Funniest thing that happened to you bowhunting?

[Don Stokes]

At elk camp outside Telluride, we got up one morning and glassed the meadows on the mountains above camp. There was a herd of cows with a good bull, so we hit the trail, figuring they would bed in the black timber nearby. It was about a three mile hike with 1000 foot gain in elevation, around the base of the mountain and up an old mining road to a sheepherder's trail, where we could come up to a high saddle without exposing ourselves to the elk.

When we finally reached the saddle, we sat down for some much-needed rest and to let our lungs catch up to the 10,000 foot altitude. In the low-oxygen euphoria, I told our guide friend a joke that cracked him up so much that we all laughed uncontrollably, rolling around in the grass. The next thing we heard was the herd of elk crossing a scree slide, high-tailing it out of the country! They had been bedded only about 100 yards away, and apparently didn't appreciate the joke at all.

Sure wish I could remember the joke- might have been the one about chipmunks and duct tape...

[straitera]

Coming back to camp after pitch dark and using no flashlight, I had instead a turkey in one hand and my bow in the other, I center stepped a Diamondback in the middle of the trail. You'll know PDQ when you're mind flashes "MISTAKE". Sam was buzzing like a beehive. To this day I don't know how I turned 180 in the air, loosed the turkey one way & bow the other, and hit the deck in full stride? Not knowing or otherwise caring which direction; and most definitely not on purpose, I made short distance of the nearest mesquite tree (known for their sharp needles). Time stopped. In less than a second, I size 13'ed Sammy, escaped, & was captured again by all his buddies doing their best to bite me everywhere I wasn't grabbing. Warm blood (later disproven) trickled down my leg. Never had a heart attack but if it fills up with air & gets hard as a rock at the same time, I was as close as I've ever been. Practiced swooning for awhile after till my thoughts came back. My hunt buds back at camp thought it was hilarious.

[Brian Krebs]

I was out with my bow hunting deer in the winter; and wearing snow camo. As I slowly stalked and spotted with my binoculars; I headed towards a buck; and about half way there; I saw another bowhunter headed my way. He was walking like he was discouraged; and I thought he would stop and talk. But he got closer and closer; and I realized he could not see me at all. So; I let him walk a yard or so by me; and then when he was gone - I started chuckling to myself about my great ability to conceal myself.
 Then there was this loud voice: "THINK YOUR PRETTY SMART - HUH ??".  I think the shock about blew the top of my head off. It was a bowhunter with a longbow; that was a few feet to my right; that was equally well camoed.
  Simple case of Yin and Yang in the space of minutes !

 I might as well tell a crappy story here-
My bowhunting friend and I got up one morning and were going to head out from camp to a spot for elk. Well my buddy had started the truck up; and I got in; and a few minutes later he got in. He looked at me and said 'you smell like crap'.
 I wasn't sure what to say; and he looked at me again and said 'really- you smell like crap !'.
   I didn't know what to say; then he turned to me and said 'get out of my truck- you smell like CRAP !!'.
  So; I did; and he went off bowhunting to one area- and I walked to another.
  At the end of the day; we met back in camp; and he said he owed me an apology. He said he had pooped before getting in the truck; and had not realized in the darkness; that he had 'gone' right on top his suspenders. So when he pulled up his pants and looped on his suspenders - he had paper and all: stuck to the back of his shirt!  

 Hey: and if your hunting with Mike Orton; and he stops and searches his pack and asks if he can borrow your gloves..... don't be a fool and lend him your gloves ! It just means he left his toilet paper in camp !
 ( lesson learned)

[Aeronut]

I was walking in to a stand one afternoon when I noticed something moving through the grass ahead of me.  Thinking it was a skunk I stopped and watched it come closer toward me.  It turned out to be an armadillo.

I watched it until it got within about three feet directly in front of me.  I then reached out and tapped it on the back with my longbow.  The armadillo jumped about three feet straight up, which was a sufficient height for it to get all four feet engaged in high gear, and took off like a shot when it landed headed directly at me.  The resulting impact with my left shin almost knocked me over and left a softball sized bruise on my shin.

