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bowhunter1023

Owner/Operator
Staff member
48,879
274
Appalachia
I think it is safe to say we all love a good story and there are plenty to go around on this forum. Whether it be past hunting endeavors, legendary fish stories, or classic tales of outdoor adventures from days past, reading or hearing a good story does something positive for the soul. For several months now I have been kicking this idea around and finally sat down to get it started. So when you are sitting down enjoying a beer late one night or are passing time in the stand, on the water or in the blind, feel free to contribute to this thread. I’d like to start it off with one of my favorite accounts from the deer woods…

Deer hunting has always been a part of my life. From an early age I can remember my dad spending opening day of gun season on the family farm alongside his brothers and brother-in-laws. When I was 8 years old, I was finally able to partake in a long standing family tradition: deer drives. My uncles, who were the real deer hunters in the family, had been hunting the same 300 acres for the vast majority of their lives and no one knew how to move deer around those woods like my uncles. In the fall of 1990, I went on my first deer hunt as a stander on the traditional “Beech Grove” drive with my dad by my side and my uncles doing all the hard work.

Dad and I made our way to the edge of an oak flat via a long and winding logging road that eventually dropped off the flat and circled back below us in the creek bottom. The beech grove for which this drive earned its name was situated at the head of the holler about 300 yards west of our stand. In order to move deer from A to B on this drive, my Uncle Jason would have to walk nearly a mile out of the way in order to approach the beech grove from the right direction. The goal was to push deer from the beech grove and out the ridge opposite our position. Another old logging road came off the ridge and dropped in to the bottom below our stand where it joined the road we walked in on. Once the deer reached the bottom, they would usually stop before moving on to nasty thicket to the east of us. Over the years this drive produced more deer than any other drive on the farm and this day would prove to be no different.

For an 8 year old on his first hunt, it seemed like DAYS that we waited for my uncle to get to the business end of the drive. However eventually all hell broke loose in the woods across from us and an entire herd of deer exited the beech grove in textbook fashion. I was hunkered down next to an old stump with my trusty New England single-shot .410 when dad said: “Here comes one. Cheek on the stock. Bead right behind the shoulder.” Sure enough, a really nice 8-point was tearing down the logging road and came to a skidding halt in the creek below me. “Take the shot.” I heard dad whisper as I tried to deal with my first ever case of buck fever. To this day, I can still remember how far off the stock my face came and how hard I was looking clear over the end of my barrel at that buck when I pulled the trigger! lmao

Needless to say, I had to donate a shirt tail to my uncles when they all joined us at the end of the drive! I took a ration of shit from Uncle Jason for whiffing after all his walking and I can recall taking it pretty hard. Everyone decided to try another drive, but I was ready to head for the house after the letdown. So my dad’s brother-in-law said he would walk me back to the house. He and I took off down the creek and eventually came to a spring in the hillside below the deer cabin. The scene from that morning is etched in my head like an Ansel Adams picture. As we stood in the moss surrounding the spring, a hard frost from the night before was melting off under the intense morning sun. My uncle picked up an old turtle shell that was laying nearby and cleaned it out in the creek. He proceeded to fill it up with spring water and took a long, hearty drink. As a young boy being raised by a germaphobic mother, my mind was blown! My uncle filled up the turtle shell again and handed it to me saying: “It’s alright, I won’t tell your mom.” I grabbed the shell and took a big swig of the coldest water I’d ever drank. I felt like a man standing there drinking from that turtle shell, not a little boy. It was a defining moment in my life.

As I grew older and deer hunting become a bigger part of my life, I often replayed that hunt in my mind. The years passed and the memories of what that buck looked like faded, but the recollection of drinking from that turtle shell seemed to grow more and more vivid. A few years back, I had the chance to tell my uncle this story and let him know how much that day stuck in my head. To him, it was a simple gesture. To me, it was a momentous occasion. I got to be a man. Doing manly things. In the deer woods. With one of my heroes. And that is a memory I’ll cherish forever.
 
