I had an amardillo climb over my feet and a bobcat plus fawn strolling by at 20 meters in Florida, once in Ontario I succeeded in calling in a wolf pack, never saw them but heard them howling while they approached. Then they circeled me to get wind and just disappeared. This I think was my most exciting hunting adventure so far.

The scariest one was an owl flying in from behind and landing on my head while sitting in an open treestand very early in the morning. They are completely silent, pretty scary. It even came back for another attempt, I was so scared I raised my arms and it flew away to a nearby tree.

I had an experience very similar to Red C.

In the late 60s some friends and I drew permits to hunt mule deer on a special hunt on part of a military reservation called McGregor Range, south of Alamogordo, New Mexico. It was a two-day hunt only. We had a tent camp, and the party included four hunters, my girlfriend and one of a friend's wife.

The first evening of the hunt we all got back with no good news, until the man and his wife came walking in. He had killed a nice buck he said and needed help to get it off the mountain.

It was almost dark. We had a full moon. We decided to eat, then the four of us would go back up the mountain to get the buck, have time for some sleep, then hunt the last day and hope to get lucky.

We parked our two vehicles facing the mountain and told the girls to turn the lights on for five minutes about every hour or so to give us a feel where we were.

That done, we started walking across the desert towards the base of the mountain, then began the climb. I looked back towards where we had come and already the four headlights had blended to two due to the distance. Another hour or so and we were on top, in the vicinity of the kill. The hunter then advised that he couldn't determine in the dark where he had left the buck. We hunted for another hour, then he told us the rest of the story. He had killed a smaller buck and begun dragging it, when the big buck jumped up. He killed it too (illegal), and dumped the smaller buck in a ravine. He said he could find the smaller buck for sure.

We were pretty pissed but agreed to get the smaller buck and he could go back and get the larger buck after daylight.

After another hour searching, we found neither buck, and it was past midnight. I told him we were done. It was his problem. None of the rest of us had a buck, and we had one day left to hunt. We started off the mountain. In the distance, we saw one speck of light although two cars were parked side-by-side with their lights on.

As I came down the mountain-side I suddenly picked-up a movement to my left. It was a light object about 100 yards away. It was moving parallel to me. After a few hundred yards it still remained across from me. When I moved, it moved. When I stopped, it stopped. It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. The other guys were strung-out somewhere behind me so I had no chance to get a second opinion.

I kept coming down the mountain, and the object kept its distance, but kept coming with me. I knew missles and drones were fired and landed on the range, and initially thought it must be a remnant of something like that.

Finally I hit the flat, and the object suddenly was there one minute, then gone the next. The lights on the cars started to separate and I could tell I had just a few miles left. I was beat. I couldn't tell where the others were, but knew my brother would be O.K. and one friend was pretty switched-on. The other man, the one that had shot the two bucks, was of no interest to me.

I got back to the cars, got something to drink, and sat in my car with my girlfriend waiting for the rest of the guys to show. I told her I had seen something real spooky. After describing it, she told me I must have been mistaken, or it was some type UFO.

Within the hour my brother came walking in, and then the other two. While my brother was having some water and catching his breath, he asked me if I had seen anything strange coming off the mountain. I told him I had seen something damn weird. He said he saw the same thing. It spooked the Hell out of him. He even started walking towards it at one point he said and it moved away, then turned and followed him as he started down the mountain again. To this day neither one of us have figured out what it was, but it was something.

This one is from I guy I work with.

A local state park near me has an archery deer management hunt. Mark got a tag there, and has been going up on his days off to hunt.

Well, last weekend, he was hunting a real back woods area, and sees an older couple sneak within 20 yards of his stand. Since one of the rules of the hunt is you can't disturb the regular park goers, Mark decides to just stay quiet and let them pass.

Well.. They started to make love within 10 feet of his deer stand. He was so shocked he didn't say a word. They then packed up and left, never seeing the guy in full camo 10 feet above them.

He gave up hunting that spot after that!

quote:

Originally posted by NEJack:
This one is from I guy I work with.

A local state park near me has an archery deer management hunt. Mark got a tag there, and has been going up on his days off to hunt.

Well, last weekend, he was hunting a real back woods area, and sees an older couple sneak within 20 yards of his stand. Since one of the rules of the hunt is you can't disturb the regular park goers, Mark decides to just stay quiet and let them pass.

