Guss

This winter has been a killer and I am getting a little stircrazy. My fall was nothing to write about, but I know some of you guys have to have some good stories out their. So if you dont mind I bet alot of readers would love to hear them.

Rich Baker

About two years ago I was packing a 5X5 Bull Elk out of the starky unit (Oregon)in september at 7pm I had a cat following me at about 20 yards he was useing bushes for cover. I just knocked a arrow and kept walking it was getting dark fast and I was in a dark canyon I had a hind quarter and a front quarter on my pack board and I knew I was not going to out run it or climb anything, So I picked up the pace a bit and found that, that got him in even closer so I turned and tried to pull my bow back and get a arrow off at him but this was a little hard after all I had a 100lb's on my back. Anyway I missed , he ran up the hill about 50 yards and kept following, I finally got to the truck with the meat in the dark and threw it in the back and thought about getting the rest the next morning but that was not going to happen because the wife knew I was comming home that night and I had to work the next day so I sat in the truck for about a hour and honked the horn a few times. then grabbed the lantern and started to make the 3 mile trip back to were the bull was.
Did you ever see the movie Jeramia Johnson ? there was this guy who talked real loud to himself. Well that was me the whole way back and every noise made me think of bigfoot and cats and bears and well you get the picture. I got to the kill sight and the meat was still hanging in the game bags but the gut pile already had some visiters and low and behold there were COUGER TRACKS!!! Now I'm 3 miles back in this canyon with a bow and a lantern and the rack both quarters on my back Im tired and scared sh!t less and all by myself. The trip out was almost the death of me. Id go a 100 yards and stop, try to catch my breath, and my glasses would fog up and I could see better with out them and I'm darn near blind with out them, so I took them off and then Id go 50 yards and my legs just started to give out and I was sweeting and I heard something up the hill behind me and I freaked!!! I struggeled to get up and run , but the weight was too much and my leg gave out going over some blow down and that was the end of my lantern. I thought I would just pull out my flash light but I left it in my fanny pack back at the truck. I just screamed (help!!!) as if some one would come to my rescue. I then find that my glasses that I took off and put in my pocket were gone. they fell out somewere along the trail.
Lucky for me there was a full moon that night and I could kind of make out the trail, I got off it a few times but I always got back on so after a few hours of go fifty yards and rest it happened again! I heard a animal running at me from up on the hill I started to kind of run, and then I saw my truck up in the distince the white ford just seamed to glow, but this animal was on a dead run at me and it was to late he was on me! I was screaming and I felt his clause on my chest and then I went down to the ground and tried to cover my face and neck and then I felt him licking my hand and then I felt his cold nose near my ear and then I heard A load shout (Zip, come zip!!) yes thats right it was a Damn Dog>> Scared the sh!t out of me, I mean I was crying and all. Felt stupid to. Appearently some one decided to camp near the trail head and they got a great laugh at my expence.
Cheers Rich

Rich Baker

Dear Friends,

Beth is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be something
akin to, "hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!" Well, I have outdone
myself once again. No doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a
LifeTime movie in the near future. Here goes. Last weekend I spied
something at Larry's Pistol and Pawn that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in
mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled. Beth sent me into Star Market to
pick up some milk yesterday and I bought a superball in the checkout
line--50 cents. What a bargain! It tickled my fancy--still does. That
thing bounces soooooo high, and it has provided me with hours of
entertainment. It just doesn't get any better than that, now does it?)

I'm so easily distracted. That dang superball is so much fun. So what were
we talking about? Oh yeah, I bought something really cool at Larry's
Pistol and Pawn last Saturday. The occasion was our 22nd anniversary and I
was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl. What I came
across was a 100,000 volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with a clip. For
those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a
less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate
an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while
you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no
long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time
to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. tattooed
assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering,
goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've
never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing
out--way too cool!

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two
triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was
so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin'
directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would
not create an arch between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire
for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it
against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting
back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did
so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!!
Yipeeeeee . . . I'm easily amused, just fyi, but I have yet to explain to
Beth what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave . . . ruuuu roooo.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it
couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-a batteries, etc., etc.
There I sat in my recliner, my dog Molly looking on intently (trusting
little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Molly), and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood
target. I must admit I thought about zapping Molly for a fraction of a
second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet doggy, after all.
But, if I was going to give this thing to Beth to protect herself against
a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I
wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time . .
.

