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Deer camp stories

Belt Fed

Belt Fed

Ronin
You guys that hunt i know you have them, i'll start off.

we had a guy in camp a few years that was a character, a good guy but was a prankster. He was a mechanic at a truck stop and was always getting crazy stuff out of them trucks when they would bring the rentals back. he got this blow up doll one time and it was one of them cheapo kind, Not that i would know 😁 but any way he put that thing in my sleeping bag in my camper.

I got through hunting for the night and finally got around to getting ready for bed. sit down on the edge of the bed takin my boots off and turned around and seen the head with bright red lips with a round open mouth and scared the hell outta me. i pulled the top of the bag open and there it is in all it's glory, a vinyl naked woman.

Well he wasn't there that day so i deflated it and stuck it under the bed and forgot about it. about a week later after supper i was looking under the bed for some tools and seen it. i said oh crap, i got to get rid of this thing. the son was coming down to hunt and bringing the grandson, now they were really young back then and i knew they would be into everything.

Now it just so happened that he was sitting at the campfire with three or four new members. i thought it's payback time. So i dragged that deflated doll out to the fire and said Danny, i told you a 100 times you don't need this thing when i'm down here and threw him a kiss. oh man, the the looks on them new guys faces was priceless. they are thinkin what have i got myself into.:ROFLMAO:
 
Have several hunting buddies that have places all to their own and not part of our group. Well, they send me monster buck picks.
I crop and edit them and send to a a lease member who tells “trophy” stories who hunts on my lease nearby to me.
I’m always..” man how come this dude isnt there when I am? You should go get him”. He sat for days waiting on him … 😊😝😉🦌🦌🦌
 
Belt Fed said:
You guys that hunt i know you have them, i'll start off.

we had a guy in camp a few years that was a character, a good guy but was a prankster. He was a mechanic at a truck stop and was always getting crazy stuff out of them trucks when they would bring the rentals back. he got this blow up doll one time and it was one of them cheapo kind, Not that i would know 😁 but any way he put that thing in my sleeping bag in my camper.

I got through hunting for the night and finally got around to getting ready for bed. sit down on the edge of the bed takin my boots off and turned around and seen the head with bright red lips with a round open mouth and scared the hell outta me. i pulled the top of the bag open and there it is in all it's glory, a vinyl naked woman.

Well he wasn't there that day so i deflated it and stuck it under the bed and forgot about it. about a week later after supper i was looking under the bed for some tools and seen it. i said oh crap, i got to get rid of this thing. the son was coming down to hunt and bringing the grandson, now they were really young back then and i knew they would be into everything.

Now it just so happened that he was sitting at the campfire with three or four new members. i thought it's payback time. So i dragged that deflated doll out to the fire and said Danny, i told you a 100 times you don't need this thing when i'm down here and threw him a kiss. oh man, the the looks on them new guys faces was priceless. they are thinkin what have i got myself into.:ROFLMAO:
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Okay!!! 🤣 🤣🤣! I just aspirated popcorn...it has been a day.🤣:oops:
 
My uncle almost setting the rez on fire with fireworks, being aggressively questioned by some natives after my brother acted the fool, and my other uncle introducing me to guns at 12 years old with a slug in a Pardner 12 gauge and no warning come to mind. Native land can be exciting even when you have permission.
 
Lots of stories of having to go take a dump in the woods. i once hunted about 120 miles from the house many years ago, so one night after the hunt my guts got to growlin real bad and i to hit the outhouse before i left to come home. so i yanked me drawers down and done my thing and started home, well got home and my wallet wasn't in my pants. i knew exactly where it was, 120 miles from there in the outhouse.

so this is about 10 at night and i tell the wife i gotta go back to camp. she ain't likin it and went with me. sure enough i get back up there and it's there under the seat on the ground. we get home about 2 the next morning. from then on i have wore a wallet with a chain on it.

Another time i stop and eat at a fast food restaurant and about half way there my stomach starts hurting. so i pull the truck over and take off for the woods. it's fixin to storm, i squatted up against a tree for a good long time and every time i go to pull my pants up here it comes again, anyway the storm makes it and i get soaked.

finally eased up enough where i got really close to camp and then started pukin. spent all night on the outhouse with a bucket to puke in.