Well.. They started to make love within 10 feet of his deer stand. He was so shocked he didn't say a word. They then packed up and left, never seeing the guy in full camo 10 feet above them.

He gave up hunting that spot after that!

That was gentlemanly of him to not disturb the couple. Had it been a couple of gay men, I wonder if your buddy would have stayed silent.


Yeah, me neither.

KG

-While in the outback of Australia had a 'flyover' of fruit bats at sunset. It was a non-stop stream of them from horizon to horizon and it went on well after dark. You could hear them sqweeking and you could smell them (an ammonia like odor about them). I have no idea how you would number how many there were but it was in the millions.

-While on a pig shoot in Hawaii I got to view the remains of a shot down Japanese Zero. Not necessarily 'weird', but certainly something not seen every day.

This one just came to mind....

In 1990 I was hunting a special draw archery hunt in Missouri it was 10,000 acr. reserve and was to control deer. The draw quota was 500.

The first day after I killed a doe and was back at camp just knapping, an ambulance went flying by. The gravel road was 10 miles long and the closest hospital was 40 miles after that.

An hour went by then it left out just a flying. We all asked around and later found out a hunter shot another hunter in the calf with a broadhead!!

We all thought NO WAY!!!! How could this happen.
!!

Turns out years later the man who was shot went to work in the same mold shop as I and we worked together for a couple years before he moved on.

He told me he was walking around looking for a place to set a stand and felt a HIT!! Like a punch in the leg but when he looked down he seen the arrow half way through his leg!!

He couldn't compute what happend and reached down and grabbed the shaft and could see it was through his leg and he was bleeding. He was a marine soldier for years and quickly sat down and applied his belt for a turniquete.

He yelled at the top of his voice "Who the F**K just shot me get down here and help get me out of here. A scared man came to his aide and had a lame ass excuse for what happend and since this was before cell phones he left him there to get help. Help came and from the moment he was shot to local clinic where he received blood and then was shipped to the nearest hospital was 4 hrs!!!

He missed 4 weeks of work and had a large medical bill. The man was not charged with anything and when my friend sued him for bills loss of income ect. My friends attorney did a background check on the shooter to find him a lifelong unemployed deadbeat without a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out.

When I was in college, my friends and I would go armadillo hunting at my buddy's ranch. One afternoon we came upon this giant armadillo sitting in the middle of a pasture. Four of us shot at this thing with 12 gauge shotguns from no more than 15 feet. From out of the dust cloud that armadillo charged us, we were all out of ammo and we turned tail and ran. He took off into the bushes and was never seen again. 4 adults 12 rounds of 12 gauge and one tough armadillo.

The observation that started this thread ia a classic example of "ball lightning". It is a rare phenomenon and still not well understood but is fascinating. I am 66 years old and have never seen it but it is well documented now and Wikipedia has a good discussion.

Let me preface this with a dial up warning. I was incredibly lucky to have a camera with me for this event, and as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. I will take it down if the pictures are too much....

I have hunted and fished all my life. I easily spend 100+ days afield every year. As with anyone that spends time outdoors, I have seen my share of neat and amazing things. A day last fall, however, was one of the most amazing 'nature moments' I have ever had.

I was fishing on Lake Berryessa in Northern California. The smallmouth bite was starting to pick up after a long, hot summer. I usually only fish Berryessa in the spring. Summer is the start of archery deer season, and fall and winter are devoted to bird hunting. The only reason I was still fishing is the weather was unusually warm and my duck hunting options were poor.

I am running my boat through a cove. I had noticed that there were lots of migrants on the lake; ducks, geese, coots, and a host of birds of prey. There is always a handful of resident, year round birds, but this was different. As I motored through the cove, I scared up a large flock of coots. Big deal, right?

Out of the corner of my eye I catch a bird flying noticeably faster then the coots. It is diving right in amongst them. My raptor knowledge was in its infancy then and I first assumed it was a Cooper's Hawk. I later learned it was a Peregrine Falcon. He flew right in with the coots, calmly flew up behind one, and snagged it out of the air.

Being an avid photographer, I was all over it! It isn't easy running a boat at 25 MPH and taking pictures at the same time. Somehow, I ended up with these:


The chase:



Score:



As if this wasn't enough, all this commotion caught the attention of a mature Red Tailed Hawk. The RTH promptly sent the Peregrine packing and took off with the prize.