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giles

Cull buck specialist
Supporting Member
Gun season 1993' I was finally 13 and old enough to go to deer camp! My dad also had gotten permission to hunt an old farm in Athens, being from NW Ohio this was a real treat. I borrowed a duck gun from my grandpa so I could hold more than one shell, and bought 10 boxes of 20 gauge ammo.

We drive down on Saturday to get a lay of the land and the excitement couldn't hold us any longer. That night I met a new side of my old man and a couple other guys that i'd never seen before. I laughed and laughed around the campfire as I played "the bartender".

Sunday morning rolls around and I'm the last one awake…I remember thinking "How the Sam hell are these guys awake already?" I can still smell the alcohol in the air as the campfire is still going strong. One guy is cooking pancakes and ask me something about a skirt or something? I'm still trying to wake up and couldn't figure out what he was saying. Right about that point I get tackled! WTF?!! Who the !!!! Son of a… Next thing I know I'm wrapped up in a double grapevine and screaming UNCLE. My uncle was my wrestling coach and now he's got me all sorts of hurting, I didn't know he was coming either. Not only is he there, but he hasn't been to bed yet and should have turned in hours ago…

I remember a couple hours into this day asking my dad "Is this normal?" "No son, these guys are being calm because a kid is here. Now go get us all beers!" I go grab a round of beers and hand them out, at some point I decided to look at my watch and it wasn't anywhere near lunchtime yet. lol. The day continues somehow and we never made it to check out the lay of the land.

Monday morning rolls around and we are in the woods well before sun up. My dad sits me on a stump and tells me to not move, he's going just over the ridge to sit on the other side. I'm shitting bricks sitting in the dark after listening to all the haunted stories about this property! The sun can't come up fast enough. I can hear EVERYTHING and EVERYTHING I hear I swear is trying to kill me. I keep my shit together long enough for the sun to come up. I realize that I'm basically looking off a cliff and the closest shot is going to be 75 yards, strait down. Oh well, this is hunting and I'm here to hunt.

Right about then 3 doe come walking into this bowl I'm looking down into and bed down. Once the bed down in this tree top, I can't see them anymore. A couple hours goes by and one stands up. This is my time to shine! I raise up and BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! All 3 deer are running as I reload they round the bend and start running up the cliff/hill to my left and they are going to be inside 50 yards the next time I see them. I'm stoked, reloaded, and ready for them to pop out… The first one pops out BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! They turn and bolt back down the hill and go back to where they started. I reload and BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! They bolt out of site this time.

I'm highly confident that I just shot 3 deer on my first deer hunt ever. My dad comes running over the hill and ask me "how many did you get?! We only have so many tags!" He comes down and we go down this cliff to find a chunk of an ear and a little bit of fur, no blood. I'm kinda bummed…as I realize that I just ruined the hunt and blew my chance. Dad tries to comfort me the best he can as he can see my disappointment. We decide it's time for lunch and to regroup a little.

Get back from lunch and as soon as he gets out of sight, here come 3 deer. OK COOL, my time to shine! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! These damn deer don't even take off running…BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! STill nothing…WTF BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Now I'm out of shells and start yelling for my dad. He comes over the ridge and I tell him I'm out of ammo. He replies "GOOD!" no dad, the deer are still here. He comes down to the hill a little ways and sees the deer. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The deer don't run…he reloads and BOOM! The little tree right above this doe snaps and falls over right on her ass! They finally bolt. We get down there and don't find any blood again….

To shorten this story up a little, I went through TEN BOXES of shells that day! No way to make this up folks, I fired 50 shots and didn't hit a thing. That evening the camp is out of beer and I'm out of ammo so we head to town. I buy the last 2 boxes of ammo off the shelf. I think we are going back to camp…Boy was I wrong! We went to the Silver Saddle Saloon. Anyone who knows this place knows that a group of out of towners with a 13 year old kid, have zero business in this place. We walk in and the first guy we meet is a black guy in a cowboy hat taking shots of tequila…Oh buddy this should be fun. Then the lady working behind the bar ask me if I like spicy food, I said oh yea! At this point a guy named Pepsi tries to talk me out of trying this jelly on a cracker ( I think thats what he was trying to say?). I've been razed all evening already about my 10 boxes of shells and laughed at by everyone in this bar, I'll be damned if I'm backing down from a little jelly on a cracker! I can't explain what happened to my mouth when I put this in it…it wasn't good. And I'm pretty sure she sold this stuff to take welds off. I pound a couple Dew's as quickly as I can and it ain't helping, might even be making it worse.

