All good man. It honestly freaked me out. Never ever heard a deer scream like that and I've taken a bunch over the years. It also jumped clean off a ravine which I've never seen. Weird stuff for sureOk. Beings others can offer their opinions I'll offer mine. I've followed along since the beginning of this thread and have read each and every post. I wish those pictures of that doe ( and the story actually ) weren't on here. I see little reference where this fits this thread.
Sorry TonySkyline. Just being honest. Sometimes although we all strive for cleans kills, things get messy. I've been there and get it. I just feel we do not need to fuel the fire for others to use against us.
Also, and I mean this sincerely. Congrats on the doe.
Agreed. At 29 I was a killer in the woods, at 59 not so much. Very selective, and usually kill nothing by choice. When I do really limit my shots to easy effective range and only on mature animals. Except for birds, I kill all grouse, woodcock, and pheasants at will! My bird dog demands it~!With the doe story, I get it....but not a story I needed to hear or see. As far as sort of a "creepy" component, a similar situation happened to a guy I hunt with almost 30yrs ago, he cant hardly discuss it, like a level of PTSD. I've guided lots of bear hunters and heard that death moan too many times to be slapping high 5s etc anymore so I pretty much quit bear hunting. I think as a hunter gets older your brain processes differently and those situations end up being harder to stomach. I know other hunters who lost the urge to hunt over one experience like that. It would be interesting to know the effects that killing critters has on the human brain, clean kills are likely no big deal, but the questionable ones prob cross some wires along the way. Like seeing a deceased person in a nicely laid out casket with flowers around vs laying in a ditch looking up at you with crooked eyeballs.
Probably right in my neck of the woods...Not hunting, but it still unbelievable to me. 40+ years later..
I used to be a competitive road cyclist in high school, I trained a lot. Almost always by myself and almost always on what were then very rural roads. People then were a lot less accommodating of cyclists, but I was fast and strong and full of myself. I rode on "sew-ups", aka "tubular" tires that were glued on the rim. Ultralight, very high pressure and very easy to flat. I never gave quarter on the road, if there was a shoulder, I didn't ride it because of glass and the potential to flat. I'd ride the painted line on the side of the road, but not the shoulder.
One hot summer weekend afternoon, I was riding fast on the far right of a two-lane straight country rode with loose, deep, pea gravel shoulder. I was very far "south county" in a backwater area below Annapolis and zero cars were passing me either way. Totally focused on my high level of exertion, there was no noise, no wind, no traffic... all of a sudden the hair on the back my neck stood up, I sensed extreme/urgent danger and instantly/sharply veered my bike into the loose gravel shoulder (never in a million years would I do this). I was going so fast that I barely kept the bike up. In the very moment my bike left the pavement, a huge tandem axle dump truck that had feathered his throttle to run silent blew past me with no room, his wheels on that painted line.
I will never know why I did what I did, I never heard the truck. I didn't event take a split second to figure out what I "feeling". I just instantly reacted. Perhaps I felt the air pressure from the air the truck was pushing since I was so used to feeling it.
My aunt, now deceased, was a nun and my dad's twin brother, a cloistered monk. I always felt that somehow they looked out for me. Anyhow, my innate sense, my aunt, uncle or God had my back that day.
That dude would have killed me, for sure.
Most likely a snake moving through dried grass or brush. I was walking through an old cattle pasture following a river that I was fishing with each step I would hear what sounded like a heavy zipper getting unzipped. Finally caught sight of some movement as I heard the unzipping and it was a good size snake moving through dry grass.Years ago I was elk hunting with my buddy in the jungle here in North Idaho. Once morning we were going after some bugles, I was coming in from the top and he from the bottom. I got into a really thick section and was taking a breather, when I heard the distinct sound of a zipper on a pack that sounded like it was right on the other side of some thicket I was in maybe 20 yds away. I called out his name and heard it again but couldn't see anything. I headed that direction and kept hearing noises but never found him or what ever was making the noise. Turns out he wasn't even close to that section of the spot we were hunting so I have no idea who made that noise.
Shit I can't say how many times the girlfriend and I have been alone by the fire and thought we heard steps in the darkness; after hearing this story I'm going to be way more vigilant with the campfire protectionThis one happened to a friend of mine.
My buddy is not a hunter but spent allot of time in the Los Padres forest looking for rock art sites. Which is probably equal to, if not more difficult than hunting deer in these parts.
He's about 10 years older than myself and first told me this story when I was barely out of highschool. The story struck me as a young man and I never forgot it.
One Friday, he and a buddy left from work into the local backcountry for the weekend.
They were going to camp out of the truck that evening and in the morning head out in search of another cave painting that had been eluding him.
Before sunset they pulled into a primitive campground. There was a group of 4 young dudes already at the campground. So my friends drove by, giving a nod of acknowledgement. Theres only a handful of campsites, so they pick the furthest from the other group maybe 100yds away)
While setting up camp and getting a fire going they can hear the other dudes shooting a breakbarrel pellet rifle and laughing/goofing off pretty obnoxiously. No one else shows up to the campground that night.
After dark my buddies were sitting silently around the fire and smoking a little reefer...
Pretty late into the night they were still up with the fire and could hear the other group, then suddenly the other group gets real quiet in the midst of their late night assgrab session.
The two of them don't say a word to each other but listen intently. After a short while they can hear something sneaking through the brush between the campsites.
My friend had no protection on himself besides a surefire light. The other friend only had a large stick that he'd been using to manage the fire. Without a word they slowly backed away from the light of the flame, with a little dispersion between themselves, and waited for what was coming.
After a few minutes they can tell its someone trying to be sneaky. Finally the source of the sound slowly breaks into the light of the fire. A young man carrying a pellet rifle at the ready and following behind him, his three buddies. They all appear very tense and not at all jovial like they'd been at their own site. As they come forward into my friends campsite he waits till they're adjacent to his companion holding the "big stick" in the shadows, then he blasts them with the surefire, holding the light directly on their faces. Everyone freezes, not a peep from anyone. The intruders are totally blinded by the light, but my friend can see his buddy beside them with the stick raised over his shoulder like he's about to hit a Fxxxing grand slam!
They standoff in silence for what probably felt like an eternity, until one of the guys in the back of the line chokes out- "hh-hhey we don't want any problem" No response and the light stays fixed on them... "we smelt your smoke and thought you might share some." Still nothing but a light to look at. Finally from the same dude- "ok we'll leave then." And the three in the rear start to back out, but the good ole point man stands firm, looking tough.
One of his compadres says "c'mon homey lets bounce, its not worth it." After a few more seconds he relents and they all slink back into the dark.
Needless to say, after the gang retreated, my friends immediately packed their shit and left the area.
While I realize being unarmed and smoking reefer when your in the backcountry may not be the wisest choice. I still think they handled the situation pretty nicely and used what they had to their maximum advantage, despite being outgunned in every way.
My friend thinks those boys thought he might be asleep since him and his friend hadn't made any noise in hours... Regardless those four dudes did not have good intentions.