I was speechless. I called a buddy on the phone and ran him through the scenario. It was probably the neatest thing I have ever witnessed in nature. He reminds me that the Peregrine is probably still hungry. I actually felt a little bad, and it probably wasn't the most sporting thing to do, but I made another run through the cove and scared all the coots up again.

As you can imagine, the Peregrine didn’t' disappoint.




He took it to the other side of the cove, away from the robbing RTH. He is mantling (protecting with his wings) over the coot. I could see through the viewfinder that the Peregrine was getting nervous. For no apparent reason, he gets up and flies away, leaving the coot behind. I look up and see why....

Golden Eagle:




I am freaking out by this point, totally dumbfounded by what I have seen. I knew that no one would believe me if I didn't have the pictures. I'm snapping away, amazed that I was 30' from a Golden Eagle. He landed so close that my prime lens was too much and I was clipping parts of the bird to fit it in the camera frame. The eagle was not able to find the coot, which had scurried into the rocks by this time. All at once, the eagle was up and away. Unbelievably, I looked up to see this, one of my favorite pictures I have ever taken:

Excellent - timing is everything!!

quote:

Originally posted by NEJack:
This one is from I guy I work with.

A local state park near me has an archery deer management hunt. Mark got a tag there, and has been going up on his days off to hunt.

Well, last weekend, he was hunting a real back woods area, and sees an older couple sneak within 20 yards of his stand. Since one of the rules of the hunt is you can't disturb the regular park goers, Mark decides to just stay quiet and let them pass.

Well.. They started to make love within 10 feet of his deer stand. He was so shocked he didn't say a word. They then packed up and left, never seeing the guy in full camo 10 feet above them.

He gave up hunting that spot after that!

Why?

I'd have brought my camera next time....

Wildlife photography
Post it on youtube as a message for people to "look up"

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quote:

Originally posted by M Ireland:

Stunning shots, just stunning. Thanks for sharing. In Boston in front of the office I have seen RT hawks and PFs battle it out over the Granary Burying ground (2 PFs harassing the hawk, mostly, interestingly enough). Witnessing bird battles downtown is a nice little break from work!

The most amazing thing I have personally witnessed was when I was dove hunting opening weekend in Breackenridge,Texas a few years back. Well I shot one and he kinda glided toward the fence line and landed in the tall grass on the edge of the field. Well before I could get over there to pick him up a large hawk swooped down and grabbed him. It all hapened so fast I couldn't beleave it, but I figured he must have needed it more than me.

While not amazing I got to watch some deer hunting drama unfold before me this morning. This was the opening day for Michigan firearm deer season. I was in a tree stand on private property in second-growth woods north of Port Hope in the Thumb area. It was windy and wet and I hadn't seen a thing since daylight. Around 9:30AM I heard two shots about 200 yards to my front. Seconds later I caught glimpses of a deer coming towards me with a 'it's been hit' gait but then it disappeared from view in some ferns and brush a little over 100 yards away. It was one of those tense 'where did it go' situations for over 20 minutes. Then from my vantage point I saw a hunter approaching, slowly trailing the route of the deer. As he approached the spot where I suspected the deer had gone down he suddenly stopped as the wounded deer stood up. I watched as he put a finisher into it.

Certainly not the first time I've seen somebody else shoot a deer but this was my first 'third person' vantage point, kind of like watching a hunting video. He too had permission to hunt this property and I assisted him field prepping the deer including capping it with my revolver as it was slow in expiring. It was all the real-time hunting experience without being the one actually shooting.

I've described this before on this forum, so bear with me.

Short version........I "shot" a cock pheasant without a gun.

We were on a shoot near Katy, Texas. The pheasant were pen-raised, stupid, and weak-winged. We finished the day, and had shot about 70 of 75 birds that had been released for the hunt. (I do not recommend hunting pen-raised pheasant to anyone. It's a joke.)

