Most Humiliating Hunting Experience
01-30-2007, 03:44 PM
#1
Typical Buck
Thread Starter
Join Date: Dec 2003
Posts: 590
Most Humiliating Hunting Experience
It's the off-season, and kind of slow, so I thought it was time for a true hunting story. This happened to me (and to a doe antelope) three years ago.
It was my first antelope hunt, and I was really into it, crawling around for hours on end. I spent more time on elbows and knees than on my feet. Anyhow, I spotted this lone antelope doe and began a long stalk. In the course of an hour and a half I crawled up onto a berm that gave me a nice prone shot at her.
She was in company of a herd of cows, no other antelope in sight. I had no range finder and guessed the range to be about 300, maybe 325. I squeezed off my first shot. Nothing. The antelope started looking around for the source of the racket, but I was well-concealed, so she didn't see me.
I shot again. And again. And again. Nothing times 3. Now I've emptied my rifle (I only load 4 rounds at a time in my 270). I reloaded in some agitation, but the doe stood for it. Four more shots blasted down range. No results. Antelope still standing there. Me frantically reloading for a third time.
Stupidity, they say, consists of doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result on the next try. I guess you could say Stupidity was my middle name on this day. I held stubbornly to my belief in a 300 yard shot, and continued holding at the top of the spine, just into the hair at her backline. Three more shots rang out (that makes 11 shots for you scorekeepers out there). Nothing.
At this point I quit. Just set the rifle down and said screw it. Something triggered in my mind that by stopping there, I was avoiding emptying my rifle 3 times. For some reason, that carried some weight with me. Plus, I was running out of rounds, and I like to keep a few rounds available forif I encounter one of Patrick McManus' FMCs. (That's Fast Mean Cows for the great unwashed.)
Well, at about this point, the little doe decided she should leave the area, having given me more than a fair shot by any standard. She ran off about 600 yards, then stopped to look for trouble again, still never having seen me.
The cows in the field were a different story. Some of them had seen me as I emulated a blind sniper in a target-rich environment. What did they do? Exactly what cows everywhere are programmed to do - the unexpected. From all over this pasture, I had cows converging on my position. Curiosity, I think it's called. Maybe they thought, like some oversized Lassy, they would lead the blind man to safety. That, or they figured, 'Hey it's sure making a racket, but maybe that's a new brand of hay that just sounds like a firecracker. Might be tasty.'
As the cows drew near, the antelope doe began to look on with interest. Remember she was all alone except for the cows. Apparently she just wanted company. That, or maybe she had some Cape Buffalo genes in her. She started her charge at 800 yards! I'm not kidding here, she bore down on me at a full gallop.
If you've ever watched an antelope gallop, you know it didn't take long before she closed the range on me. I lay there in disbelief, realizing I was in the midst of a hunting story that I would tell for the rest of my life. I stopped her charge at 200 yards with two more shots.
I'd love to report that the story ended here. Not quite. When I approached her downed carcass, she lifted her head, still not deceased. I was really sick now, hating to see a critter suffer, so I raised my rifle for the coup de grace (shot number 14 for the scorekeepers) at 20 yards. She folded at the shot, but some unidentified object went flying into the air about twenty feet overhead. I walked over and saw that, unbelievably (am I overusing that word here?), I had shot her tongue clean out at the root and propelled it into the clear blue sky.
[I went back to my shooting spot, readily identified by the pile of expended brass, and stepped off the yardage to my first 11 shots. Four hundred ninety yards! I purchased a rangefinder within the month.]
[Did you know that you can't write the second half of the word "firecracker" on here? Rhymes with slacker, and is apparently a really bad word. Watch: fire cracker. God I love PC.]
It was my first antelope hunt, and I was really into it, crawling around for hours on end. I spent more time on elbows and knees than on my feet. Anyhow, I spotted this lone antelope doe and began a long stalk. In the course of an hour and a half I crawled up onto a berm that gave me a nice prone shot at her.