Ok, back up the hill we go. I'm pretty sure I laid in bed wide awake the entire night after drinking all that caffeine. The next morning I'm so mad at myself I tell the old man I don't want to go back to that spot, someone that can actually shoot should go hunt it. He agree's and we go behind the cemetery to hunt that morning and all the way to the back of the property.

Around 10 I hear something coming over the ridge right towards us. The one is a half racked buck and running right at me. I take a knee and let him keep running right to me. He stops at 22 steps, BOOM! Game over, I had shot my first deer...
 

xbowguy

Dignitary Member
Supporting Member
29,633
234
Licking Co. Ohio
Very nice Giles. Some things you just gotta learn at deer camp. Like why turtles say fugg a lot.
Nice story, felt like I was there for a minute.
 

MK111

"Happy Hunting Grounds in the Sky"
Supporting Member
6,551
66
SW Ohio
About 1993 I had a offer from one of our mail order customers who lived in Petersburg, AK to come for a 3 week hunt with him at no charge. A once in a lifetime trip.
I flew to WA state and flew out the next morning for Juena, AK, then a short fly in to Petersburg. Landing in Petersburg is a real ass puckering ordeal. It's on a island and surrounded by mountains. On the approach the plane does a steep bank to the right and I still swear the wind tip almost hit the ground. Surely not for the faint of heart.
My host was Norman and he picked me up at the airport and went to his mobile home to pick up his gear. As we entered there was a awful odor and he explained his freezer went out and lost all his meat and fish. More on this freezer later in the story.
We went to the pier to a small fishing boat he borrowed from a Priest. I asked where the life jackets were. His reply was 'we don't use life jackets up here because the water is so cold and after just a few minutes your dead anyway'. Holy hell that's not a good feeling. We leave by the river and went we get about 1/4 mile out there is a line of boiling water about 1 ft. high. I asked what that was and was told 'that's were the river water meats the ocean and basicly the river stops there and boils up'. It was a rough ride over the boil.
We went by boat about 2 hrs. to the mainland where there was survival cabin. It was 1st come and 1st serve. It was high and dry about 8x10 with a table top for the stove and dish pan. A single bed and 2 double bunk beds on the far end. I took the top bunk and Norman took the bottom and Norman's friend Ron who came the next day took the single bed.
It was getting close to dark and Norman says 'I used to be a short order cook so I'll do the cooking and you do the dishes'. That's fine with me. Norman made a great 1st meal and we dished out the food and Norman stopped me. 'If you do mind I always say blessing before eating'. I told him that's fine as I was raised Catholic.
Norman throws his arms and eyes up the heavens and prays 'Goddamn it Lord my freezer went out and I lost all my winter meat and fish. Please Lord help Frank and I get a moose or bear. And thank you for letting Frank have a save trip up here. Amend'. I damn near fainted from shock. I heard this same prayer 3 times a day before every meal for 3 weeks.
It rained 16 days of the 21 days I was there. It would rain early morning for awhile and be clear up the rest of the day. It turned out Norman was a typical hunter and hunt 1.5 hours in the morning and break for lunch and hunt 1.5 hr. in the later afternoon and always was back in long before dark.
I found out after a few days that Norman was terrified of bears and was sure every bear in AK was going to eat a human. After about 2 weeks of this I just blew up and tried to explain to him that if every bear in AK was eating a person there wouldn't be any people in AK as there are more bears than people in AK. Norman wasn't haven't any of that explanation. I did ask him when there was a report of a bear eating a human and he couldn't recall any. 'But a lot of people go missing in AK'.
Being a trip of a lifetime I hunted all day and that worried Norman because he always thought a bear eat me every day until I came back.
Another annoying thing about Norman and his fear of bears was he had convinced himself it was unhealthy to go to the bathroom during daylight hours. I attempted for him to explain that reason to me but it was no go. So every night before bedtime he would grab his 5 gl. bucket to go outside to do his daily job and Frank had to go out and guard him so no damn bear would get him. When your out in the bush like that it's darker than hell and I surely wasn't going to take a light along. So since I'm writing this story you get the idea no bear eat us.