The vehicles had been parked in the bar-ditch, beside the highway, and our host had set-up a cooker and was doing sausagees while the hunters were coming in. One man had not shown yet, as we broke-down our shotguns and stowed them. Then someone said, "There's Bob" and I turned around to see him step through a barb-wire fence in some brush. The cock pheasant flushed out from under him and sailed right over the tops of our heads. I grabbed the gun stock out of my case, shouldered it, swung on the bird, and yelled, "Blam! Blam! Blam!". The cock turned its head and stared at me, and flew right into a telephone wire breaking its neck. It fell on the highway flopping, and one of the guides walked over and picked it up. We were on the ground laughing. Thank God I had plenty of witnesses.

This is a great thread!! Keep 'em coming!

Shot an elk from across a canyon, at dusk, in snow fall one late November in the Selway.

Tied the horses, climbed down our side of the canyon, crossed the creek ( getting wet in the process ) and climbed up the other side to the elk. Dressed the elk, climbed down the canyon, crossed the creek ( got wet again, this time through our clothing and to the skin ) and returned to the horses.

It was 10 PM.

Realized we were,wet, cold, and a long way from camp. Stomped around in the snow for a while, talking about what to do. Decided to press on.

Should have stopped and made a fire and warmed up.

Made camp by 0230hrs or so. Barely. Hypothermia big time.

Needed help to get down off the horse, to get to the tent, to get undressed, to get dressed-- to survive. Didn't have a clue as to who I was or where I was.

Dumb decisions that could have cost us our lives.

I did a poor job of loading boxes of 20Ga for quail years ago. I had bought a Remington 1100 for a steal. It had a full choke barrel, but the price was great and I intended to replace the barrel later anyway. I ordered a new MEC reloader and prayed it would get in before the season started. It barely made it; came in the afternoon before the season opened. I was up until about 2:00am setting it up and loading No. 8s. I then got a few hours sleep, and we got after them at daybreak.

The blues were thick and we were slaughtering them. Then I noticed my problem. I had not set the wad pressure correctly, and about every fourth shot went "poop" and you could see the shot fly about twenty feet out the end of the barrel. I filed that away in my brain and kept running and shooting. The problem finally caught up with me. I pulled the trigger, it went "poop", and followed with a fast second shot and the end of the barrel blew-up. The wad on the first shot had hung in the full choke. The second shot removed the wad and part of the barrel. The 1100 being vent-rib, held the top of the barrel firm, the bottom of the barrel was pointing straight down. Once I recovered my senses, we kept hunting quail. The gun shot fine, but I didn't try any fast follow-up shots. It was a Hell of a hunt, but a strange day. I "replaced" the barrel by sawing the blown (full choke) portion off, making a skeet barrel and bought a new modified barrel.

Did a poor job of loading some 12 Ga. shells a year or so later; not enough wad pressure again. (What is it with me?)

Again not all were bad, about one out of ten maybe. The blues were running and I just kept hunting and tried to ignore the one that went "poop" and slung the shot out the barrel. Being smarter now, I watched for the wad to follow the shot on the misfires. Suddenly one didn't.

Proud of myself, I stopped and looked down the barrel and saw it was blocked by the wad. I could not find anything to clear it with. I finally came up with the bright idea that I had enough lung power to blow it back out the other way.

Too much lung power actually. When I blew, the wad slapped the face of the receiver bolt, and it automatically jacked another shell into the chamber. For an instant I still had the barrel in my mouth, and a live one looking at my tonsils. I couldn't get away from that gun fast enough. I don't think I stopped cussing myself or shaking for about five minutes. I quit hunting immediately and walked back to my truck trying to figure out a better solution than blowing my brains out if another wad hung.

I discovered I was a genius, raised the hood of my truck, and hunted the rest of the day with the oil dipstick hanging out of my back pocket.

scariest thing i ever seen was in ohio hunting deer.The land became overpopulated with people so i went through the wooded section to get to my truck.While heading out i came across a guy leaning against a tree asleep with his shotgun leaning into his belly.Last time i hunted in ohio

quote:

Originally posted by TBEAR99:
scariest thing i ever seen was in ohio hunting deer.The land became overpopulated with people so i went through the wooded section to get to my truck.While heading out i came across a guy leaning against a tree asleep with his shotgun leaning into his belly.Last time i hunted in ohio

TBEAR, if you rule out entire states because you come across a slob there, you will soon run out of places to hunt

no i didn't rule out ohio totally.Not long after i moved back to ny where the deer are much bigger in size then the area i was in.If i hunt there again it will either be someones land or a outfit hunt.I was on state hunting land where i seen this happen

Scary is when you drive over the railroad track and hear a twelve gauge go off in the trunk of your car. The gun's owner was never asked to hunt with our group again.

