because it was scoped I couldn’t get on him at all. Being 12 and not knowing any better I just looked down the barrel and did a snapshot at him and was shocked when he just collapsed dead a foot from his hole. When we walked up to him we looked at him for 5 minutes and couldn’t find a bullet hole or any blood. My Dad starting joking that I scared him to death when I noticed the tiniest drop of blood in his left ear. The bullet had gone in his ear and killed him instantly.

I’ve been hunting over 40 years and have never made a shot like that since.

You make a good point Rick. You shall not be dead to me until you pay your safari bill in full. And do not even think of putting 'stop payments' on your checks like I am going to do on Aaron's.

NOTHING any of you have posted tops the most preposterous story in the history of AR:

That Nixon stole his client's (llamapacker) traveler's checks and then tried to cash them.

http://forums.accuratereloadin...281059321#1281059321

Everyone who has since hunted with Nixon has had a wonderful hunt. Not a single person has reported a theft.

Of course, if Nixon had stolen the checks and had payment denied due to a theft, the last thing he would do is bring it up with us, which if you recall is what happened.

The luckiest shot I ever made was on a white tail with a .243. Deer came up out of a draw quartering towards me, I put the crosshairs just inside the front shoulder at 80 yards and fired. She flipped and stayed down on the spot. My son in law got there first and hollered that she was gutshot. I said no way in hell. Upon inspection the shell entered right where I put it, went thru her and sliced the hide like a knife exiting the other side. The entire gut pile was lying beside her, spilled out. We just had to cut it off. The only danger I ever had was an accident, (we think). I was entering a bowling alley as a teenager and a high power rifle round hit and splintered the door inches from my head as I opened it. We think it was from a stray shot from the hollow a little over 1/4 mile away.

One day I was out hunting striped squirrels (head & body about 6 inches long) with a friend - with a .22 air rifle - when we saw one on a big Banyan (Ficus) tree with areal roots hanging down. As I lined up the peep sight on the squirrel it startyed to run. I followed it and squeezed the trigger just as I saw it leap for the next branch. And then - "thop" "squeek" & flop. The squirrel was nailed in mid air!

I smoked a coyote running at 150 yds
with a Ruger single 6 in .22
and a witness

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbr71gYh_lA
if you pay close attention you can see the leopard walking in front of the dogs and sit down. Then he gets up and walks some more. Finally at the last minute he shoots over the rock. The only thing the ph could figure out is that he heard us and decided to come at us. He originally came over the rock at an angle but instantly turned to come at us. The shot was about 10 yards at a pretty good speed

quote:

Originally posted by Jerry Huffaker:
Not Africa, but I had a friend in college that could shoot a BB up in the air , rechamber another and hit the first BB in the air with the second shot. True story.

Jerry,

I thought everyone could do that?

On one occasion I had landed on Chikuni airstrip in the Bangweulu swamps with the pilot Wayne Grove to be greeted by the community who asked me to shoot an oversized Mamba that was troubling them. As luck would have it the snake made an aggressive appearance as we landed. Although I had a rifle I had just purchased a .357 Ruger Super Six revolver and fancied myself as a bit of a cowboy. Approaching the snake it reared up about four feet from the ground. I had a substantial audience and there was Wayne who flew most of us PH's throughout Zambia. My reputation would be ruined if I fluffed this shot. However being a clever cowboy I aimed at the mass of coils at the base of the snake, which presented a target the size of a football, and squeezed off a shot hitting the Mamba squarely between the eyes. A margin of error of about four feet.

I was then named 'the sniper' by the people of Chikuni and my reputation and respect was to be much inflated after this incident.

My only regret was not blowing the smoke off the end of the barrel.

Right after I got married back in 1968, I bought my wife Peggy a little Beretta 22 short pistol.
My dad and uncle took a few of us younger guys on a dove hunt that September down at R.C. Crab’s place near Coyanosa Texas. I brought along the pistol.

We were taking a lunch break by the vehicles and the youngsters were off shooting pistols. Now remember when you were in High School? You never called your friends by their first names, right? So Danny Yarbrough and I are shooting the little Beretta. I reloaded the little clip and a dove flew by I swung the pistol toward the bird and followed it.

This drew a terse challenge from Yarbrough. . . “Knight, you hit one of those birds with that pistol and I’ll eat him guts, feathers and all!” Without hesitation the next little flight of doves flew by from left to right, I took aim at the lead bird. Pow! The little Beretta barked and the dove folded up and went down. I look at the gun in my hand. No one was more surprised than me! Well, maybe the dove.

I called out, “Oh Yarbrough? How did you want that dove cooked?” Danny had turned and walked away having issued the challenge, and didn’t see the dove do down. He and several others examined the dove and found no wound. Only a small red bruise was found on top of the neck where it met the shoulder. The bullet had broken the bird’s neck and not broken the skin.

Best part of this event was that I got to rag Yarbrough for several years about not eating that dove, “guts feathers and all”!

This isn't a hunting story, but it involves a critter.

I was welding braces on the piling of the Manchester, Wa. fuel pier. These braces were about 30 feet underwater. I'm welding on a pile, when I suddenly couldn't move my arm. I called for the power to be turned off and opened the welding faceplate. An octopus had wound a tentacle 3 or 4 turns around my arm. I unwound it from my arm, gave it a push and watched him scuttle down the pile. I resumed welding and once again he's got my arm. I free myself, thinking what to do about him. Flash, a brilliant idea, he's grounded and I have a welding stinger in my hand. I called for power on and reached out and touched hin with the tip of the rod. In the blink of an eye he removed himself from the pile and attached himself to me. All eight arms wraped around my middle. I tell my tender you got to see this, come up on my hose. I swim out from under the pier and float up to the surface for him to see this big orange blob hanging on my stomach. After about 10 unsuccessful minutes of trying to get free of my guest, I decide to climb the ladder to the deck of the pier for help. After unscrewing my helmet, the two of us proceed to remove him. Our four hands against his eight arms. Unwind one, go for another and the free one would wrap around me. After about an hour of this Max Sennet comedy we finaly succeed. Getting a good look at him we estimated to be about 50 pounds and 12 to 14 feet across. He slitherd under the bull rail and splashed into the water. Last seen jetting through the water with his siphon. Defending my honor, I deny all sexual suggestions I've received about this incedent.

Dave