The lesson learned was to make sure an armadillo is facing a direction other than toward you before you scare it.

Dennis

[Looper]

That's funny, Dennis.  I had one do the exact same thing to me.  I whacked it with a stick and he ran right into me.  Hurt like hell.

[Thueb]

My funniest hunting story… you asked for it.  This is a fairly long story, but to get the full effect takes time, so sit back and enjoy this with a cup of coffee.  All I can say is it hurts to be young and stupid…

I had just got out of the Marines and was itching to get outdoors, it was springtime in Wyoming, my home state, and a bear hunt was in order.  Now baiting bears is a monster pain in the rump when you’re a broke former Marine who just started college so I thought backpacking into the Wind River Range and spending a few days spotting and stalking bears would be a good idea.    

Well in late April or early May the snow is still deep in that area of the world.  So, I borrowed a buddies four wheeler and planned to use that to access the wilderness area, where I would start backpacking.  Everything was going to plan, it was a beautiful day and I got to the “end of the road” without any problems.  I loaded up the pack, slung it on my back and grab my bow.  

The area has some grizzlies, not too many, but enough to make me think I should probably have some sort of protection.  In Wyoming it is illegal to carry a gun during archery season (it may not be now, but it was then), so my “protection” was a can of bear pepper spray, you know the big industrial size can of extra hot mace.  Like I said, I was broke so I had to borrow a can of this stuff from my brother.

So there I was, ready to take off up the trail, but wondering what to do with this can of bear spray.  This was in the days before all the bear spray cans came with holsters.  I didn’t want to cram it in my pack, what if a bear charged me, and you can’t just hold on to it.  Well I concluded I would cram it in the hand warmer pocket of my fleece jacket.  So with my left hand I not so gently pushed it in the pocket.  This is where everything goes bad…

To be honest, I’m not really sure how all this happened, but I felt the can snag on the lip of my jacket pocket and looked down just in time to catch a full blast of bear pepper spray up the left side of my face.  Honestly folks, I’ve endured some pain in my days but nothing like this.  I immediately realized I had a major problem on my hands, it felt like some one had dipped my face in gasoline, lit it on fire, and stomp it out wearing a golf cleat.  That stuff will stop King Kong in a full charge, guaranteed!  

The blast of pepper spray knocked me off my feet and I landed on my back, still wearing the backpack.  Some reading this story may take issue with this statement, but my momma didn’t raise a dummy.  As I lay there like a flipped over turtle trying desperately to get upright I consciously made a decision not to breathe until I absolutely had to.  The last thing I wanted was that crap in my lungs.  

I got unhitched from my pack about the time I had to breath, and when I did breath a string of professional grade profanity came out that would make my drill instructors proud.  Man, I was in bad shape and decided to take stock of my situation.  My left eye was shut and I wasn’t going to open it anytime soon.  My right eye was watering profusely, and my nose was bubbling snot like a gurgle pot.  I was also hacking and coughing and the pain in my face was unbelievable.    

I needed some first aid and thought the pepper spray can would have some information on it.  With the can of bear pepper spray held about 6 inches from my tear soaked right eye I was able to learn some interesting facts about bear spray.  Fact #1 it’s a federal offence to shoot someone with bear spray, and I now know why.  Fact #2 the effects of bear spray last 45 minutes!  “Holy crap”, I thought “It’s been 45 seconds and I think I’m gonna die!”  Fact #3 if you do shoot yourself with bear spray, your supposed to seek a doctor “IMMIDIATELY”.  That had me concerned because I was at least 4 IMMIDATE hours from a doctor, and all by myself.  The can also said I was supposed to wash with soap and water.

