Hunting Pranks

[fasteddie]

Have you ever done any hunting pranks ?

I was invited to a camp with a few guys many years ago . One of our friends was a Biker and always acted Macho . One of the regulars was showing us around the woods . We came across some deer scat . Bill had a box of Goobers candy (chocolate covered raisins) in his coat . He slipped a couple in his hand and reached down Looking like he had picked up some of the deer scat . He popped the Goobers in his mouth and said , it was a doe and she dropped these about 30 minutes . Our macho Biker buddy got the dry heaves and we all cracked up . He never lived it down .

 

[Shoots100]

The second day of the season I would always put a mannequin dressed in orange or camo in one of the new guy tree stands before afternoon stand.

You would hear them yelling at the mannequin before getting on the radio asking what to do.

One time I dropped off one of the new hunters at an occupied stand and as I was leaving he stopped me and said there's someone in the stand.

I told him to stand behind a tree with the radio in case it gets violent.

So I yelled at the "Hunter" to get the F out of the stand or I'm going to shoot you out of it and unloaded my handgun with blanks at the stand.

He almost crapped his pants.

I took him to another stand where he shot his first buck, a nice 8 point.

I miss those day's.

SJC

 

 

 

 

[wolc123]

Those stories remind me of one of my old neighbors, who’s been gone for quite a few years now.  He was real particular about his tree stands and he called anyone who he didn’t know “aborigins”.  
 

One opening day morning, he walked up to his stand in the dark, to find it occupied by one who he said “looked like MR T”, with lots of glistening gold jewelry hanging from his neck.  As he stood below and looked up, the trespasser asked “do you know what time it is ?”

My neighbor’s reply was: “Yeah, it’s time to get the hell out of my stand”.  
 

He was a good guy and I miss him and his hunting stories.  He traded me my first cultipacker (probably my second favorite foodplotting tool, right behind my 2 row John Deere 246 corn planter) for a case of genny cream ale.

Edited Saturday at 12:03 PM by wolc123

[wolc123]

I’ll repost a couple that Eddie erased by accident and that I was involved in, on a Quebec moose hunt, almost 40 years ago.  (4) of us drove up there in my buddy’s work van with my 14 ft boat on top.   The camp was on a small lake that was connected by rivers to several other lakes.  
 

It was owned by and Indian and consisted of 5 of 6 rough cabins.  We had one and another slightly older guy, from a little north of our home town and his father, had another.  There was nobody else at the camp, besides the owner.

 

That other guy told us that he was mostly after black bear, and he had brought up some bait that he would put in 55 gallon barrels, to try and attract them. He was an experienced bear hunter and he said that he would only shoot one, that was higher than the second ring on the barrels, when it was on four feet.  
 

Nobody seen any moose on that trip. Every day, his elderly father would walk around the camp, looking for sign.  My first prank involved making a set of tracks up from the lake between their cabin and ours.  I used the butt of my rifles stock to form the “moose tracks” in the sand.  
 

I can still hear that old guy’s voice saying “one walked right up between or cabins last night”.  He was very excited and sounded a lot like the old guy on the soundtrack at the start of the Alabama “mountain music” song, when he said “see them mountains over there”.  

That’s him on the left on the morning that he spied those tracks in the sand.  Had he looked real close, he might have seen the little Ruger emblems, in the center of the “hoof” prints.  
 

Each evening at camp (we stayed about a week), the owner would run his generator until it ran out of gas.  We’d sit around the table in the cabin drinking beer and playing cards and somebody would watch the dump a few hundred yards up a trail, for bear.  
 

When it was my turn to watch the dump, I heard some sticks breaking as the sun started to set.  I strained to see into the bush, and soon made out a dark form approaching.  As it moved towards one of the barrels, it looked to be taller than the top.  
 

Must be one heck of a big bear.  I centered my crosshairs on the middle of the middle and squeezed the trigger.  Walking over, I found a sprawled out porcupine next to a “barrel”, that was actually a Folgers coffee can.  
 

They had all heard my shot back at camp, and were all out on the porches watching as I walked back the trail, dragging the porky on the end of a rope.  Somebody yelled, “he must have shot a Cub”.  That’s when I came up with the coffee can story.  
 

Truthfully, porcupines were listed as “other species” which could be legally taken with the province hunting licenses which we had purchased.  I would never knowingly break the law or violate the cardinal shooting rule “always know your target and beyond”.  
 

It definitely made for a good hunting story though, and one thar has been retold many times thru the years.  This was our hunting crew on that trip.  We still get together now and then. Im the second from left:

 

I think the old Indian who owned that camp passed away a few years ago.  The brothers on each side of me still have a family hunting camp in the southern tier where I’ve hunted quite a few times, and killed many ruffed grouse.  

 

 

Edited 16 hours ago by wolc123

[fasteddie]

One brother had his eyes focused on the rabbit . 

[Doc]

In the 1980's, a group of 4 of us bowhunting coworkers decided to go on a moose hunt. We drove everyone in the office crazy with our attempts at the perfect cow moose call, for about a year. We studied topo maps and researched every moose hunting magazine article we could find.

Well, finally we did it. We went up to Shining Tree, Ontario Canada. We were required to use an outfitter so we had them get the licenses and we booked a cabin (which we didn't actually use) for a week's hunt. From the camp, we drove many miles on an old dirt road. Unloaded the canoes and gear at a very remote lake. We went to the end of that lake and portaged about 150 yards into another lake and went to the far end of that lake. We were in deep.

So that evening we set up two tents and all the things that we needed for a wilderness camp. That night we were all sitting around the campfire in the pitch dark, many miles from any civilization, Yacking about the usual B.S. that hunters talk about at a campfire....

Oh but wait.....There was a nasty little prank that was brewing long before we ever left home. Our dog loved to play tug of war with an old bath towel and while she was yanking on the towel, she would start with this gosh-awful loud snarling and growling like some sort of deranged rabid wolf. It was scary. But it gave me an idea. I had this small portable battery-powered cassette tape recorder. So I put about a 15 minute empty segment on the beginning of the tape and then started taping a bunch of this loud wolf-like snarling and growling. Yeah, you're probably already guessing what I did.....

Back to the campfire. I said I was going to take a leak, and I left the group and went off into the darkness with the tape-player. I turned the thing on and returned to the campfire. The 15 minute blank section of the tape let everybody forget that I ever left the campfire. Suddenly, there was a loud horrible wolf-like snarling and growling coming from out in the pitch black darkness not far from the camp. 

Panic set in as everybody scrambled for knives hatchets and any weapon we could put our hands on. By the way this was an archery moose hunt so there were no firearms in camp. I did my best he-man John Wayne act and volunteered to lead the way out to see what this creature was. When we got to the tape-player, I dove on it and turned it off. It took a while before everyone caught on. I guess it was my rolling around on the ground laughing that kind of tipped them off.

It is surprising that they didn't throw me in the lake.