A Moose with a wiper blade !!!!
- Thread starter sealhunter
- Start date
GMC Trucker
Regular
- Location
- Airdrie, AB
One more.
Good sized badger on the highway just north of Yorkton, Sask with a 1984 Trans Am. Couldn't quite avoid it, and got its head with the passenger side front tire. No damage at all to the car. Badger dead. Claws as long as my pinky finger.
Good sized badger on the highway just north of Yorkton, Sask with a 1984 Trans Am. Couldn't quite avoid it, and got its head with the passenger side front tire. No damage at all to the car. Badger dead. Claws as long as my pinky finger.
- Location
- Ottawa, Ontario
killed two racoons with a hockey stick... they got into my sisters barn so my brother in law and i took care of them lol
FortHunter
CGN Regular
- Location
- Nowhere relevant
my dad got a crow with a lacrosse ball
i got a rabbit with a rock barbecued it at work the next day
i got a rabbit with a rock barbecued it at work the next day
Great_White_hunter
Member
- Location
- Edmonton Alberta
just got a spear gun for spearfishign northern sask in early summer, but 2 weeks before w/ it in my truck go gopher shooting with best friend in southern alberta, long story short, spearfishing trident (for perch) claimed 2 gophers lol
steve-o1979
Regular
- Location
- Nova Scotia
Done that twice in one day last fall....taking carrots to my deer hunting tree...walked past some of our traps... had 2 coyotes and no gun... walked back to the truck and got the tire iron. Got a beaver with an oar the other day too...
original post: h ttp://www.hoodswoods.net/IVB/index.php?showtopic=35003
Not mine, but funny:
It was back in the 70's, during one of the Great Droughts to hit California, I was busily engaged in trekking students from UCLA through the Sierra Nevada mountain range in search of survival skills. These treks lasted anywhere from 9 days to two weeks and once a year we did a 3 week program. During one such program late in the year we discovered that previously reliable but small, water sources had dried up. This made for some rough trekking. Hike, dig in a stream bed, fill canteens and move on. Our goal was "Strawberry Meadows" on the South Fork of the Kern. The Kern was running, I knew as I'd flown over it a week earlier and seen the water.
Now in those days water purification was limited to chemicals, Iodine, and boiling. We had no filtration or UV stuff so the chances for drinking contaminated water increased exponentially with the low water levels, fire proscriptions and concentrated wildlife. With that in mind...
It was late when we got into camp. The Kern was 5 feet from my shelter. The night was warm and I had an unusual rumbling in my gut. I'd ignored it all day in hopes that dehydration would quiet the noise and snake-like twisting going on down there but once I rehydrated from that wonderful surplus of cold water, things changed... dramatically. I tried to fight it and laid down to sleep on my pine needle mat. It was a warm night and I was beat.
I awoke to a bright full moon shining down. That and the certain knowledge that I was about to foul myself. Hurriedly I grabbed my six foot long, steel tipped Naginata walking stick and rushed up the hillside wearing only my shorts. I was aiming to get as far from my site as possible before I let this steaming monster loose. I knew it was a monster as it represented a collection of dirt dry butt bunnies that I'd built up over the previous three days and was more than likely going to be energized by a contaminated colon engine of e-coli or some other Latin sounding ass thrasher.
I'd made it maybe 50 feet up the hill and onto a sandy flat area when I spied the ideal dump site. It was formed by a huge boulder perhaps 10 feet on a side with one face absolutely vertical. That face had another, smaller, coffin shaped rock perhaps two feet high and six feet long, co-located about two feet from the big face. In between was a sandy area. I could see it in my minds eye as I approached... back to the big wall, toes against the small wall, ejection port facing down ...and a view no less! extending outward 30 feet from the small rock was a nice, flat sandy area. Just beyond that the hillside dropped down revealing a gorgeous moon lit vista of mountains, river and meadow.