She was in company of a herd of cows, no other antelope in sight. I had no range finder and guessed the range to be about 300, maybe 325. I squeezed off my first shot. Nothing. The antelope started looking around for the source of the racket, but I was well-concealed, so she didn't see me.
I shot again. And again. And again. Nothing times 3. Now I've emptied my rifle (I only load 4 rounds at a time in my 270). I reloaded in some agitation, but the doe stood for it. Four more shots blasted down range. No results. Antelope still standing there. Me frantically reloading for a third time.
Stupidity, they say, consists of doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result on the next try. I guess you could say Stupidity was my middle name on this day. I held stubbornly to my belief in a 300 yard shot, and continued holding at the top of the spine, just into the hair at her backline. Three more shots rang out (that makes 11 shots for you scorekeepers out there). Nothing.
At this point I quit. Just set the rifle down and said screw it. Something triggered in my mind that by stopping there, I was avoiding emptying my rifle 3 times. For some reason, that carried some weight with me. Plus, I was running out of rounds, and I like to keep a few rounds available forif I encounter one of Patrick McManus' FMCs. (That's Fast Mean Cows for the great unwashed.)
Well, at about this point, the little doe decided she should leave the area, having given me more than a fair shot by any standard. She ran off about 600 yards, then stopped to look for trouble again, still never having seen me.
The cows in the field were a different story. Some of them had seen me as I emulated a blind sniper in a target-rich environment. What did they do? Exactly what cows everywhere are programmed to do - the unexpected. From all over this pasture, I had cows converging on my position. Curiosity, I think it's called. Maybe they thought, like some oversized Lassy, they would lead the blind man to safety. That, or they figured, 'Hey it's sure making a racket, but maybe that's a new brand of hay that just sounds like a firecracker. Might be tasty.'
As the cows drew near, the antelope doe began to look on with interest. Remember she was all alone except for the cows. Apparently she just wanted company. That, or maybe she had some Cape Buffalo genes in her. She started her charge at 800 yards! I'm not kidding here, she bore down on me at a full gallop.
If you've ever watched an antelope gallop, you know it didn't take long before she closed the range on me. I lay there in disbelief, realizing I was in the midst of a hunting story that I would tell for the rest of my life. I stopped her charge at 200 yards with two more shots.
I'd love to report that the story ended here. Not quite. When I approached her downed carcass, she lifted her head, still not deceased. I was really sick now, hating to see a critter suffer, so I raised my rifle for the coup de grace (shot number 14 for the scorekeepers) at 20 yards. She folded at the shot, but some unidentified object went flying into the air about twenty feet overhead. I walked over and saw that, unbelievably (am I overusing that word here?), I had shot her tongue clean out at the root and propelled it into the clear blue sky.
[I went back to my shooting spot, readily identified by the pile of expended brass, and stepped off the yardage to my first 11 shots. Four hundred ninety yards! I purchased a rangefinder within the month.]
[Did you know that you can't write the second half of the word "firecracker" on here? Rhymes with slacker, and is apparently a really bad word. Watch: fire cracker. God I love PC.]
01-31-2007, 11:35 AM
#5
Nontypical Buck
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: wisconsin
Posts: 1,061
RE: Most Humiliating Hunting Experience
Ever had diareah in an ice storm with waders on.You guessed it.You can hold-hold-hold but when she blows theres no slamming that back door!
I went skinny dipping on the delta last feb.Now tell me thats not embarassing!!
I went skinny dipping on the delta last feb.Now tell me thats not embarassing!!
01-31-2007, 02:03 PM
#6
Join Date: Dec 2006
Location:
Posts: 175
RE: Most Humiliating Hunting Experience
anyone had a #2 in the bush and wipe themselves with something they shouldn't of.... haven't heard of that in a while... always brings a grin to me anyways... maybe others don't think thats so funny.... ummm.... soooo....
