OK.. Hunters are just like fisherman, right? There's fishing tales and hunting tales, some more creative than others.

Reading the stuff here from RMK.. AKA, the Mule Deer Ears, AKA the Christmas Goose, made me think of this subject.

Anyhow, what is the most OUTRAGOUS Bullshit hunting story you have ever heard. I have one for the BS record book that I'll tell later when I have time. Somebody else can start...

Ahh.. the bait is set. I can hear cyber-snow crunching as a certain snaggle-toothed wannabe from Wyoming makes his way to the trap...

Brad, he's coming to the trap, but I firmly believe he is not old enough to be snaggle-toothed unless his mule has kicked him repeatedly in the head, which is very possible, he doesn't seem to take hints or learn very fast.
Yardbird

Hey.. I'm not baiting anyone, honest. This could be a real funny topic.

Here's a great one:

Some names and places changed to protect the embarrassed… Hopefully, it’s not too confusing to follow.

Several years ago, John, a local hunter that I know was telling me about the fantastic elk hunting in Idaho, near where he grew up; tremendous bulls, 400+ bulls, awesome hunting. He told me his father had taken not only one, but two 400 class bulls from a particular area. He showed me pictures of the mounted beasts hanging on a wall, high near some windows, in an office of sorts.

Anyhow, I ended up hunting the following year in Idaho for antelope with Don, a friend of another friend of mine in Idaho. We had antelope permits in the same unit and he had a mule deer license valid for the area. Don and I became pretty good pals after that hunt. Don has taken a number of good animals, including some really big elk from Idaho. Turns out Don and John’s father live in the same town. I never thought to mention it at the time.

Last year I arrowed a really nice bull in my home state that grossed 372P&Y. Also, John arrowed a real good bull that would go in the 340s.

My friend Don sent me an email from Idaho saying.. “Hey do you know this John guy, apparently lives in your town now and arrowed a 372P&Y elk this year?”

I said, “Well yes, but you should subtract about 25 points from that score and you got it right, how do you know about that?”

Don said, “Well his dad works in the same office building as me and stops by to talk hunting occasionally.”

I replied, “Well Don, didn’t that guy kill two absolutely huge bulls over there by you in Idaho? 400 class type elk?”

Don laughed, “Well not that I know of.. I doubt it. He sure likes to look at my two bulls that are on the wall here in the office.”

A little light came on and I asked Don to email me pictures of his two bulls in his office. Sure as hell… same two mounts from the pictures John had originally showed me. We had some real good laughs over that.

Then the real funny part now, several months later, I bump into John in the local archery shop.

“So John, tell me about this elk hunting area in Idaho again.” I say.

I patiently listen to all the details again.. and ask, “Didn’t your dad kill two monster bulls there?”

“Oh yeah.” He says and tells me these huge scores again.

“So,” I say, “ I have a friend that knows your dad and works in the same office, his name is Don Smith.”

John has a surprised look on his face, “Ohh…. So you know him?”

It was all I could do to not laugh, but I felt real embarrassed for this guy. I wonder if pictures of my elk were circulating around that town in Idaho by this guy’s dad… telling folks his son killed it. Chronic bullshitting usually is an inherited trait.

Sorry, I don't have any BS stories to contribe but I do have a good story that ABSLUOTLY TRUE, NO LIE, CROSS MY HEART AND HOPE TO DIE.

I was hunting near Saline Creek at my old lease in Winn Parish, Louisiana. It was a slow day and I was amused to watch a squirrel playing on the shore.

There was a log jutting into the water with a large hickory nut on it right at the water's edge. The squirrel would approach the nut, turn around, and scamper back to shore. He did this a number of times when finally hunger or greed dove him get that nut. As soon as he picked up that nut - GULP!!- an ENORMOUS catfish cleared the water, devoured the squirrel in a bite, and fell back in.

I'd never seen anything like it and, you know what? In few minutes that catfish pushed another nut up on the log.

This fall my buddies and I had to endure one of our gun club members telling us that he had to shoot his moose last year 4 times before it dropped. His last shot (the one that dropped it) was at 900 yards. He was using a .308.