What is it with these guys that mess with their guns while in a vehicle. My best friend, who lived in western Oklahoma and some other guys were hunting quail. They had gotten in his truck to go to another place. My friend said the guy in front with him kept fidgeting with his gun and my friend told him "your going to shoot a hole in the floor if you keep doing that." Sure enough, in a couple of minutes, BANG! The guy did, indeed shoot a hole in the floor of the pickup and also shot the transmission coolant line. They were all lucky he just killed the pickup.

P.S. This is the most interesting thread I've ever read! I didn't dream there would be so many stories when I started it. Keep em coming. It's the firs thing I check every morning.

quote:

Originally posted by DIYASUB:
Scary is when you drive over the railroad track and hear a twelve gauge go off in the trunk of your car. The gun's owner was never asked to hunt with our group again.

One more and then I'm done.

In 1974 or 75 I was working out of Hobbs, New Mexico. I got a call from our office in Farmington to see if I could make a run for them to a rig northwest of Colfax. I din't know where Colfax was, and wasn't happy about the thought of a two-day round trip, but agreed.

It turns out the rig was about 20+ miles up the Vermejo River, straight through the heart of the Vermejo Park Ranch. It was owned by Pennzoil at the time; before the Ted Turner era.

I drove to Cimarron, met the drilling superintendent, and talked business. The last thing he said before I went to my room was, that if I liked wild game I was in for a treat. He said there were plenty of elk, deer and turkey. I could hardly sleep, and got up before daylight so I could catch everything moving.

He had told me to drive nine miles toward Raton and look for a small ranch house on the left.

When I got there at the locked gate, the old, one-eyed ranch foreman came out and invited me to have coffee. I sat there dying to go, yet itching to stay. He had worked the Vermejo for over thirty years, and told stories of early snows and streams of elk and deer feeding out of every draw onto the flats; too many to count.

I saw it was light outside, excused myself as best I could, and started my drive up the Vermejo. I drove about three miles before the road started up the mountains and began to criss-cross the river. You could tell where Indians had made their camps and the smoke from their fires blackened the ledges above. It was like driving back in time. I started seeing turkey in the distance, and a coyote or two, then some mule deer flushed across the road.

I was pumped, and rubber-necking every which way trying to see everything I could, when a 6 X 6 bull jumped up out of the river bed on my right and charged across the road in front of my car; within thirty foot of the bumper. I was shocked. It went right to the tree line about twenty-five yards off to my left, and then decided I was the one that should leave. He spun around and faced my car. I could hardly breathe. He just stood there looking down his nose at me.

I rolled down the window, and thought, "here you go big boy". I reached out the window and slapped the outside of the car door to spook him.

He didn't spook. He flinched, then dug-in. He lowered his head and began to slowly roll his massive rack. He then, like a fighting bull, started tearing the turf up with his front legs, throwing sod, grass, mud, small limbs and everything else back past his rump.

I couldn't believe it; but put the car back in gear, just in case he did the unthinkable, and charged the car. I reached out the window again and slapped the door. He stopped pawing, but kept rolling his rack, showing me every point, showing me he meant business. After we eyeballed each other a little more, he indicated I wasn't worth his time and gracefully spun around, raised his nose to lay his rack along his rump and trotted into the trees. When he was gone, I don't know if I could have stood up. I wondered when I was going to wake up. This couldn't have happened. I would have killed for a camera.

I drove on, slowly, enjoying every minute. It was like driving in a Chevy in the 1870s, not the 1970s; unreal. Game around every corner.

I saw more elk at a distance, but nothing heart-pounding. I drove a little faster, knowing I was running late. Then I came around a bend and saw two coyotes trotting down the road in front of me. I slowed down, but kept gaining on them. They didn't pay any attention until I was about 50 yards behind them. They looked over their shoulders, fanned-out left and right and let me ease through them. I lost track of them, then looked in my rearview mirror. There they were, back in the road behind me, following me.

I kept driving and got to the rig about thirty minutes later. I could hardly think about business. I just wanted to tell the hands about the elk and the coyotes. Everyone had stories, most better than mine. They drove that ranch road every day.