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses
perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Tazer
in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and
disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle
spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would
purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of
water. All the while I'm looking at this little device (measuring about 5"
long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded
with two itsy, bitsy triple-a batteries) thinking to myself, "no boody
way!" Bloody way--trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.
Those of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what
followed. I'm sitting there alone, Molly looking on with her head cocked
to one side as to say, "don't do it daddy," reasoning that a one-second
burst from such a tiny lil' ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad (sound,
rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided
to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You
know, a bad decision is like hindsight--always twenty-twenty. It is so
obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed
so right at the time. Don't ya hate that?) I touched the prongs to my
naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY **************! DAaaaauuuuuuMN!!!
I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked
me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and
over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position,
nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left
arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. Molly was standing over
me making whimpering sounds I had never heard before, licking my face,
undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again daddy, do it again!" (Note:
If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Tazer, one note of
caution. There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap
yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged
from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you're
lucky, you won't dislodge one of the prongs 1/4" deep in your thigh like
yours truly.) SON-OF-A-***** that hurt! A minute/so later (I can't be
sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits
(what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading
glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there??? My
triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt
like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.
+/- an ounce/two, I'm pretty sure. By the way, has anyone seen my
testicles? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. They're round,
rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome if I must say so myself. They make
a clanging sound, and were last seen hanging from Beth's rearview mirror.
Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back.

NOTE TO MEN: DO NOT buy your wife a Tazer gun. Beth's is broke now and it
may be awhile before I get around to fixing the damn thing.

NOTE TO WOMEN: Buy lots of batteries . . . think of the possibilities.

This message is provided to you as a public service to illustrate that
stupid should hurt, and most assuredly always does in my case. Have a nice
day!

Wingbone

This took place on Dec. 28th.

4" of fresh snow on the ground. My buddy calls. "It's a good night to get out". So we go.
I get set up on a good trail. A lot of fresh tracks. The wind is right. It's a yellow birch tree, lots of cover. About quarter after 4, here comes a doe and fawn down the trail. It looks like she's going to swing wide, but she comes right underneath me, 8 yard shot. I draw. There is no bow creaking, no noise, but she hears my clothes rustle and jumps just enough and at the right angle that I don't have a shot. She looks around, sees nothing, relaxes, and moves on, the fawn catching up. That's the story of my season, one thing after another going wrong.
There is still, however, plenty of light. And, a few minutes later, I see 3 more deer coming down the same trail. As the first one gets closer, I see a rack. The rack is outside the ears. It's a nice 8 pt. buck. I don't look at the rack any more. He continues to come in the footsteps of the previous doe. As he gets to be in shooting position, I draw VERY slowly, no rustling. I get on him, (picking a spot) and release. Immediately I see that I didn't get the penetration that I expected. I figured I went through the shoulder blade. He runs in an arc, stops just in my vision, and takes off again. I can hear the arrow hit every tree that he passes.
I get down out of the tree and go get my buddy. He asks questions about the shot. He's pretty optimistic that we'll find the deer. I'm not. We find the running track and follow. Pretty soon we get good blood spray, consistantly good blood spray. With that arrowhead sticking through the shoulder blade, as he's running, he's slicing and dicing his lungs. After about 150 yd. of a much better blood trail than I expected, there he is. My buddy is ahead of me and finds him first. "That's not your deer!". "What do you mean, that's not my deer?". "It's got no rack!"
I look. The bastard shed his antlers on his death run. The sockets still had blood dripping.
While I gut him out, my buddy backtracks to see if he can find the rack. He comes back with one antler. We dragged him out and got to register him as an antlered buck because we could show the one antler fit the socket.
The next day we went back and found the other one. I bleeched out the scull and glued the rack back on as best I could. He's got heavy antlers with a 15" spread. It really is a nice buck.

RobinHood36

I posted this story last year, but for those of you who might not of read it here it is:

My boy and I, and a good buddy of ours were elk hunting, and my boy and I were on this logging road and looked off to the side and seen something moving around in this thick brush. We thought it was a bear, so we picked up these big rocks and started launching them towards this thing that kept moving around. It would move one way and then another way, like it was stuck in this huge thick brush patch, we must've launched maybe 15 big rocks, and it still just kept moving around, so we figured it must be a range cow. We made it back to the pickup and are friend showed up and said he ended up walking into a brush patch and had a heck of a time finding his way out of it, me and my boy just looked at each other, and did'nt say a word!!!