I was hunting with a good buddy of mine & he came roaring back into camp one morning, all out of breath and positive he had nailed a huge buck. He’s telling me, “Ed I know I got him, I know it, I know it! But I can’t find my arrow!”

We go back to the spot and re-create the shot. I asked him, “Did you find hair? Blood? Anything?”

“NO!”, he blurts out, “Nothing at all but I swear I saw the arrow go in him dammit!”

So he’s standing about where the deer was and I’m pantomiming the shot, back at full draw, looking, looking, and I see his arrow stuck up in the tree about 12 feet high, right in back of where the deer was. I point to his arrow, he sees it, his jaw drops to the ground and he says, “NO! HUH? Wait….that’s my arrow? That can’t be my arrow!!!!”

Amazing what buck fever can do to a poor sod, eh? 😉

My strangest hunting encounter ever (not counting BigButt, which wasn’t really an encounter but only a close sighting of … something): About 20 years ago I was sitting on elk ambush near a spring in an aspen grove a mile from the nearest road or house, and a steep climb to reach. About half an hour before dark, prime-time for elk to drink, a lovely young blonde lady about half my age appeared out of the shadows and I could tell she was lost and on the edge of panic. Being a gentleman of course I made my camouflaged presence known to her. Turns out she was looking for a dog she’d been walking down below which had disappeared. I escorted her back to civilization and for a while had free drinks anytime I visited the saloon where she was a cocktail waitress. I know this is a common hunter’s fantasy, like falling asleep and waking to have game all around you. I’m still waiting on that one! 8)

My strangest hunting encounter was watching 3 hunters for well over an hour show each other how they where going to draw on that ever elusive Coues white tail buck. The whole time this is going on there was a nice buck less then 50 yards below them beaded and waiting for them to leave. As soon as they walked off he got up pissed and walked down the hill. Some deer have figered out hidding is better then running I gess.:oops:

Mine was while hunting with my dad. I had only been hunting a few years and had to take a leak. So I walked to the river’s edge….and fell in. I couldn’t pull myself out of the river because the bank was too steep, so I had to eat crow and yell for my dad to come over and help me out. Needless to say, he was not too pleased that I ruined the hunting that morning.:oops:

well one of my first years of hunting I went turkey hunting with dad, he knew I wasnt ready for the tough winter of rifle season yet so we just went turkey hunting the first few years. THe hike was tough to the top of the mountain. the first quarter of a mile wasnt bad because it was on fire trails, then it goes strait up to the top. It was a moist spring morning, not raining or anything just moist. And I fell alot. I was only 13 or so. I had these cargo style camo pants and didnt have a pack, just put everything in my pockets. I had 4 strikers in my right top pocket, we got to the top and were getting set up, I was actually a pretty decent caller, not like I am now, but if I didnt overcall I could have called in a tom. I reached in my pocket to try and start calling. EVERY single striker was gone:shock::lol:. So dad goes and gets a stick and sharpens it with his knife. It worked at first, but not like the strikers, the one striker had my steel wool in the top of it, so I couldnt sctratch up the slate either. SOO we stuck with dads good ole trusty box call instead and when we were done for the day we went down to the little store which wasnt but a hop and skip from camp and we bought another striker and actually that is when I got my first diaphram call too, so it worked out. A couple years later guess what dad found??? Two of the 4 missing strikers, :lol::D

Mud and water seem to be my downfall, I was walking down a tidal creek that I know well a few years ago, at this point the sides are very steep, the banks at eye level and the bottom is narrow. It’s just before first light and I’m thinking that the mud had changed consistency, just as I was thinking this I started to sink but never mind I’ve encountered plenty of soft stuff.
I sank up to my knees pretty quick, but it did not stop I just kept going, fortunately I was carrying a bag of decoys this came off quickly and I dropped it down to sit on before things got any worse. I was barely able to sit on the bag as I had sunk a bit to far but squirming about I managed to get on.
The old spaniel is now doing the wall of death running down one bank and up the other mud going everywhere and the trickle of water flowing down the creek is starting to build up behind me and then stars to flow past on either side, fortunately I was carrying a very stout wadding pole that I managed to wedge into the sides of the bank and using a combination of pull ups and pushing on the bag I started to free myself but was unable to climb the muddy bank or get any grip on it.
Alternating lying flat and pulling myself onto the bag I managed to crawl back the way I’d come probably about 20 yards before I felt confident enough to try and stand up.
It was not until I sat on the edge of the bank that I realised just how much effort it had taken to crawl out of the mud I was shaking.
Been a lot more respectful of mud since then, Mark.

A few years ago, my uncle and I were hunting an area that we were pretty sure was a the end of the road. I had done a sweep of a little bowl, and found an old, apparently little-travelled logging road. No biggie, it was up above about 1/2 mile. He went up parallel to me and then hooked out onto the ridge to the south. As I was completing my loop (I could see the truck across a little creek), I dropped a short bugle to let him know I was almost back. From down below, a bugle answered, but it wasn’t my uncle’s bugle. I dropped my pack where I stood, and started sneaking down the hill to investigate the answer. I could tell that the bull was coming up the hill, so I cow called a couple times to coax him closer. As I stood hiding behind a small tree, I saw something brown coming through the little christmas trees on the next bench below. I got ready, nocked an arrow and cow called. Next thing I know, about 35 yards from me, on the edge of the bunch of christmas trees, out walks another bowhunter!! I thought to myself…well, at least I can call SOMETHING in, even if it isn’t an elk. I stepped out from behind my tree, waved, put my arrow back in my quiver, and headed back up the hill to retrieve my pack. My uncle listened to the whole thing from the tailgate of the truck. When I got back, he asked me if I got a shot. I said, “Naw, the guy stopped just out of range.” It was a good day for hunting. Since then, I’ve called in a couple other hunters, too, but that was my first.

Michael.