I dropped trou, 2.1 microseconds after clearing my knees the pants sent a signal to my anus ... permission to launch had been given. I wasn't quite ready as I was still lowering into the proper stance. None-the-less the first titanium tipped crap lance shot into the earth. That was followed by a series of shotgun blasts and a general hosing. Relieved, but a bit tarnished by the splash back, I managed to settle down into the customary posture and waited for the event to continue. I knew it was going to take some time. I set my stick down against the smaller rock, steel tip facing outward and up and fired off another round. This one included some vocals to accompany the symphony I was playing with my butt organ.
Five minutes into the experience I was beginning to think that things were coming to an end when a doe mule deer walked down into the sandy area... Not just into the area but right where I was performing my solo. So close in fact that her left flank was inches from the smaller rock. She didn't see me. I'm sure the smell was attracting her. She turned to face the valley below me... sensing the air. I remember thinking that she must be confused. The air was coming down the canyon, from behind the large boulder, as it does at night. it was likely creating an eddy around my location so she was not sure where the odor was coming from. I am confident it covered my body odor, not an insignificant accomplishment.
I was a bit concerned at this point as another urge to purge was attempting to send more frantic signals to my already enabled launching systems. I knew that if another round hit the ground, she'd reflexively kick straight back and... unprotected as I was in the top half of my body, namely head, neck and chest, the kick could kill me. Being found dead, killed by a deer, in my own #### is not an honorable way to go. Leastwise it is not on the list I've constructed as a final fantasy. I grabbed my walking stick.
The plan was to poke the deer in the ass. The normal reaction would be to pull the ass away from the poke, shift the weight to the front feet, pull in the rear feet and leap away. Good plan. Just as the muscle in my gut gave the firing command to my stern gun, my right hand now gripping the shaft of the stick down near the earth, got the signal to fire the poke. Both commands reported to my brain which momentarily went into some sort of sensory exchange event. The result... the stick went forward with all the energy I had in my arms, slightly to the left of the target. My load made a humming sound and roared to freedom.
At that instant in time both the deer and I had something going on with our ass holes. I was emptying mine and filling hers. I ran two feet of crap out of mine as I ran two feet of Japanese hardwood into hers. The results were spectacular. The deer kicked straight out, no doubt held up by my own spastic muscles. The rear hooves hit the stone with the violence of a Viking smashing a Roman shield. I had no choice... I leaped up onto the deer, above the thrashing Hooves. Then I Pressed down with the stick to keep the hooves on the earth, simultaneously shoving farther in for a better purchase. At this point in the encounter I was wondering if any of the students had heard the noise as there was a fair bit.
The thought of being seen, Pants down and butt naked, #### covering my feet a stick up a deers ass and me astride it... beggared the imagination. I would never be able to explain it. Fortunately the experience only lasted a short while. I have no idea what the real time was as it seemed like forever but later when I looked at the area in the light of day It could only have been a few minutes.
When she finally dropped I was relieved. In many ways. The somewhat violent massaging her spine gave my abdomen was enough to purge anything up to the last moments of ingestion much like one might extrude the last bits of toothpaste from a tube... I was clean inside. Outside I looked like a turd with arms, swollen pimples of deer #### added to my grotesque appearance. I looked at the now dead deer, the mess on the rocks, the sand and myself.... kicked sand over what I could, withdrew my stick and went down to wash up.
In the morning I went up the mountain "Found" the deer and declared... "it died of hypothermia... let's eat it". The students were a little skeptical but since I was offering food....
Ron
Not mine, but funny:
It was back in the 70's, during one of the Great Droughts to hit California, I was busily engaged in trekking students from UCLA through the Sierra Nevada mountain range in search of survival skills. These treks lasted anywhere from 9 days to two weeks and once a year we did a 3 week program. During one such program late in the year we discovered that previously reliable but small, water sources had dried up. This made for some rough trekking. Hike, dig in a stream bed, fill canteens and move on. Our goal was "Strawberry Meadows" on the South Fork of the Kern. The Kern was running, I knew as I'd flown over it a week earlier and seen the water.
Now in those days water purification was limited to chemicals, Iodine, and boiling. We had no filtration or UV stuff so the chances for drinking contaminated water increased exponentially with the low water levels, fire proscriptions and concentrated wildlife. With that in mind...