Funny this thread come up, as I was thinking of my grandfather this morning.
As grandfathers do, it starts with " did I ever tell you the time" ( he had several times) I got 10 partridge with one shot . I had my single shot 22 hunting one day when I was a kid. I saw 10 partridge sitting on a limb and only 1 shell for my .22, we were real poor. So I got around to the side and took carefull aim and shot. I split the branch down through they were sitting on, and when it closed back, I had them all caught by the toes.

The weather is Louisiana is changable, the old saying is that if you don't like the weather now, just wait 10 minutes.

What I've seen on this post so far is a pack of lies so I'm gonna tell you a TRUE story, no lie.

When a cold front comes through, we sometimes get what's called a blue norther: an immediate, sudden and steep drop in temperature with ablast of fridgid wind.

I was duck hunting and the weather was "bluebird" warm and clear. The ducks weren't flying worth a darn and there were bugs and frogs everywhere. Suddenly, we got the worst blue norther I've ever seen. It got so cold so fast that the frogs were caught halfin and half out of the water when it turned to ice. No kidding, all you cold see of the frogs were thier legs sticking out of the ice. I got nearly a bushel of frog legs with my lawn mower.

Greenhorn,

I sent you a PM.. kinda off this topic but it is on the topic of hunting...e-mail me if ya get a chance...

The difference between fairy tales and hunting stories is fairy tales begin "Once upon a Time". Hunting stories begin "This is no lie".

I could dig up Todd E's thrilling account of all the buffalo he's "brain shot," but I don't have my hip boots today...yadda, yadda. That boy don't never miss! Honest.

I was back in New Jersey fifteen years ago for some training. One of the students in our group was telling a few of his buddies about his Canadian bear trip;

Yeah! Up in Canada if you wound a bear, they put you in jail. Thats why I was carrying my .308 Weatherby Magnum.

Me...... Don't you mean a .300 Weatherby?

BS'er..... No! Mine IS a .308 Weatherby, I had them make it up for me, special.

One of my favorites anyway....... FN in MT

PS As a kid I did once hit a flying mallard with a rock! Honest!

No BS, When I was a kid, I got one of those fiberglass bows for my birthday. I shot it constantly, and got very good with it. I told my grandmother who was visiting how good a shot I was with it, and she said well if you're such a good shot, go shoot some quail for my dinner. To her surprise, I said OK. In about an hour, I came back with a quail which I got with my first and only shot.

Well, back during the depression, an old feller was feeding his family with deer from around these parts. He used an old muzzle loader, but powder and shot were pretty scarce...

The story goes that he fired his last ball at a deer about 100 yards away and missed.

Then, being disappointed by missing the deer, he sat down under an apple tree to have a few apples before walking home. While sitting there, he saw a few deer approaching from up wind. Thinking fast, he put a charge of powder in the bore, but couldn't find any pebbles to use for shot. All he could find to use for shot were the seeds from the apple cores laying about...

And so, when the buck approached, he fired a wad of apple seeds into the buck's boiler room, but alas, the deer did not succumb to the wound on the spot, and he ran off into the woods.

But the old hunter claimed he was walking though the same part of the country a couple of years later and stumbled upon a buck deer's skeletal remains, and up through the rib cage grew a thriving sapling...

apple tree.

Now how's that for Barbara Streisand?

Dan

What a pack of lies. Nobody but me tells the truth.

While hunting earlier this season, I saw a guy watching me through his scope. I picked up my own rifle and, looking back at him, realized that he was getting ready to shoot! I wasn't wearing orange so I guessed he going to shoot at some movement I made. I fired and hit his bullet on the way to me. As I had a heavier caliber, I drove his bullet back into his gun. No lie.

One of my high school classmates insisted that he shot two legs off a deer with his dad's 30-06 but it ran down the bank and escaped by swimming across the Clarion River.
At Hunter Ligget one time a guy shot a deer with an m-1 carbine. He brought it to my place to show it to me, but when he opened the trunk of his car it jumped out and ran away.

