How's about something to lighten up a bit and put the haha back in everyone,... after all it's Christmas. Why not share some of our funny hunting stories, you know the kind where no one gets shot, scoped, hurt, flamed, banned or suspended. I have so many, I could write a book, but I'll start with a recent one:
As you may have gathered by now, my favourite mode of transport are horses. My good friend (hunting pardner' and neighbour also) and I where preparing for an elk hunt. The day prior to departure, he announces that a buddy of his who BTW is or was a hunter training instructor is going to come along. This fellow doesn't own horses, so one will be provided. We're off on a fairly cold and snowy morning, about a couple of feet of snow or so in the foothills. After a two and a half hour ride, the greenhorn is becoming separated from the family jewels and decides to disembark and walk. We arrive at the ranch's back cabin where we will built a fire in the stove, make lunch and a hot pot of coffee. Having walked this far in snow which progressively gets deeper as you travel west, the greenhorn was rather wet. Being that he didn't take to the saddle so well, he wanted to impress us with the fire lighting and survival abilities, seeing that he's a huntin' instructor and all. He pulled out these gadgets that he claims to use in his survival class demonstrations, flints, strickers, some kinda of stone that scrapes into a powder and makes nice sparkles, etc. After about five or ten minutes of demonstrating how all of these contraptions failed miserably to light the frigin paper that lay patiently in the belly stove, I'd had just about enough ... I mean, I need a hot coffee. I reached into my saddle bags, pulled out my ziploc bag with the 7-Eleven matches (that I got for free) and proceeded much to his embarassment to light the GD fire. Of course, there was some severe ball bustin' going on for much of the afternoon. Travelling back towards main camp, we took the horses through a very narrow game trail inside some heavy timber. Now, John Wayne (the greenhorn) had been worned to not leave the rifle sling dangling so low outta the gun scabbard, for good reasons. The sling caught onto some branches and rifle became promptly ejected from said scabbard in a good two feet of snow. Well, it was God D...ed horse this, God D...ed horse that, everything except ... gee, somebody warned me about this. Anyhow, John Wayne gets off his horse, picks up his rifle which by now you can imagine if filled with snow. He pulls the bolt out of it, sticks the muzzle in his mouth and blows the snow out through the receiver end. That my friends, was a Kodak moment, especially from a hunter training dude, and I didn't have my camera. At the end of day one, this guy was so sore that I don't know if he'll even have children, he did say that it was the last time. Thank-you Lord.
I have lots more stories, but your turn now.
As you may have gathered by now, my favourite mode of transport are horses. My good friend (hunting pardner' and neighbour also) and I where preparing for an elk hunt. The day prior to departure, he announces that a buddy of his who BTW is or was a hunter training instructor is going to come along. This fellow doesn't own horses, so one will be provided. We're off on a fairly cold and snowy morning, about a couple of feet of snow or so in the foothills. After a two and a half hour ride, the greenhorn is becoming separated from the family jewels and decides to disembark and walk. We arrive at the ranch's back cabin where we will built a fire in the stove, make lunch and a hot pot of coffee. Having walked this far in snow which progressively gets deeper as you travel west, the greenhorn was rather wet. Being that he didn't take to the saddle so well, he wanted to impress us with the fire lighting and survival abilities, seeing that he's a huntin' instructor and all. He pulled out these gadgets that he claims to use in his survival class demonstrations, flints, strickers, some kinda of stone that scrapes into a powder and makes nice sparkles, etc. After about five or ten minutes of demonstrating how all of these contraptions failed miserably to light the frigin paper that lay patiently in the belly stove, I'd had just about enough ... I mean, I need a hot coffee. I reached into my saddle bags, pulled out my ziploc bag with the 7-Eleven matches (that I got for free) and proceeded much to his embarassment to light the GD fire. Of course, there was some severe ball bustin' going on for much of the afternoon. Travelling back towards main camp, we took the horses through a very narrow game trail inside some heavy timber. Now, John Wayne (the greenhorn) had been worned to not leave the rifle sling dangling so low outta the gun scabbard, for good reasons. The sling caught onto some branches and rifle became promptly ejected from said scabbard in a good two feet of snow. Well, it was God D...ed horse this, God D...ed horse that, everything except ... gee, somebody warned me about this. Anyhow, John Wayne gets off his horse, picks up his rifle which by now you can imagine if filled with snow. He pulls the bolt out of it, sticks the muzzle in his mouth and blows the snow out through the receiver end. That my friends, was a Kodak moment, especially from a hunter training dude, and I didn't have my camera. At the end of day one, this guy was so sore that I don't know if he'll even have children, he did say that it was the last time. Thank-you Lord.
I have lots more stories, but your turn now.
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I was laughing so hard and his face was beet red from anger and embarassment. I stopped laughing long enough to load the 06 and take a nice deer, I then handed the rifle to "Bob" and he took another with the 06 right after mine went down.He was not amused for the whole trip, but after a couple of double Crown Royal's he started laughing and couldn't stop. I hunt with "Bob" once in a while and he always reminds me that he has his ammo belt on and at least two cartridges in hand.I guess the moral of the story is that it's better to have an 06 with bullets than a magnum with none.