Well, I was SOL on the soap and my little water bottle wasn’t going to get it done.  Looking around with my right eye, I could make out shapes and colors but no detail.  I made out a big white thing I took to be a snow drift and started crawling towards it.  When I got there I reached down scooped up some snow and started rubbing it on my face.  Uncomfortable as snow getting rubbed in your face is usually, I don’t know why I thought this would help; all it did was make matters worse.  Really it felt like someone was taking a cheese grater to my already very injured face.  I stood up, and started cussing again, it made me fell better.  

I recalled crossing a creek on the 4-wheeler maybe a quarter mile back, so I hobbled over to the wheeler, got on, and goter’ fired up.  Like I said, my left eye was out of commission, and my right was watering like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.  Imagine 100 onions in a blender and that’s half the eye watering going on.  So I basically can’t see beyond about 1 foot in front of me.  I start moving slowly down the hill on this “road” which was really an improved goat trail.  I was doing pretty well for about 200 yards, until a branch I didn’t even see hit me and knocked me off the wheeler.  It was like a high speed crash in slow motion. The 4-wheeler continued down the hill, rider-less until it flipped over and crashed into a tree.  

At this point I pretty much lost it.  I started the blind staggers, with lots of moaning, sniveling, coughing, and cussing, down hill until I hit the creek.  Once at the creek I spent the next 45 minutes with my head under water and feet on the bank in a sort of inverted push-up, only coming out of the 40 degree water for air.  At some point, I forced my left eye open and held my head underwater in an attempt to allow the current to flush my eye.  I stated to feel better and I could see well out of my right eye, but my left wasn’t functioning.  My skin hurt and was sensitive to the touch and very sensitive to direct sunlight.  

After I felt better I walked up the hill, found the 4-wheeler, flipped it upright, took stock of the cracked fender, and bent handle bar.  I drove up to retrieve my pack and bow and turned around and headed home.  Shooting yourself with bear pepper spray is definitely a show stopper; I quit having fun and wanted to go home.  By the time I got to the truck and loaded my friend’s broke 4-wheeler I could see out of my left eye, which was a good thing.  I got in and looked in the mirror to check thing out only to find the left side of my face was stained orange!  Good god! I could not catch a break.  It wasn’t like I could just play this off like nothing happened with half my face stained orange!  By the time I drove the 3 hours home, I was feeling better, almost 90%.  But I was really sensitive to direct sunlight for days afterwards.

When I walked in the house; my brother gave me a strange look and asked how my hunt went.  I told him the story and he just laughed and said he forgot to tell me, he dropped the can of bear spray and cracked the plastic firing mechanism.  There was almost a homicide that night…

Well, there it is my funniest hunting story.  I hope you enjoyed it.


Epilogue
I case you were wondering I have no ill health effects from this event.  My vision is fine, and my skin eventually returned to a normal color.  Only my pride and any amount of perceived hunting savvy among my friends was sacrificed.  This episode also cost a then broke former Marine college student a few hundred bucks to get my friend’s 4-wheeler fixed.  

I still use bear spray on occasion, but treat it like a hand grenade that could go off at any second.  Perhaps I should use my Smith and Wesson 44 mag.  If I should ever be as unfortunate to shoot myself in the face with that it would probably cause more damage, but less pain.    

Some research into bear spray shows the active ingredient in the spray is “capsaicinoid compounds” the same things that make chili peppers hot.  A habanero chili pepper has about .002% capsicinoid compounds and bear pepper spray has about 15%.  The pepper spray you would buy your wife or daughter for self defense has about 5% capsacinoid compounds.  Like I said, it will stop King Kong, and make men wish they were dead.

[Doc Nock]

Tom,

Aside from the humor ex post facto in your tellin of the story, there are a few good lessons in there. Thanks!

Fella used to hang here, Bill Wooster, did some guiding out West in what they called Griz Alley.

It was an area full of elk, but where the rangers dumped "nuisance" griz they trapped.

The rangers even carried bandoliers with industrial size bear spray.

