the great hunting story thread....

[gator]

i had a bit of an accident monday and my follow-up today is leaving the early part of duck season in doubt...as such, i'm a bit depressed and could use a pick-me-up....

i cant type very well right now or i'd contribute, but would love to read about ya"lls favorite hunting memory...

gator

[rawalley]

last christmas I hunted by myself, didnt shoot one time, sank my boat, lost all my stuff, went for a little swim. Ah the memories.

[deltadukman]

I had an invite to go hunting with this guy I thought was my friend, we'll call him justin to keep it anonymous.....anyway, he backed out. Long story short, he shot a black duck, in the timber, over his homemade blocks. He wrote a story about it. Slap in the face. Ill see if I can find the link. We'll call this story "karma".

Regards,


Signed: cold in brandon

[levi127]

last christmas I hunted by myself, didnt shoot one time, sank my boat, lost all my stuff, went for a little swim. Ah the memories.

I for one would like to hear more about this happening

[bigwater]

Gator.. Can u shoot left handed?

[novacaine]

i had a bit of an accident monday and my follow-up today is leaving the early part of duck season in doubt...as such, i'm a bit depressed and could use a pick-me-up....

i cant type very well right now or i'd contribute, but would love to read about ya"lls favorite hunting memory...

gator

Come on pus...................don't you have other fingers to pull a damn trigger with!

[MudHog]

Is that the wambulance I hear coming down the road?


can someone locally go remove gaytor's mancard from his possession.

[crackhead]

This one time at duck camp........... HA

Damn dude that sucks! Hope your hand heals quick

[gator]

damn......

getting a duck related conversation going around here is about as likely as getting obama to turn in his food stamps.

i'll climb back in my hole now.....gator

[novacaine]

damn......

getting a duck related conversation going around here is about as likely as getting obama to turn in his food stamps.

i'll climb back in my hole now.....gator

If we can't poke fun at you then whats the point of livin? Hope your finger heals titty boy No really, i do hope your o.k.

Story time now:

Back in tha day we walked to our duck holes thru knee deep snow, up hill, both ways........................... pus

[gator]

yeah yeah yeah

[crackhead]

Last year i hunted over a cool hand carved decoy that did not do any harm to the carver. And we killt a respectable pill of ducks over him.

[woody]

Me and a buddy of mine went scouting on the Rez one day around x-mas a few years back. The boat was solid and the motor was running great. The night before our big hunt we planned to pack a lunch, duck hunt in the morning, and then deer hunt in the afternoon. We had everything: climbers, limb saws, 2-way radios, duck blind amterial in case we needed to throw some up, toilet paper, blind bags filled with everything from different chokes, compass, shells, all kinds of duck and goose calls, then we had our grunt calls, tinks, cover scent, scent lock suits, bows with a dozen arrows each, etc. We were loaded for bear. Originally, we had planned to only duck hunt, but while scouting we ran across some fresh rubs and jumped a few doe. Well, the next morning we launch at the Rocks (apparently the trailer park/neighborhood on the left side of the river north of 43) around 3:30. The canal is frozen solid with about 4" of ice. Extrememly cold morning to say the least. So I try to get at the front of the boat and break the ice up as we go with the butt of my gun. Not thinking that a paddle would have been much better. Well, we get through the ice and into the main channel. As we come around a bend I can see the bank where we were going to dock, but the motor starts spewing white smoke. My buddy, without flinching shuts the motor off to check out the problem. We get in an argument because I thought we should have at least gotten to land before shutting the motor off. He apparently thought otherwise. So he takes the motor cover off and immediately drops it water. After a few expletives, he started looking at the motor. Now, the two of us have no clue what the he!! we are doing or looking at, but we proceed with tapping on a few things and turning this thing and that. By this time we have drifted a few hundred yards past the place where we were going to dock, we couldn't get the motor running, and the sun was coming up. So we are both pissed. After another shouting match, we finally decide that we are going to just paddle back to the boat ramp and call it a day. Well, that wouldn't have been a bad idea if we had remembered to bring a paddle when packing Cabela's huniting sectionin the boat. So we have no paddle and we are about a mile and a half from the ramp. I come up with the idea of using this rubbermade box top to paddle from bank to the bank on one side of the channel, walk the boat along the bank until we couldn't go any further, and then paddle across the channel to the other side and do the same until we make it back. That idea works great until my foot got caught on a root, poked a hole in my waders and sent me for a swim. My buddy laughs histerically in the back of the boat. We argue some more. he gets out and pulls the boat a bit and then he takes a swim. And when we finally made it back to the ramp around 9:00; having lost the motor cover, gone for a swim, not fired a shot, can't speak to each other without yelling, ruined my waders, we see the boat paddles in the back of the truck with the oil my buddy was supposed to put in the motor before heading out.
It was one he!! of a day. Provides a few good laughs when we tell that story.