I took three guys I met in college to my family farm for some pheasant hunting. Not having a dog I posted them at one end of the cornfield and I walked through hoping to push out the pheasants. As I approached the end of the field I heard an incredible barrage of shooting. I sprinted to the field edge in time to watch an apparently uninjured lark fly into the next field. So much for those nimrods.

I went to high school in SW Arizona. One day, some friends of mine and I were walking into the local Circle K when we spied a "California" hunter, dressed all in camo's, walking out. At the moment, none of us could figure out what season it was, so we asked him. He replied, "I'm out here hunting quail and I got my limit."

Now this struck us as strange because we'd been running the back roads (Wellton is a farming/rural area) and none of us had seen a quail. We mentioned this and he replied, "Really? Didn't take me long at all. Just drive along, see one and shoot him.".

Now we were really confused. See just one? That wasn't right....Then it dawned on us. We asked to see his game bag. Sure enough, the damn fool had gotten his limit all right.....

Of roadrunners!

I've got a buddy who has a coon hound that will tell you how many coons are up the tree by putting that number of paws up on the tree.

The other night we were out and the old hound started treeing like crazy. When we caught up to him, he was standing real funny with only one foot on the ground, three paws on the tree and his tail stuck up his butt.

I was confused and asked my buddy what's this all about. "Simple he say's, there's three coon up there and a forth one just went in the hole."

I used to have a talking bird dog a few years back. But he started running his mouth about my mistress, so I had to shoot him.

A guy from the church that I grew up had run the locker plant before retiring. He used to tell a story about a customer who went out west to hunt mule deer and came back with a burro. He said that he butchered it and kept his mouth shut.

The best ones I know are all true. Pick the one you want me to elaborate on, and I'll go into detail. Probably the best is about roping the bear and shooting it with muzzleloaders( That wouldn't go off, of course), followed by a fellow trapped in a spring house with a griz, and then another with the same guy, who killed the griz that had killed two girls up in Glacier Park, as related in the book, Night of the Grizzlies. I can tell you about being treed by griz, and doing a body recovery in the Mission Mountain Wilderness area from a plane wreck with 34 griz in the basin at the time. I've got stories of bears in camps and cabins and towns, moose in town, what ever suits your taste.

Whatcha wanna hear?

I think the funniest BS hunting story I've ever heard is one told to me by my uncle when I was a boy (13yrs old). He has a picture of himself standing by huge 12pt whitetail that's lying on the tailgate of a pickup truck. He tells me this elaborate story of how he hunted this deer all season and got him on the closing day. It was a fantastic story with lots of detail and I'll tell ya, it made a huge impression on me, although I never knew my uncle to be much of a hunter. The years passed, I grew up, my uncle got old and eventually passed away. After his funeral we were at my aunts house, you know how these things go, everybody's sitting around not knowing what to say. I bring up the deer story because the deer picture is still on the wall. All of a sudden my aunt starts laughing uncontrollably, "he told you that" she asks? "Well yes" I say kinda confused. She laughingly says "that man never shot a deer in his life. That deer was shot by our next door neighbor. If you'll look at the picture a little closer you'll see your uncle has his bedroom slippers on. Our neighbor drove up with that deer and your uncle got in the picture" Everybody in the house broke out laughing! That was my uncle for ya.......

War stories start out with "This is no shit, there I was. 10,000 ft., one turnin' one burnin'. All I had was a silkworm and a needle; boy were we busy.............

I vote for TC1. The best jokes are the ones that are truly believed for years and then you find out after.
My dad and older brother went "up north" to hunt deer at a old friends place of my dad's. They said that my brother had seen a deer and it sounded like a machine gun going off in the woods, he was using a 30-30 Winchester at the time. They were kidding him that he should come up about a month early next year to make ammo dumps in the woods so he would not run out next year. My dad, was a kind of a poor man's poacher. If it was easy he would do it. These people had apple trees outside the house. The old man waited up and was watching the trees when a deer came along to get some apples in the middle of the night. My brother was asleep in the upper story bedroom, where my dad was also, and the old man had his trusty 30-40 Kraig. He opened the window and tried to shoot the deer. But, the trees and deer were so close to the house that he shot the window sill and woke up everyone except my brother who was still dead asleep.