In the local "get it all" store, in came a Turon one day. Now you have to hear Bill tell it to really get the flavor, but a "touron" was what they called a greenhorn Tourist MOron, ergo, Tour-on.  

Bill said a guy comes in all decked out in spanking new hiking gear foot to head and wants to know about this "bear spray."

He buys a can and goes out...big rock in the parking area...so he perches on it and starts messin with this can of bear spray...

All of a sudden, an orange cloud envelops this chap and they said an axe murder victim makes less noise.  Doom on Dickey the Touron, but to hear Bill tell it... you had to laugh.

Reading your story was a bit more detailed and I kinda felt the pain right along with you...

Thanks for sharing. Man... that has to leave an impression... Your math sounds right, too.  the 5% stuff effect lasts about 15 min, so the 3X stronger 15% should ought to last 45... Wow.

[straitera]

These are too funny! There's gotta be another skeleton or two in somebody's closet. C'mon folks ante up.

[Tom Leemans]

I was in the stand once, and right about prime time, I had to pee. I hung my bow up, then got the pee bottle and started to go. I hear some soft crunching behind me and look over my shoulder to see a doe and her fawns coming my my. Well, I had to finish first, then screw the cap on the jug and hang it back up, then grab my bow, get an arrow and nock it, etc. Couldn't believe I didn't spook them. I shot the doe and a button buck who just stood there after she bolted off and crashed about 50 yards later.

[Don Stokes]

Tom, Dan Quillian believed that deer are attracted to the sound of peeing! He told me once about getting out of his stand and walking to a nearby creek to let it out. While he was doing it noisily into the water, a big 10 pt. came to check it out. Of course, his bow wasn't close enough to get his hands on it in time. Since that happened, he just peed out of his stand, and swore it sometimes brought deer in.

On of the funniest sights I've seen in the woods was ol' Dan, going in to hunt from the ground on the Big Pine club that he and I were members of in south GA. He had found a fake fur coat at a yard sale somewhere that was multi-colored, and he decided it made good camo. He looked like a drag queen dressed to kill! Dan was a unique individual, a true iconoclast.

[riivioristo]

Hello!

Couple of years ago I was hunting first time russian boars in Estonia, in all new settings to me (terrain, country, game spieces)I was still hunting in this woodlot, witch included couple of fallen spruces and lots of frozen leafs from oaks and other leafy trees...now, I try to move so slowly because of these noisy leafs, when suddenly I hear CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH behind one of those fallen, thick spruces...I was sure, that much noise could come only from a major boar walking in those leafs...adrenaline was pumbing high and my grip from the bow was so tense...CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH coming near to end of the fallen tree and I knew in any second the beast would be visible...CRUNCH, CRUNCH...my pulse rate was in red alert and I was telling to myself to calm, pick a spot and stuff...and THEN I saw the noisemaker...a little squiller came from there in his way to next oak...because of those frozen leafs his footsteps made such a racket one could never belive such a little critter could perform that noise...after I could breath again, I was lafing to myself quite a lot...

[joevan125]

Risto             Now thats funny.

[Hit-or-Miss]

My experience was painful, but funny in retrospect.
  This past October, 15' up in my tree stand, I sat with my nice vintage 1968 Bear Kodiak Hunter in my lap. A brisk, perfect day in the Maine woods, and the warm sunshine showing all the fall colors on the leaves.
   I had the arrows hanging in my quiver on a branch to my right. I was waiting for a deer, but that pesky grey tree rat kept scurrying back and forth in the leaves. So I decided to swap my broad head, on the string, for a judo tip (in the quiver, on the branch), and take a shot. After all, one can never get enough practice.
   As I turned to my right to get my judo arrow, my left elbow bumped my bow, and before I could grab it, it began it's fall to the forest floor. It seemed to float in slow motion! As I watched in horror, my hands grasping at thin air, my mint condition bow landed on the ground, bounced once, and came to rest a few mere inches from a rock! I sat there in disblief and horror, and the squirrel ran off in the direction of New Hampshire, obviously happy that this mornings predator was about as agile as a Sasquatch with hemroids on ice skates.
   One small scratch as a lesson to me, and aside from that and my pride, no damage. As I climbed back up into my perch with my bow, I had to laugh to myself, as I'm sure that off in the distance, the squirrel was laughing even louder!