[MudHog]

The above paddle story reminds me of a trip hunting The Wax.

One weekend 8 or so years ago some buddies and I hunted Wax Lake Delta, The Wax. Total of 5 guys in two boats. We spend the weekend sleeping in tents and was on our last afternoon of hunting. Both boats decided to hunt the bay shore that afternoon. Both boats leave and do their own things. Sunset is approaching and I decide we need to start picking up to head back to the boat ramp. We pickup decoys and nightfall has come in before we start heading back. We make our way to the main channel via GPS and heading back in. About 1/4 way into the 25 minute boat ride I see a white light behind us following. I figure its our buddies in the other boat as we didn't have cell reception. We are heading in crusinging along and can see the boat ramp ahead a hundred yards away. Mind you we are not in the Intracoastal Canal and had already passed up a barge heading in the same direction as us. Motor starts to sputter and kills. Dead in the middle of the ICW (Intracoastal Waterway) and pitch black. Here I am trying to get the motor going again, messing with the primer bulb, the gas tank, the hose connections when all of a sudden I look up and there is the barge approaching us, about the same time we get this blinding light shined on us from the barge. We start scrambling looking for a paddle, NO PADDLE IN THE BOAT!! I glance down and there sitting pretty is my green Coleman ice chest. I rip the lid off and hand it to a buddy to start paddling. We make it to the bank in time for the barge to pass and I continue to fiddle with the motor. Few minutes pass and here comes the boat that was behind us earlier and we are thinking it's out other buddies. NOPE, it's another boat. They ask if we need help and we tell them no that we have some buddies behind us and we'll get them to pull us in. They drive off and we see them pull into the boat ramp. We start trying to call cell phones in the other boat, but we get no answer. A solid hour passes of us continuing to try their cell phones and we finally get an answer. They were just now getting into the main channel after pushing the boat off a sandbar turn mudflat. Ah the joys of hunting tidal areas! So here we are on the bank with a dead motor and here they are just getting into the channel and 30 minutes away. We sit out on the bank and 45 minutes later here comes our rescue boat. After everyone tells stories of what happened, we tie a rope to our tow boat and make it back to the boat ramp.


There are two morals to the story.

1. Put a paddle in the boat.

2. When help is available, utilize the help available at the time.

[cwink]

Date: Thanksgiving Weekend 2005
Game: Ducks and Bucks
Title: The Last Hunt

Thanksgiving weekend has always been a weekend of great anticipation. Just about every year that I have been in MS since moving here in 1996 my Dad has come up for a hunt. This is the first year we will be hunting my new camp up on the Pearl River. I joined it partly because it was close to home (and I have a little one on the way) and partly because it had ducks on it, which has become a passion of mine since about 2000. This year will mark a first and a last. This will be the first time my Dad goes duck hunting and the last time he goes duck hunting. It will also be the last time him and I share a hunt.

The weekend started out as usual for us. Thanksgiving dinner and then some rest. A trip up to camp and we begin preparing for the hunt. The plan is ducks at dawn and bucks at dusk. So early Friday morning we head out to the duck hole. This place is covered up in Wood ducks, but not to many big ducks. It doesn’t bother me, I like wood duck hunting, but Dad might have chosen a little easier targets than the bombarding tree darters. Dad was a great shot-gunner. Since I was about 7 or 8 I don’t think he has missed more than a handful of Thursday night shoots at the gun club. But knocking down clays and knocking down woodies are a different thing all together, especially when he has a autoloader in his hand instead of his traditional O/U. But he gave it a good go. The ducks came in fast and early like wood ducks do. So we only ended up with one drake on Friday morning. But when they stopped flying I started snapping a few pics.

That afternoon Dad and I spent our last time in a deer blind together. Didn’t see any deer but we had fun watching a bunch of coons playing all afternoon.
The next morning we were joined by two of my friends and moved to a bigger hole in hopes of more ducks. My shots were on this morning and I dropped my limit of 2 woodies early and started snapping shots again.
All in all it was a good weekend. Dad wasn’t sure about Duck hunting. He said it was too much work, and that it wore him out. Little did I know it was because he was already sick. In less than 13 months he would be gone. This hunt was one of the first that I really started taking pictures and started keeping a hunting journal.

On October 29th 2006 my Dad would have to be taken to the hospital, and about 6 weeks later on December 14th 2006, just 2 days after my 35th birthday he would pass. In the weeks prior to his death we where planning on moving him up to MS so that we could help take care of him. He didn’t really want to leave his home in Corpus, but knew that he had to go. This hunt will be one of my most cherished hunts, but it pales in comparison to the words he uttered to me on the last few days of his life. When I mentioned that once he moved up here we would be able to do a lot more hunting together, he stated, “Yeah that will be good, we may even have to try Duck Hunting again”

Hopefully one day we will.