Worst hunting experience?

Last season I scouted a place for deer for about 2 weeks saw a few good trails but one stood out the best everyday I saw atleast 4 does and a few bucks so opening day I go and I never had a clean shot so I decide to take my sister for her first deer hunt with a rifle hopefully she can get to shoot so roughly around 9 am the first doe would cross sure enough it's around 915 I hear a truck getting closer and a of a sudden hear a gun shot some a**hole shot the deer out of his truck so I'm mad but whatever next deer would come around 10-11 another guy comes and shoots the second one of his truck
That was a terrible experience for my sister and myself never got to see a deer that day because two guys shot both of ours
 
sgt.rock said:
I have a doozy. My best friend, his first cousin, and me were bear hunting about 11 years ago. My friend is a total geek for military rifles (LEE Enfields, Mausers, etc) and always uses one for his hunting. He happened to pick his mauser (which has a bit of a hair trigger from a bubba trigger job) for the days hunt.
We were walking a really big cutline when "the cousin" spotted a pretty big blackie about 500 yds up near the trees. We dropped down, and "low-stalked" the bear for about 10 minutes. We were about 200 yards when the bear just walked into the trees. My friend chambered a round and we sped up. When we got to the spot the bear had entered the trees, we slowly followed.
My friend and his cousin were both armed while I was just "along" for something to do. My friend was on the right and his cousin on the left, while I trailed behind forming a "triangle" . The mauser's trigger caught some branches and discharged a 200gr bullet at point blank into his Friends HIP. Talk about blood and screaming. His pelvic bone was shattered, and the bullet exited the offside hip , close to the front of his abdomen. Being a complete Mcguyver geek , I had a tarp in my bag and a pack of thumbtacks, and my ripped up sweatshirt as a pressure bandage. We made a makeshift stretcher out of 2 trees and used to tacks to keep the tarp attached to the sticks to form the stretcher. He had to keep his own pressure on the wounds because we had to lift the ends. He passed out 5 or 6 times on the way out to the truck, and each time was a panic as we thought he died each time. Needless to say, all his Milsurps are retired as hunting rifles.
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This is about the worst scenario I could think of. I don`t want to know what your friend does to his milsurp rifles. I have fired plenty of Mausers and they are probably one of the safest rifles around if used correctly. The trigger might not be super heavy but it is certainly no hair trigger.
 
A friend once was out rabbit hunting in the snow and one of the guys in the back of the row shot at the snow in the trees overhead of the guys upfront . He thought it was a big joke to cover them in snow they didn't see things his way and never hunted with him again.
 
One November evening about 7 yrs ago I was hunting a piece of bush NW of Rapid City, MB. I moved into the bush from the east side and sat behind some brush on the side of a large mound of dirt beside a dugout watching a clearing to the west. This bush was used as a pasture and I had permission to hunt it when the cattle were removed and the gates were left open. Seeing one of the gates open when I arrived I assumed that the cattle were out and I was good to go.

It was snowing lightly with the wind towards me. I had one forkhorn buck feed to about 25 yds of me and then move off. As I sat I heard sort of a groaning sound behind me and first assumed that it was the ice shifting on a nearby slough. The sound kept getting louder and more regular, almost like a raspy breathing noise, so I took a look around and there was a humungous Black Angus bull about 25 yds downwind of me. We made eye contact and he let out a bellow and headed straight towards me. A number of unpleasant scenarios ran thru my head, the most likely being a need to convert someone's prize bull into 1200 lbs of hamburger and me losing a big chunk of change as a result of popping him, to say nothing of losing my hunting privileges in a very nice spot. The fence was about 30 yds away, so I decided to go for it instead. I grabbed my rifle and pack and cleared the fence about 937 times quicker than when I crossed it going in. Ferdinand was hot on my heels and pulled up short as I crossed the wire.

After checking my drawers for lumps I moved west along the fence and took another stand looking back into the bush. I saw another basket rack buck towards dark followed by the biggest feral, Garfield colored, cat I've ever seen. Thus ended my very own personal "running of the bulls". I thought I was still pretty agile for a guy a bit short of 60. I saw the farmer later that week and asked him WTF about that bull in the pasture with the gate open. He just answered something about bulls being bulls and that he had missed him when the drove out the other cattle and was planning to round him up a bit later.
 
Second worse hunting story was the time that I narrowly avoided coming home from a hunting trip with a second wife. 25 yrs ago I was hunting geese and ducks along the Euphrates River near Raqqah, Syria. I was hunting with 2 Irishmen and an Austrian and staying in a tourist hotel in Raqqah; the worst hotel I've ever stayed in with a burnt out kitchen, cold water pumped directly from the river, no bedding, heating compo rations on a gas stove in the room, etc.

We were hunting in the spring and were after birds migrating north along the flyway from Africa to Russia. There were no seasons, bag limits, hunting regulations, or other hunters so the idea was just to pass shoot the birds in the evening when they came to roost on the river or to jump shoot them during the day on their feeding grounds. The main attraction was a grey goose, but there were also a lot of ducks to be had, especially mallards.