[Over&Under]

Up for more laughs!!    

Man there have been some doozies here guys that had me in stitches!!

[Winterhawk1960]

Back about 10 years ago, a friend that I used to work with's family had a cabin that he invited me and a couple other people up to for the weekend to do a little hunting.

We had all gotten up, ate a quick breakfast, had a cup of coffee or two and headed out for the morning. It was agreed that we all would meet back at the cabin, somewhere around noon. It was fairly cold outside, and we all had on all the cold weather gear that we owned.

Upon arriving back at the cabin, we headed inside for a little more substantial and belly filling lunch. We were all sitting around the table, and one of Toby's friends said "I smell poop".........Nah, everyone said.......someone just released some built up gas. There wasn't another word spoken about the "smell". We were outside on the porch, getting ready to head back to our stands for the evening sit and another of Toby's friends said......."I smell it now, and it does smell like poop". Several of us, mosey over to see if these guys are imagining things or what..........NOPE........something smells like poop.

About this time, you can see us all lifting up our feet and checking to see if we have anything of that nature attached to the boot soles.

Nope.............nothing on any of our boots.

We all start "sniffing" out the source of the odor, and it leads us over to poor ole' Toby.

It seems that he had to "answer natures call" that morning and when he dropped his coveralls and his hooded sweatshirt underneath that he didn't pull them up far enough forward, when he squatted to drop a chilupa.

Yep.........his hood on his sweatshirt was indeed the source of the "poop" smell. You oughta seen him gettin' outa them clothes.

He had us all checking to see if he had any of "it" on him......anywhere. Luckily, he didn't or if he did, we couldn't see it. He promptly threw his sweatshirt in the firepit outside.

I guess if there was a "good" part to this story, for poor ole' Toby.........it would have been that he didn't pull the hood up over his head.........afterwards.

That's my story........and I'm sticking to it.

Disclaimer: The names of the people may have been changed to protect the innocent.

Winterhawk1960

[Pinecone]

I can't top any of these stories, but I have had a couple of comical experiences that I'll share around our spontaneous campfire.

I took a novice hunting a couple of years ago and we were sitting in a natural ground blind (brush pile) that was in front of a big oak tree.  The blind was adjacent to a block of woods, and was positioned about 20 yards out into a field where deer often  walked on their way through the pasture feeding.  At almost dark we began to hear something coming through the woods and toward our position.  As the sound grew louder, I told my friend to get ready for a shot as I expected the "deer" to emerge from the woods at any moment.
I can not tell you look of shock we both had when
the "deer" materialized as a skunk and waddled quickly in our direction.  My gosh, I didn't know two people could move that fast!  I still laugh every time I think about that experience!

My final story is a true comedy of errors.  I was bowhunting down in west Texas when I wide antlered 8 pointer gave me a broadside shot.  I thought the distance to the buck was about 19 yards, so from my perch in a well-leafed live oak tree, I drew and released an arrow...shooting right under the deer.  The big buck hopped once, looked around, and came right back to almost the exact spot where he had been standing previously.  Determined not to miss, I concentrated intently and launched another cedar on its way...again shooting right under the buck.  The deer was only slightly suspicious and once again dropped his head to feed, ignoring the signs of danger.  I couldn't believe it!!!Okay...third time must be a charm, I thought.  When the deer turned broadside yet again, I tried to steady myself to make good on my opportunity and shot one more time.  This time, I shaved hair from beneath the buck's chest and watched my third arrow bury harmlessly into the same bush that provided the backstop for the other two arrows.  Needless to say, Mr. Whitetail decided to relocate to a palce that provided less drama!
When I climbed down from the tree to retrieve my arrows, they were all tightly grouped together at the base of the bush...not even a smidgen of blood to be found.  I could not understand how I could have missed this buck three times, so I took out my range finder and checked the distance...23 yards. I'm a gap shooter and I was shooting for the wrong range!        