I finished my business, got back into the car and started out. About twenty minutes later, there are my two pals in the road in front of me, trotting towards me. I just let the car idle towards them. When one flared-off to the side, I stopped the car. The last coyote looked at his buddy, looked at me, and did nothing. I killed the engine, and eased the door open. The coyote looked nervous, but didn't bolt. I moved slowly to the front of the car, and had him about twenty-five yards in front of me. I started talking to him quietly, rubbed my fingers together like I had something, and squatted down by the front bumper. He stretched his neck, trying to smell what wasn't there, and took a few tentative steps towards me. I kept whispering to him and rubbing my fingers together. He started coming.

I didn't have a plan, but needed one, as he narrowed the gap between us. At ten yards he picked up each foot and placed it slowly and carefully in my direction. At five yards, he stopped. He didn't like it, but he wanted what might be in my hand.

I couldn't think, I could only stay totally focused on him, because as he got closer he became more agitated, more alive. Once he got within about six feet of me his ears went back, he showed me all his teeth, and his eyes were on fire. When my fingers moved, he jumped like he'd felt a hot wire, but he kept coming, inches at a time.

When I had him about two feet off my fingers, I couldn't take it anymore. I could hear him breathe, and it wasn't a friendly sound. His eyes were watching every part of me, but mainly looking right back at mine. I've never felt anything like it. If I stayed down and quiet, he was coming. If I kept my hand out, he would take it. We had gone as far as we could in getting to know each other, and he had won.

I stood up. He exploded away from me, throwing dirt on my boots. I never felt so relieved in my life. I still had all my fingers.

That's when I noticed how badly I was sweating. I leaned against the car and watched him join his mate. They watched me a little longer then moved into the trees.

I got back in my car, and just sat there. That day was heaven for me. I just wanted one thing; badly; someone to have shared that experience with me.

I sat there wishing I was rich; wishing I worked for Pennzoil. If I had known, I would have wished I was Ted Turner's younger brother. The worthless one that could spend all his days wandering the Vermejo River. But, I wasn't any of those things, and I had to go back to the life I had, where brave bull elk and fearless coyotes never challenged me on their terms, and won.

I was glad they weren't a part of that world. They deserved better, and they had it better. They obviously didn't see many humans, and those they did see obviously didn't particularly impress them.

Ted Turner sold all the Charolais cattle, and put bison on the pasture land. I'm thinking about going back to Vermejo Park Ranch before I die just to relive what once was.

OK, this one is 100% true, though some will likely not believe me. It's also not hunting related; I was on a fishing trip. Pittsburg, NH, a handful of miles south of the Quebec border and just off the banks of the 1st Connecticut Lake, under the stars with light clouds. No moon. Fire down to glowing coals. Buddy and I are just stargazing and thinking about another great day of chasing wild trout and landlocked salmon. We are both lying on our bags, looking roughly east. What the...There, coming at us from the distant black horizon is a great shooting star, glowing fiery. We've all see shooting stars, right? Before you can point out the thing to the person you're with, ziiiip, it's gone. Even a long one with a tail rarely lasts longer than a second. Well, this one did not burn out like that. My buddy and I grabbed each other's shirts and shared a look before turning our attention back to the 'shooting star', which *kept coming at us*. I stood up, incredulous, and kept staring. My buddy got up then, and he and I continued to watch. By now maybe 8 seconds had passed by. It was now nearing our position, and I actually remember feeling a bit scared. The thing passed overhead, *underneath the clouds*. It was actually lighting up the bottom of the clouds with colors. I saw green, orange, yellow and red fiery gases and small pieces of this thing ripping off of it. It looked like a black mass, but on raging fire. When it went almost overhead, it looked to be the size of a bus, or trailer home, but slightly sort of more an elongated shape as opposed to being more round. I could HEAR the damned thing ripping through the atmosphere, kind of like a tearing noise. We spun to watch as it roared over the top of the hill, on the side of which we were camped on. Just before it exited our line of sight, which was perhaps a second later, it clearly split in two pieces. My buddy and I looked at each other in absolute fascination/horror, or stunned amazement. I didn't know what to think, or do. I *know* parts of this thing hit the ground. It had to have, with how big it was when it went over our heads under the clouds. I considered calling someone (NASA?, the meterological people, the Army?) This was in the days before cell phones were really commercially available and possessed by the masses (it was in `87 or thereabouts when this happened) and we were miles from any payphone, if we could even find one, so instead just sat down all freaked out and asked of each other what we saw, which of course was the same thing. Sleep would not comne for hours, though I was exhausted and ready to call it a night minutes before seeing the thing. I still wonder about if someone, some goobermint agency or the FAA or something has some record of what we saw entering the atmosphere).