One evening we were set up along the Euphrates and had left our jeep parked in a tilled field along a treeline. We shot some geese and on returning to the vehicle, learned that the land belonged to the local village muktar whose son met us and invited us back to his house for tea. We got comfortably ensconced in his house and got to talking about a variety of topics in a halting mixture of Arabic, English and German. At some point the topic of money came up and the muktar asked what kind of currency we all used. The Austrian had shillings, the Irish had punts, and I had *** DOLLARS***. The old muktar's eyeballs immediately got real big, kind of like those guys on "Canadian Pickers" when they are about to make a big score, and I immediately became the preferred guest. The muktar's next eligible unmarried daughter, about age 17 or so, who was acting as the hostess, started schlepping the tea and sweets to me bigtime. After some commentary from my "friends" as to the beauty and grace of this young woman, the muktar allowed that she could be mine to take away as my new bride for $300. There was a lot of careful backpeddling done about Canadian marriage laws and customs, all the while being careful not to give offense about the unworthiness of the girl as a potential bride. We eventually got out the door on cordial terms less a few geese and a Buck folding knife, but with my wallet and virtue intact.

When I got back to Damascus wife #1 asked if I had brought anything back. I replied that there were some geese and ducks, but that, after considerable soul searching, I had passed on bringing back a live-in housekeeper and the challenges of raising another teenage daughter.
 
visbuurt said:
A friend once was out rabbit hunting in the snow and one of the guys in the back of the row shot at the snow in the trees overhead of the guys upfront . He thought it was a big joke to cover them in snow they didn't see things his way and never hunted with him again.
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I've never even heard of this sort of scenario before.. It's worse because he consciously meant to do it. It wasn't an accident.
He's lucky there were no Vets upfront, they could have had a flash back and he could have had a fire fight on his hands..
 
A few years back when I was in college I went deer hunting with three buddies who were first year deer hunters for the rifle season off of St. Joesph Island (WMU 45). The four of us, having very very little combined experience decided to keep things super simple and decided that pushing bush was going to be the easiest way to get lucky. We looked at the WMU map and we realized that there were a few islands that were accessible by boat and that were crown, and also a couple that had a small "land bridge" that connected the two islands that would make it very easy to push anything from one island to another. We started at the first pair of islands (Hog and Beef Island) and setup one person in the middle of the land bridge in a ground blind, and the three of us circled around and setup to push the one island. As soon as we landed the boat, another boat shows up and we let them know that we have someone setup on the other side of the island and we're just about to push it. They say thats fine, proceed to dump off three people and the other person goes and sets up on the other side of the island. We ask them if its possible to leave us this island and they can push the second one as we already have the four of us on this one. They say "F*** that, we've been hunting these islands for years we're not going anywhere" to which we reply "This is the first year hunting for three of our guys, so for safeties sake how about we split up", "We're wearing blaze orange, tell your friends not to shoot at us". And they proceed to push the bush. So we hop back into the boat to get the heck out of there and head to pick up our friend on the land bridge and head to a different set of islands before they do so we can all be alone. When we circle around and pick him up, we see they already have a deer down just 50 yards from where the friends ground blind was. According to my friend, the guy let off a couple of shots with his 30-06 at that deer while it was running, right over the side of our friends ground blind. Not cool at all, not safe at all, and also not a great first introduction to the world of hunting at all.

So we boat to the other island close by (Colville Island), and set up there. We all get a nice push going when AGAIN these jackasses come up and set up on the same island as us and start to push it "with us". We say screw that, get reorganized and head to our boat. The fools had the nerve to park their boat right beside ours... the temptation to tow their boat out a few kms was definitely there, but again we all realized that by ruining their hunt we would be just as pathetic as they were.

We did head back to the one island we started at and pushed the other side again, and we were successful in getting one doe off of it, but it really wasn't how we wanted to finish off our day there. Needless to say we didn't hunt there the rest of the week, so I guess they won in a way, but they can go F*** themselves for ruining a few peoples first experiences as well as putting one of our friends lives in danger.

The size of the islands? The two where we started were both 0.35 square kilometers. The second island where we went to where they thought it would be appropriate to join us... 0.05 square kilometers. All stories have two sides, their side of the story has no justification for their ignorance. And if they're reading this, I'm going to head back to all of those islands one day when I have time and bow hunt the crap out of it before your group has a chance to hunt it.
 
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I drove down to hunt with my oldest friend (no, not Why Not, oldest meaning knew him the longest) and his dad. When I got there my buddy's two friends were there. Sadly they were typical giant-4x4-white-trash guys that wanted to drive over everything and swill beer like neo-hillbillies. Shot a deer the first morning and didn't need much convincing from the rain to pack my crap and head home. That said, I was still hunting and not working so it could have been worse!

Maybe I need to try a hunt with my "oldest" friend. Story would end up significantly different, I suspect.
 
My worst hunting day was last fall. My first time in that area and he hadn't been back there for about 5 years. In that time beavers had moved in something fierce and once we got back in the brush (moose hunting) we started hitting some awful flooded trails. We were over three quarters of the way to where we had left the second truck and kept telling ourselves it would get better. At what turned out to be the last water to cross I slipped off a log (straddled it, my future kids felt that one). So I'm wet and cold, walk a mile to the truck go to throw my gear in and realize my gps and radio are gone. I had them in a pocket but wasn't keeping it zipped so I could grab them easier. New Gps is tied to me with paracord now.
 
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