Another time i had to get down out of the tree stand to go and it's cold as all get out. there is ice all over the ground, i forgot the toilet paper. no leaves anywhere to use. everything is under ice. so i used my knife to cut my undies up for TP.

Another time my son was old enough to hunt on his own and we are coming back home from the hunt at night, i keep smelling crap. we did run dogs hunting and i ask him did you step in dog crap. he said no with out looking. he says i smell it now and ask me if i did, i said no without looking.

so we drive a little farther and it just gets worse, i said that's it one of uf has crapped our pants, so i pull over on the side of the highway and grab a flashlight and say strip em down. he takes his coveralls off and what he had done was before we left lean up against a tree and didn't have his coveralls off enough and most of it went down in them and all over the back of his boot. i said boy yer mama gonna kill both of us.
 
benstt said:
My uncle almost setting the rez on fire with fireworks, being aggressively questioned by some natives after my brother acted the fool, and my other uncle introducing me to guns at 12 years old with a slug in a Pardner 12 gauge and no warning come to mind. Native land can be exciting even when you have permission.
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My wife’s friend ( she just left an hour ago in fact) used to live in Wyoming and Montana. She was a teacher on the rez. I have full on permission to hunt the rez anytime. I haven’t taken her up on it though.
 
Bassbob said:
My wife’s friend ( she just left an hour ago in fact) used to live in Wyoming and Montana. She was a teacher on the rez. I have full on permission to hunt the rez anytime. I haven’t taken her up on it though.
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Being surrounded by a bunch of natives with shotguns in a place your body would never be found with a brother who doesn't know when to shut his ****ing mouth is a fun time. It's nice to go there because there're fewer hunters. You just have to know how to be cool if things happen.
 
My best hunting story:

Sat on a poweline cut all day and saw nothing. Had to pee twice and went back the way I came in to do so. I had never had a deer come from that direction so no need to be concerned about it.

About 3:30pm heard 2 squirrels running and chasing each other. About 4pm, I heard another racket in the direction the squirrels were and dismissed it. About 4:15, I heard another noise closer to me and looked over my right shoulder, above and behind me. Standing 30 feet away was the biggest whitetail buck I had ever seen while hunting. For the next 30 seconds, we both were trying to figure out our next move. My rifle was across my lap, pointed the wrong way. After a few seconds of eye to eye stare down, he decided he didn't like me and here he came on a full run, head down. I threw my rifle his general direction and pulled the trigger. At the blast and from less than 10feet, he turned and went back into the woods from the direction he came. I sat there for an hour, smoking cigarettes and wondering what the f**k just happened. My only guess is he smelled where I peed and come looking for the intruder in his territory.
 
When I was about 20 yrs old I turkey hunted in the Texas Panhandle with 2 older buddies who hunted there for decades.
They put me on a water tank/ windmill before sunrise and said sit under a tree about 25 yards away and be still. Told me Turkeys usually hit that tank within an hour after sunrise .
Since we had stayed up late that night previous partying, i fell asleep promptly when I sat down at the tree.
Startled awake to a “Series of super loud Gobbles” in me ear. Like super loud. Turkeys everywhere. Prob 30 of them. Big tom gobbled 10 feet to my right. 2 hens about 5 feet away staring at me. Gun across my lap.
“Oh 💩!”
Grab the gun and go for a quick shot.
Yeah, right😬
As my hand went for the gun, those 2 hens busted out the alarm bells and 30 turkeys disappeared into the woodline in a nanosecond 😳😳😳😩😩😩

Buddies came to pick me up for lunch.
“Did you see any?”
Yep
“Get a shot off?”
Nope

And didnt ever say why 🤠🤠😝😞😞
 
We had a 5 to 6 foot deep 5x5 foot
In ground pump house at the cabin. During summer we left the pump primed and all you had to do was turn on the switch to have water inside. But at the end of summer we drained the pump and lines. Of course this meant come deer season we had to put everything back together and prime the pump if we wanted running water.

Well one Thanksgiving week Dad, Don and I went up. After taking stuff in we pulled off the pumphouse roof to prime the pump. Inside was a surprise.