Now, what I saw was what I believe to be a large meteor (relatively speaking of course). But then I consider that in order for it to be still that large when it was in the atmosphere, some astronomy center, public or private, somewhere would have been tracking it, no? They do that stuff, don't they? The only other plausible thing to me was a satellite, and if it was of any military origin, and they knew it was going to hit in a relatively remote rural area, they'd not send out a warning/alert.

Anyway, for the rest of that trip I could not concentrate on much other than reliving over and over in my head what I'd seen that night. I can still see it and hear it in my mind's eye. After I got home from the trip (back to Boston) I sort of loosely looked at the news to see if anyone else reported seeing it, but nothing was ever said. If it was, I never heard about it.

I'd give my finger to have been able to have followed up and been able to actually find the remains of the thing. Again, I KNOW parts of it made contact with the earth. No way it couldn't have, given its size. Anyway, believe it or not, on my life, it happened, and that's my contribution to the weird occurence thread.

Cheers,

KG

I was in full camo, bow hunting deer from a treestand in central Wisconsin late one afternoon. Deer were not moving and it was getting dark fast, so I lip-squeaked a few times, hoping to call in red fox. I suddenly felt a slight wind on the back of my neck and heard scratching noises on the branch I was sitting on, turned my head to look, and there sits a Great Horned Owl, about 2 feet from my face, staring at me. I almost fell out of the tree!

Back in 1984, pre-children, my wife and I went to Yellowstone in late May. While driving through a meadow, we saw numerous Elk feeding, and one cow was splashing into the creek, then getting out. She had a calf in the water which was hanging onto the side of the bank with it's front hooves. I pulled over and ran back to get a closer look, without the camera as it was rain/snowing. This is the only time in my life I have ever heard a cow elk bugle. She was bugling like crazy. A distant Elk responded with its own bugle one time. As I watched, the calf lost its grip on the bank and started slowly spining in circles as it was swept downstream, lifting its head out of the water a few times, each time getting weaker. The cow is frantically following the calf downstream, bugling. They both went around a bend and I lost sight, but could still hear her.

I don't really have anything to contribute to this thread, I just wanted you guys to know this is probably the best thread I've ever read on this forum or any other. Thanks!

btt

About 10 yr.s ago 0500 found me creeping across an alfalfa field to my favorite ladder stand. It was foggy, raining and pitch black. I was using no light because I knew the spot well and because there were deer standing all around in the dark grazing. I wanted to settle in early and nail the big buck he'd been scouting at the first light. Moving with practiced silence I came to the base of the stand, eased up under the comfort rest with his rifle in one trip and sat listening. I could hear the deer chewing right in front of me. This was going to be good. Then ever so slowly I lifted my saftey belt to buckle it. One tiny metallic click was made...followed by the most God-awful, indescribable noise going off immediately above my head. You would have been amazed at the agility with which aged Holzauge went down the ladder backwards while carrying his rifle. One rung from the bottom the largest coon in my experience landed directly in front of ladder. I shot back up the ladder backwards. I still don't know how. The coon pee I was sprinkling around the base of my stand had made the big coon so comfortable that he was up there waiting for a girlfriend and though that's what I was until I rattled the buckle. He made the noise not meant for human ears and when I moved suddenly he panicked and leapt from the tree landing in front of me. As soon a I realized I hadn't died in an alien attack I giggled like a 8-year-old girls driving away every deer for twenty acres. Hunting is exciting.

This past week I was Muzzleloader Elk hunting. The full moon and wind kept the Elk up at night and I decided to sit some water in the evening. My brother was with me and we got in the tree stand about 2 hours before dark. We get in and get comfy. We are watching a 12 baby quail water when they all scurry under some brush because a juvenile Hawk just landed near them in a tree. I am not sure what kind of hawk but he was about 8 to 10 inches high. We watch the hawk for a few and my attention diverts to looking at a Couse Deer doe come in to water. All of the sudden in the corner of my eye I see the Hawk take off straight at my brother and I. We are sitting tandem in the stand.