It was late when we got into camp. The Kern was 5 feet from my shelter. The night was warm and I had an unusual rumbling in my gut. I'd ignored it all day in hopes that dehydration would quiet the noise and snake-like twisting going on down there but once I rehydrated from that wonderful surplus of cold water, things changed... dramatically. I tried to fight it and laid down to sleep on my pine needle mat. It was a warm night and I was beat.
I awoke to a bright full moon shining down. That and the certain knowledge that I was about to foul myself. Hurriedly I grabbed my six foot long, steel tipped Naginata walking stick and rushed up the hillside wearing only my shorts. I was aiming to get as far from my site as possible before I let this steaming monster loose. I knew it was a monster as it represented a collection of dirt dry butt bunnies that I'd built up over the previous three days and was more than likely going to be energized by a contaminated colon engine of e-coli or some other Latin sounding ass thrasher.
I'd made it maybe 50 feet up the hill and onto a sandy flat area when I spied the ideal dump site. It was formed by a huge boulder perhaps 10 feet on a side with one face absolutely vertical. That face had another, smaller, coffin shaped rock perhaps two feet high and six feet long, co-located about two feet from the big face. In between was a sandy area. I could see it in my minds eye as I approached... back to the big wall, toes against the small wall, ejection port facing down ...and a view no less! extending outward 30 feet from the small rock was a nice, flat sandy area. Just beyond that the hillside dropped down revealing a gorgeous moon lit vista of mountains, river and meadow.
I dropped trou, 2.1 microseconds after clearing my knees the pants sent a signal to my anus ... permission to launch had been given. I wasn't quite ready as I was still lowering into the proper stance. None-the-less the first titanium tipped crap lance shot into the earth. That was followed by a series of shotgun blasts and a general hosing. Relieved, but a bit tarnished by the splash back, I managed to settle down into the customary posture and waited for the event to continue. I knew it was going to take some time. I set my stick down against the smaller rock, steel tip facing outward and up and fired off another round. This one included some vocals to accompany the symphony I was playing with my butt organ.
Five minutes into the experience I was beginning to think that things were coming to an end when a doe mule deer walked down into the sandy area... Not just into the area but right where I was performing my solo. So close in fact that her left flank was inches from the smaller rock. She didn't see me. I'm sure the smell was attracting her. She turned to face the valley below me... sensing the air. I remember thinking that she must be confused. The air was coming down the canyon, from behind the large boulder, as it does at night. it was likely creating an eddy around my location so she was not sure where the odor was coming from. I am confident it covered my body odor, not an insignificant accomplishment.
I was a bit concerned at this point as another urge to purge was attempting to send more frantic signals to my already enabled launching systems. I knew that if another round hit the ground, she'd reflexively kick straight back and... unprotected as I was in the top half of my body, namely head, neck and chest, the kick could kill me. Being found dead, killed by a deer, in my own #### is not an honorable way to go. Leastwise it is not on the list I've constructed as a final fantasy. I grabbed my walking stick.
The plan was to poke the deer in the ass. The normal reaction would be to pull the ass away from the poke, shift the weight to the front feet, pull in the rear feet and leap away. Good plan. Just as the muscle in my gut gave the firing command to my stern gun, my right hand now gripping the shaft of the stick down near the earth, got the signal to fire the poke. Both commands reported to my brain which momentarily went into some sort of sensory exchange event. The result... the stick went forward with all the energy I had in my arms, slightly to the left of the target. My load made a humming sound and roared to freedom.
At that instant in time both the deer and I had something going on with our ass holes. I was emptying mine and filling hers. I ran two feet of crap out of mine as I ran two feet of Japanese hardwood into hers. The results were spectacular. The deer kicked straight out, no doubt held up by my own spastic muscles. The rear hooves hit the stone with the violence of a Viking smashing a Roman shield. I had no choice... I leaped up onto the deer, above the thrashing Hooves. Then I Pressed down with the stick to keep the hooves on the earth, simultaneously shoving farther in for a better purchase. At this point in the encounter I was wondering if any of the students had heard the noise as there was a fair bit.
