Okay, I have one.
My Dad and I booked a bear hunt at the Harrisburg show back in (I think) 1982. We were going to bowhunt bears, and nobody wanted to guide us except for this guy "Harold". We were recurve shooters, but we had our "hi-tech" wheelies to go bear hunting.
Well, Harold was more than welcome to have us because he guided gun hunters and was trying to get some "primitive" hunters in his camp. You see....he had killed a bear with a spear! and was building a bowie knife to kill one with.
(This guy was certifiable, and wanted to make a name for himself. If I remember correctly his name was Harold Schmidt and he operated a lodge on upper Shin Pond in Patten)
So he puts me, at age 16 (having never been in the BIG woods, and all the Bigfoot stories floating around) in the stand he killed his "spear bear". I saw absolutely nothing for two days. He told me to walk another mile back one day and climb in to a very high stand for a change. This stand was so high that a 40 yard shot was straight down!. I got up there and immediately fell asleep.
I awoke, nearly falling out of the stand (safety belts hadn't been invented yet) to a giant "CRASH", and watched a tree finish falling. I thought I saw a large black thing, way bigger than a bear. I sat for another hour looking at every possible movement and decided it was time to get the heck out of there.
I climbed down and never looked back. I was "on the hoof"! I looked like the FTD man in the express lane. I do remember looking over at my original stand site thinking I should sit there for the rest of the evening. NOT HAPPENIN'....I was gone to the road.
That was the worst time I had. I got to the road and realized I had a couple of hours of light left and I was ON THE GROUND. This was a bad thing in my opinion. So I started to walk back to my original "spear" stand. Halfway back I saw another tree fall, and I was GONE! back to the road and looking for something to hide under. What the heck did I know, I was just a dumb kid with a Savora broadhead......no match for the evils of the BIG WOODS.
I waited by that road.....twitching at every fly that farted.........and wanted to believe that I heard the truck coming.
I kept hearing something in the edge of the woods. I crossed the road, and kept on hearing it. It was getting on towards dark and I looked up the road hoping to see a glow of headlights and saw a giant black blur crossing the road. I jumped back to the other side of the road, afraid as all get out to scream, in fear of letting whatever it was know of my presence, and nocked an arrow.
I must have looked like John Voight in Deliverance, holding that bow with the arrow bouncing off the rest like Curly from the Harlem Globe Trotters was dribbling. The sounds I heard from the forest were unsettling to this day, even as I write this.
I watched a large black form in the falling light work its way towards me from the other side of the road. All at once, the brush exploded towards me and as the glow of a headlight peaked over the horizon I found myself at full draw, face to face with one of the largest bull Moose in Maine, a mere roads width from me.
The next thing I seem to remember was "Harold" screaming at me in the truck going down the road asking me why I had not shot the biggest Moose he had ever seen. I had apparently gone blank. To this day, my Dad tells me that they had to take the arrow off my bow, ease my arm from full draw, and slap me awake once I got in the truck (evidently taking several miles to do so).
Scared? Ohhhhh yeahhhh!
Had I known what I know now, I'd have one BIG picture to show ya.