All I can say is that as long as that old buck lived, I'm sure he smiled every time he thought of the brilliant bowhunter who forgot to use her range finder until after the hunt! Just call me Einstein  

Claudia

[pronghorn23]

Lukily I can't top any of these either!

I've got two.

I was hunting with a friend who's one of these guys that whatever goes wrong can..but half of it he brings on himself.

The night before hunting we hit a local restaurant for dinner. Later that night he complained he didn't feel good but my wife and I dismissed it as him over reacting.

We were staying in an old farmhouse, sleeping in the upstairs as another group was on the first floor. In the middle of the night my wife gets up to use the bathroom downstairs and finds my buddy curled in the fetal position, lying on the stairway landing moaning and shivering. She helps him back into his bed.

We got up to get ready to hunt and he says I don't feel good and runs outside to vomit. He's out there for a bit, comes back in and says he vomited on his shoes. When asked how the heck he did that he said he ran over to the barb wire fence by the pasture leaned over and didn't realize his shoes were sticking out on the other side of the fence.

He stayed at the house and when I came back for lunch I told him he should eat something. He complained he thought he got food poisoning, that he was never eating anything natural again, and proceeded to hork down a lunch of Sprite and red licorice-cause that will make you feel better.
We tried to talk him into staying so we could keep an eye on him but he insisted he was leaving and elected to drive the 5 hours home by himself.

A couple days later I returned home and called him to see how he made it. He made it all right-in his pants...bout halfway home he had to dispose of his underwear along the Interstate. I laughed so hard I cried.

Another time I was hunting a limited access public area. There's a lottery system to get in and sometimes there's alot of hunters trying to get in and your lucky if you do get in.

Anyways, my number was picked and I got in. I had a stand site picked out where earlier I had a nice doe and fawn just out of range. I was pumped to get in and return to the same spot.

It was in the upper teens. After parking the truck I opened the back hatch, pull out my tupperware bin of hunting clothes and my eyes pop out as I realize I grabbed the wrong bin and these are all of my summer hunting clothes. (They've since been labeled.)

Well I'd been up since 3am, got in and was pumped to sit the same area so I put on the only camo I had-chamois shirt and pants, cotton gloves-and headed out to see how long I could last. I made it until about a half an hour after sunrise. When I went to climb out of my stand I almost couldn't get down because I was so stiff from the cold and my fingers weren't fully functional.

Wasn't funny at the time and wasn't smart but I was so pumped to be out there. And no I didn't see anything because I was shivering so bad.

[hayslope]

I got tears streaming out of my eyes from laughing so hard after reading that first post........

[awishanew]

I was sitting in my stand and it was approx. -20 deg.C. I had that second cup of coffee in the morning and figured I could stay in my stand till 10 am. Being past 65 years of age when you got to go you better do it. I got down from my stand and walked about 200 yds to the landing and started digging for willie. Along with frozen hands and 3 pairs of underware I was struggling. I finally ripped everything down and after finding relief I almost peed myself laughing as one of my pairs of longjohns had no fly in them. No wonder they were on sale. And yes they were mens.

[7 Lakes]

I have a bunch of stories but I'll start with this one:

I snore, acording to my wife I snore loud and deep.  

On one hunt I fell asleep leanin against a fallen tree.  I woke to a silent forest but when I opened my eyes there were at least 8 deer within spiting distance. They were staring at me like something out of the Twilight Zone.  We all stared at each other for a few minutes (probably seconds) until I tried moving my bow.  All the deer went into a panic, they weren't the only ones disturbed.  

The best I can figure they crept up on me because of the snoring. I think I called em in.  

Is it illegal to play a tape of myself snoring while hunting??