The thought of being seen, Pants down and butt naked, #### covering my feet a stick up a deers ass and me astride it... beggared the imagination. I would never be able to explain it. Fortunately the experience only lasted a short while. I have no idea what the real time was as it seemed like forever but later when I looked at the area in the light of day It could only have been a few minutes.
When she finally dropped I was relieved. In many ways. The somewhat violent massaging her spine gave my abdomen was enough to purge anything up to the last moments of ingestion much like one might extrude the last bits of toothpaste from a tube... I was clean inside. Outside I looked like a turd with arms, swollen pimples of deer #### added to my grotesque appearance. I looked at the now dead deer, the mess on the rocks, the sand and myself.... kicked sand over what I could, withdrew my stick and went down to wash up.
In the morning I went up the mountain "Found" the deer and declared... "it died of hypothermia... let's eat it". The students were a little skeptical but since I was offering food....
Ron
I know a guy who killed a wolverine with his boot laces ... made a lasso(sp) with his boot laces, hung it over the hole ... head popped out, pulled him out and stepped on him and choked him out ... 
Otokiak
Rankin Inlet, NU
CANADA
Otokiak
Rankin Inlet, NU
CANADA
Rabbit with a stick. Mouse with a .22 short. Had a shrew in the house and it weighed nothing. Touchiest mouse trap wouldn't trigger on him. I mean it took several tries to set this bugger without it prematurely going off before i got it on the floor. The little guy would sit on the trigger and eat the bait. Should have seen dad's expression. I mentioned that we should shoot him. To my amazement, dad agreed. Didn't have to tell me twice. Got out the .22 and a .22 short and waited for him to show. Sure enough, out he pops. I'm guessing a hollowpoint was overkill but dad cleaned it up anyway. Not often you get permission to shoot IN the house.
Dad is the only guy I know that shot a fish. He was a teenager out hunting in back of the farm and he spotted a large jack in a shallow stream. With nothing handy to net or spear it he decided to shoot it. Aimed for the head but the fish must have caught a movement or something and lunged ahead. He maintained that he shot the head and the fish moved so fast the 30-30 caught him in mid back. I actually saw the photo his dad took. Dad's gone now and I'm hoping to find that picture so I can amuse his grandkids with tales of him.
I always maintain that I am a better hunter than he was but aspire to be half the man he was.
Dad is the only guy I know that shot a fish. He was a teenager out hunting in back of the farm and he spotted a large jack in a shallow stream. With nothing handy to net or spear it he decided to shoot it. Aimed for the head but the fish must have caught a movement or something and lunged ahead. He maintained that he shot the head and the fish moved so fast the 30-30 caught him in mid back. I actually saw the photo his dad took. Dad's gone now and I'm hoping to find that picture so I can amuse his grandkids with tales of him.
I always maintain that I am a better hunter than he was but aspire to be half the man he was.
I had a buddy go out for an evening hunting trip for Moose. He drove up on two large bull moose fighting on a farmers field and instead of shooting one he decidd to watch for awhile. Out from the trees comes a coyote and spooks them. Well one moose runs into the trees and the other runs towards him(but not right at him). The moose comes to the road where there is a ditch. Goes down into the ditch stumbles, falls catches its antlers on the far side of the ditch and snaps its neck. Pretty unconventional i guess..
my uncle always told me when he was young that he snuck up on a whitetail buck while it was drinking water and he booted it square in the balls and it choked to death on the water. I think it was more a joke then anything but that still sticks in my mind. I believed him at the time LOL
- Location
- Grande Prairie, Alberta
my buddy beat a possum to death with a collapsible police baton.
smoked a deer with the truck once and had to finish it off with my handy tiger torch club
as
also found a beaver on the road and thought it as dead in the mornin it was crawling around my truck with a broken back so i took it to the vet and he OD it then i got a permit to get it stuffed
as
also found a beaver on the road and thought it as dead in the mornin it was crawling around my truck with a broken back so i took it to the vet and he OD it then i got a permit to get it stuffed