The hawk was about 75 yards when it took off.

It keeps coming and coming. I think surely he will see us and vear off. It gets about 6 feet from me and I panic thinking these 1 inch long claws are going to get me right in the face. I am not sure who was more scared when I moved. My brother I started laughing so hard we almost fell out of the stand.

Nothing came in after that, it is no wonder. We laughed so hard I made myself sick.

Years ago I was fishing on the Conejos in southern Colorado. It was approaching dusk and I was crouched down low on a gavel bar fishing a run. The opposite bank was about 4-5 feet high and vertical.

Suddenly I felt/aw something come over the bar headed straight at me. I looked up to see a VERY Large owl right in my face (VERRRRYYYY LARGE at that distance).

I assume he could see my head moving over the top of the bank was on the way to getting supper when the rest of me was seen atached to that hair ball.

Glad he flared off before . . . BEFORE he sank those talons into my head.

Yes it is easy to digest later, but at the time what had just happened made no sense.

This story, like many of the others, was scary when it happened but hilarious afterwards.
This last summer I was fishing/ camping with a buddy at a nearby mountain lake. We saw a cow moose on the far side of the lake just before dark. We went to sleep and in the morning when we started fishing again we saw it again in almost the same spot. It started working its way around the lake towards us and we lost sight of it. About a half hour later I spotted it about 50 yards away from us in the water. I had my camera on me and i wanted to get a good picture of it up close. I started to sneak up to it and it start to kind of walk towards me and up the hill. When i was about 10 yards away from it my buddy yelled "STOP!, youre getting too close!" (Which was true, It was a pretty stupid Idea.) No sooner had he finished his sentence, then the moose full on charged at us. I muttered a 4 letter word under my breath and pushed off the tree i was leaning against and took off at a full sprint away from it. My buddy was about 2 steps ahead of me running as fast as he could and we were screaming like little girls. There were no big trees to hide behind or anything, just smaller aspens. I could hear the moose getting closer fast, and right when i thought the thing was going to trample over my back it just ran right past us. It was so close it could have nipped my butt if it had wanted to when it passed by.

This picture is of the moose right before i really started sneaking up on it.

I just had to revive this thread after reading it.
This one goes into the scariest thing that has ever happened to me. This is the reason I stopped going on canoing trips. You remember the movie Snakes on a Plane.

5 years ago I was canoing down the Alapaha river in South Georgia with 3 friends when we decided to pull over to eat our lunch. We were miles from civilization.

We guided ourselves in on the banks of the river using the many overhanging oak branches to guide our way. When we got to the bank, we looked up in absolute horror as we realized that all the trees we just guided ourselves in on all had bull mocasins hanging in their limbs. There were 100's of them. We had held the underside of branches that above them were mocasins we never saw because they just faded in. We pulled our pistols and tried shooting some but realized when they fell in the water, they headed straight for our canoes. We drug our canoes 300 yards through the thickest brush and forest you have ever seen so we would not have to go back through them. To this day, I feel absolutely blessed that none of them fell on us and am amazed no one even saw one until it was too late. It still creeps me out and I have not been able to go on a canoe trip since unless it involves a river without poisonous snakes which around here doesn't exist.

Here was a picture of the river before the snakes.

Scariest I have seen was when I was 17 and a buddy 18, we were pheasant hunting. He had shot one bird along the edge of a corn field, he retrieved it, it was still flopping, I had walked ahead of him a few yards ignoring him, looking for more birds to get up, I heard his gun go off 10 feet behind me, I spun around expecting pheasants, but to my shock I see him collapse to the ground with the old model 97 in between his arm and chest. With the barrel even with his head. I thought he blew his head off, and I was yelling his name, as he lay on the ground, pheasant on one side, shotgun on other. He starts to get up cussing like a storm, I asked what in the heck did you do. Clayton says, I was trying to put the pheasant in my game pouch, my shotgun slipped to the ground and as I pulled it back up the hammer caught his hammer loop on his cover alls, half-cocked and fired, inches from his head. I about freaked. We both laughed later and I think he was real lucky. I learned a valuble lesson about gun safety. I have seen those old guns shoot holes in pick up floor boards to from the same scenerio.