01-31-2007, 03:41 PM
#8
Join Date: Aug 2005
Location: The Boonies, Alaska
Posts: 83
RE: Most Humiliating Hunting Experience
a few years back up at moose camp, i had a little too much soda or sumthin the night before, and at about 3AM i needed out of that tent NOW. so in the pitch black alaskan darkness i scramble outta of the tent and try to keep quiet so i dont wake anyone up and they think im a bear before they realise im not in the tent. so i sneak up to the first patch of brush i can trip over, and let loose the flow. as soon as it hits the ground, the brush explodes into a fury of wings. i fell straight on my butt, still peeing. amazingly i made it out of the situation dry and with a new bit of learned knowledge. grouse like to spend the night in the brush right outside camp, and they dont like being peed on.
02-01-2007, 02:34 PM
#9
Typical Buck
Thread Starter
Join Date: Dec 2003
Posts: 590
RE: Most Humiliating Hunting Experience
Very good question dayna0306! I have wondered the same thing as I thought back on it. Why couldn't I have noticed dust flying? I don't know. My rounds were dropping something like 50 inches at that range, and on flat ground maybe they were hitting like 200 yards short of the target? Or I was too zoned in on the spot of my hold to see anything else?
02-01-2007, 02:57 PM
#10
Join Date: Apr 2005
Location: Missouri
Posts: 1,429
RE: Most Humiliating Hunting Experience
Semi hunting story:
We where on our way back from a hunting trip. Tooling across South Dakota one evening. My buddy says he needs to make a stop. I say ok at the next truck stop I'll pull over. About a mile down I-90, he says "pull over I got a powerful stomach cramp!" Now anyone who's traveled I-90 knows that there is some isolate land out there, and we are smack in the middle of miles of picked fields. No cover. He says to pull over anyway. So I do. Its dark, we're in the middle of nowhere, what's it gonna hurt?
Well my buddy heads off into the field to get out of sight of the headlights. I get out and walk around to the ditch to release some coffee while we're stopped. And who should show up just then? The LAW. He commenced to tell me that I could be ticketed for indescent exposure etc etc. Then he asks me if I'm alone. So I tell him I'm traveling with a buddy. He wants to know where he is. I tell him out in that field takin a dump. So ole smokey walks to his cruiser and turns on the spot light and starts shining it out across the field to verify what my buddy is doing. Yours eyes just follow the swath of illuminate earth as it sweeps across the field. A flash of pale white. the beam stops and goes back to center up the patch of white. You guessed it, my buddies stark white butt pointed straight at the highway doing his business. Just then a semi goes by blarring his air horn, and my buddies eyes got as big as dinner plates. A total deer in the headlights situation. I laughed all the way back to missouri.
We where on our way back from a hunting trip. Tooling across South Dakota one evening. My buddy says he needs to make a stop. I say ok at the next truck stop I'll pull over. About a mile down I-90, he says "pull over I got a powerful stomach cramp!" Now anyone who's traveled I-90 knows that there is some isolate land out there, and we are smack in the middle of miles of picked fields. No cover. He says to pull over anyway. So I do. Its dark, we're in the middle of nowhere, what's it gonna hurt?
Well my buddy heads off into the field to get out of sight of the headlights. I get out and walk around to the ditch to release some coffee while we're stopped. And who should show up just then? The LAW. He commenced to tell me that I could be ticketed for indescent exposure etc etc. Then he asks me if I'm alone. So I tell him I'm traveling with a buddy. He wants to know where he is. I tell him out in that field takin a dump. So ole smokey walks to his cruiser and turns on the spot light and starts shining it out across the field to verify what my buddy is doing. Yours eyes just follow the swath of illuminate earth as it sweeps across the field. A flash of pale white. the beam stops and goes back to center up the patch of white. You guessed it, my buddies stark white butt pointed straight at the highway doing his business. Just then a semi goes by blarring his air horn, and my buddies eyes got as big as dinner plates. A total deer in the headlights situation. I laughed all the way back to missouri.