One day Ron called me aside when Norman was sleeping and showed me bear sign post starching on a tree next to the cabin about 10 ft. high. Ron says 'don't tell Norman as he will leave'. Norman never looked up.
The Ron said 'look through the trees there at that blowed over tree roots'. I did and it looked like a man's face with wild hair sticking up. 'Don't tell Norman as he will want to leave as he believes in witches and stuff'.
I did call in a moose and could hear it walking but never came into view. Took a boat ride up the glacier runoff we was on and seen the glacier calving off chunks and lots of seals. There was white billy goats on the mountain side.
We would use the glacier ice chunks in our ice chest and cold drinks. Glacier ice is a real pale blue because all the air is pressed out from the pressure and would last about 2 times longer than regular ice. The story going around at that time was Japan wanted to come in and buy large icebergs and tow them back to Japan for high end ice cubes fro drinks. It didn't go any where.
We had 16 ft. tides every day and we would tie the boat off and push the boat out about 50 ft. from shore and the next morning it would be close to being on dry land. One morning we got up and Ron's big boat was gone. A glacier ice chunk took it out to sea and was no where in sight. So Norman took our small boat and went to town looking for it and never found it. As it turned out Norman went to town and had sex with is wife and asked the Priest who was flying his plane to a out lying parish to look for it. As it turned out the priest flew by and waved and never found it and charged us fuel cost. What sorta pissed me off the Priest was flying past us anyway on his regular trip.
A crap boat found Ron's boat and knew where it came from and brought it back to us at no charge.
I did end up shooting a nice black bear with my 338 Win. Browning rifle. The bear was about 125 yds. away standing on a tree stump and Norman didn't see it before I shot. The Norman really got scared as now we have a wounded bear that was going to eat him. By this time I'm about done with his bear scares.
'Why didn't you wait until I seen it. Where was it when you shot? Now we have a wounded bear!'
I told him it was up there by that tree stump. We went up and Norman was pissing his pants all the way talking about wounded bears. I got to the tree stump and seen blood and now Norman really came unglued.
I guess I came unglued to and said 'Look at the damn blood it's pink lung blood'. The bear only went about 10 ft. and laid there dead as ever. And Norman just kept going on and on about how dangerous wounded bears were. I sorta think if I wasn't on a damn island and could have driven out I would have left and gone home.
When we were going back to home Norman was not paying attention and swerved the boat hard and damn near tipped us over. I blew up as I was setting there with a Ruger 5" pistol, knife, flashlight and ammo on a belt around my waist. I would have sunk like a damn rock but what the hell the water was too cold to live in anyway and that might have been a blessing.
The night before I left Norman went to a crap boat owner he knew and got a big mess of king crap legs and I swear they were 36" long and fresh. They wouldn't eat any as it was my treat and I was forced to eat about 5 lbs. Damn were they good.

After 3 weeks it was time to leave so Norman dropped me off at the airport and left. As it turned out he went home to have sex with his wife again. Seems she wouldn't have sex when anyone else in the house and that was fine with me.
Well I had the last laugh as the Petersburg airport is a pilot restricted airport due to the tough landing approach and it took special ratings to fly in and out. The plane came in and tried 2 times and left and I had a delay until the next day. Poor ole Norman didn't get his sex fast enough before I called him to come back and get me. I heard about that.

Over all even though I only got a nice black bear I had a great trip of a lifetime. I gave Norman a Marlin 45-70 rifle for having me up there and he cried when I presented it to him. He had just sold his only rifle for some expenses and had borrowed a rifle to take on our hunting trip.

All the people I met in AK were rather strange but I believe that was because strange people have strange friends. I lost contact with Norman shortly after returning home as he stuck me with the payment on the last mailorder order I sent him.

I hope you enjoy this read as it's exactly how it happened and I'm sticking to my story.
 
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