A red squirrel had taken up residence and the entire pump house was filled right to the brim with acorns. We had to shovel them out . Worst thing was it took two years to get rid of the bugger. After that every single time we went up we had to shovel out the pump house from acorns and pinecone.
 
Many years ago when a young lad and full of pizz and vinegar, there wasn't many challenges I wouldn't try. Well, we had seen this little yearling buck several times walking the fence line right along a line of dog fennels. Somebody made the comment he was walking close enough to that fence that if one of us hid in the fennels we could just reach out and touch him before he even realized we were there. So yeh, I took on the challenge.
Next morning before daylight I got all hunkered down in the fennels waiting for that little yearling to come along, and just after daylight here he came just like clockwork. Well, as he passed by me within about 3 feet, I jumped up and reached out for him but he was a slight bit quicker and jumped out of my reach. One of my buddies who had been watching from a fair distance hollared out, well get after him! Another challenge ... So, I did.
I chased that damned deer for a good 100 yards or so and just as I was about close enough to reach out and touch him, he sort'a stumbled and lost a step. As I reached out and he stumbled, I actually jabbed my pointer finger right up his butt hole. Well, he stepped it up a pace and so did I, and as we made it another few feet I realized I could actually catch that deer with my bare hands if I could just gain a step on him so that I could get a crook in my finger.

I swear it's true! ;);):)
 
My Dad was one of 11 brothers and sisters. Used to go back to the home town every summer to visit the clan and fish for walleye, plus once I got to age 12, Dad would pull me out of school and we'd go up to hunt pheasants. Mostly the Aunts and Uncle's were very successful and from the outside looking in -pillars of the community, as they say.

One of the Uncles, who I'll refer to as Hollis, was shall we say, eccentric. He was a English PhD and a school principal, who, during the summer months, worked at a cement culvert casting facility, knocking molds off of the culvert with a sledgehammer. I once saw him gather three oak kitchen chairs by putting one leg from each together and lift them straight out in front of him with a single hand.

After walking a cornfield, getting back to the cars Hollis took a rooster I'd knocked down (my first hunting kill) and clipped its claw off. He swirled the claw in the bird's blood and traced the bloody claw across my cheek, advising I was now 'blooded' as a hunter. I'd never heard of such a thing and was more or less appalled. I looked to my Dad who merely winked and solemnly nodded. On a hunt a few years later our hunting group was about to enter another cornfield when saw an old farm truck tearing up the dirt road honking at us. It skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust with the drivers window closest to Hollis. In the bed of the truck was a lab mix raising hell barking and growling.

The sweaty, unshaven driver proceeded to tell us that we couldn't hunt his field which was on the other side of the road from the field we'd been about to enter. The man said if we got on his land he'd have the game warden and sheriff out on our ass and then said he was sick of out-of-state hunters killing birds (he'd seen the plate on Dad's car) Uncle Hollis said we're going to hunt this field, pointing to the field (which we'd gotten permission to do.) The guy just couldn't slow his roll and between his bitching and the dogs barking Unc started getting perturbed. He told the farmer that was a fine lookin' dog and needed just one thing to make him better.

The guy stopped talking and asked, "What's that?" Unc said, "A load of 6's to the face." The guy gave some kind of "Why you!" statement and made like he was going to get out of the truck. Hollis grabbed him by the front of his overalls and began shaking him back and forth, with the guys head randomly bouncing off the roof of the truck. He finally stopped and said you just run along and get your dog some medicine. We walked the field, taking multiple birds and never heard anything about the guy in the pickup.

Another time out casting at one of the local lakes, Hollis hooked in to a sizeable Northern Pike. We had no net with us and Dad asked "How're you going to get him out?" Unc grinned at him and reeled the fish in toward the shore then palmed a 1955 Browning .380 from his pants pocket and said, "Like this" and put a hole in the top of the fish's head.

In his later years, Hollis lost his administrator job after an incident with a farm-boy football player who was mouthing off to his teacher. He had picked the teen, while sitting in one of the one piece desk/chairs and carrying him and the desk to the front door and chucking him outside. In later years he'd been a hard drinker and was known to sashay around town in a white toga, wearing cowboy boots and hat, with a Smith model 28 slung around his hips. I have some other great stories about him, suitable only for fireside conversations while sharing libations.
 
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