Your most exciting hunt (for game animals not people please)

[GRB]

What was your most exciting hunting moment?

As for mine, I guess taking my first buck (an 8 pointer) at full charge down a hill slope. I had done it all right. I had scoped out the area, and seen lots of sign. I had gotten to my stand early and placed some deer scent at the right places. I waited a while then I rattled. Sure as anything, I heard deer walking in on my stand about 5 to 10 minutes after I had rattled. Then I saw the doe and she was followed by a buck. It was pretty exciting at that moment and both of them were distracted from me by one another. I aimed in on a "sure" kill shot as the buck sniffed and licked the doe during a little prelude to mating. Just as I was squeezing the trigger, she spooked just a bit and trotted off a few paces. Maybe it had been because of something I had done but, maybe it was something the buck was doing. I think it more likely she was just not quite ready for the buck at that precise moment. I had not been looking at the whole picture right at that moment because I was aimed in on the kill zone, I had a perfect broadside shot lined up - well as perfect as things can get before they get messed up. Of course the buck, an 8 pointer trotted after her and my shot hit him in the left hind quarter (which I only found out later). He spun left on a dime and, he took off at full speed downhill. Well my stand was situated near a few deer trail intersections and just off of one of the trails. That trail came down the hill right at my stand then just before getting to the stand it curved off a bit away from me. So, when the buck took off he wound up coming down the trail directly at me. The buck and doe only been about 15 - 20 yards off (25 at the maximum) but, by the time I had pumped the 870 and gotten it aimed in again, he was only about 25 - 30 feet off. I was amazed at how fast he was (even more amazing when you realize where the first shot had hit). That space seemed pretty darned close too, him with his head down, antlers gleaming in the afternoon sunlight and, him at full speed coming right at me. It was one heck of an exciting moment. I took him down with a neck shot, he fell to his front knees and tumbled over twice before coming to a stop about 8-10 feet from me off to my right. I don't think he was actually charging me - just trying to get away and following the deer trail. It just happened that because of how the trail came toward and then by my stand it had him coming full bore right at me as he ran.

Man I wish I had a head cam/video to give you all a true picture of it. It was exhilarating, if only for the couple of seconds it lasted. I've taken a few deer and other animals (small game) since then and have never had anything as exciting as those few moments in the woods on my uncle's farm in upstate NY. By the way, I was using a Rem 870 with slugs. The first one tore up his hind quarter pretty bad, the second shot hit him in the neck breaking it, then the slug traveled the path of the spine all the way back to the left hindquarter where I had first hit him. It was pretty torn up (both the deer and what was left of that second slug). Still I got a nice few meals out of it and a nice set of antlers and a tanned hide.

Sadly I did not have its head mounted. I should have listened to the taxidermist where I brought the skin for tanning - he said you may never see another deer as nice as this in the rest of your hunting life. While I have seen many that were much better, I have never gotten a shot at them. Think about his words to me when you take your first buck and don't be shy about spending a buck on getting a head mount like I had been. When I take my son out on his first successful deer hunt, if he gets one even half as good and wants it mounted - it will be hanging on our living room wall in no time!


All the best,
Glenn B

 

[Mannlicher]

For me, it was a hog hunt years ago in North Florida. I had been after a big boar for a long time. On this late afternoon dreary, dark, and wet November Saturday, I was tracking him through Pinhook Swamp north of Sand Hill Road in North Baker County.
I was following him from hammock to hammock, and wading through thigh and waist deep water.
As I approached one hammock, that stood above head level, I pulled myself up using a root. As my head cleared the bank, the boar charged. I managed to touch off one round from my Flattop Ruger .44 Blackhawk. The piggy kept on moving forward, off the bank, and fell on top of me, still thrashing and squealing. The momentum carried me to the bottom of the swamp, losing my Ruger in the process. I was not sure at all if he ( or I ) was alive or dead.
When things settled down, the boar was indeed dead. The 240 grain JSP entered his mouth, and took out the back of his skull.
After diving around in the water, I found the Ruger. I had to drag the darn thing to a shelf, and quarter him. Weight was over 250 pounds. It took several trips to get the boar out of the swamp, and I was very late getting home. It's kinda of spooky out in the swamp in the dead of night.
That was my most exciting hunt, but the time I took a bear in the same area was, well, thats another story

 

[H&Hhunter]

If you folks will allow me to indulge..

I wrote about this last year. If the moderaters would like me to remove this as it's already been posted once before please do so. This is an edited version and was used by B. Searcy Inc.Rifles on his web sight for over a year.

It is one of my most exciting hunting stories please enjoy. If you've already read it please feel free to skip over it.

Here goes..........................................................................................


Why I only shoot double rifles on dangerous game.

After it was all over and we settled down to a easy heart rate of 150 or so and my hands had gone from steady to adrenaline let off shakes extraordinaire. My PH looked at me with a distant gaze and simply stated “in 12 years of professional hunting I’ve only had two serious buffalo charges and they’ve both been in the last two weeks and in both cases if the client hadn’t had a double someone would have got killed”. He then looked at the ground and said “that’s as close as I’ve come, we damn near got sorted”.

The statement didn’t need to be made for my sake I was well aware of just how close we’d been to becoming the latest, greatest, hunters to be sponged up into a plastic bag and sent home on ice. Sometimes in buffalo hunting or in any kind of dangerous game hunting things happen, and they happen so fast that you only have time to react or your gonna get hurt real bad or suffer a very violent death. This was one of those rare yet not unheard of situations. Just the day before we’d been talking about what a horrible year it's been for accidents, last month a famous booking agent and hunter got nailed by a buff not very far from this concession, she was very nearly killed and was still recovering in the hospital. Last week a client was charged and killed while buffalo hunting with another outfit in Africa. And a PH from South Africa was nailed by a buffalo and crippled up severely three weeks ago in Mozambique. Not to mention a rumored sevre savaging of a Ph in the Okavango by a wounded buff all in all It’s been a bad year for buffalo hunters.

This day was to start when we cut tracks from two massive footed old dugga boys at about 07:00. And had a visual contact with them shortly afterward. It had just been a brief glimpse but we liked what we’d seen. Both of the bulls appeared to be ragged thorn torn old warriors. We started to slowly and cautiously track these two old dagga boys in some of the nastiest thickest thorn and jesse I’d ever seen. After an hour or so we regained visual contact with the two buffalo and proceeded to stalk them in the thick stuff. We very meticulously moved through the thick brush scraping the layer of cornflake like dry leaves out of the way so as to muffle our steps. We were almost into position to take a shot when one of the buff spooked and they both thundered off into the Jesse snorting , crashing and breaking branches as they went. Their spoor indicated that they’d only run for some 100 yards or so then settled back into a comfortable walk and soon after proceeded to browse on the plentiful trees and vines in the area.

Another hour and once again we'd caught up to the buffalo they’d settled into a nice thick patch of mixed thorn and vine and trees that was all but impenetrable to a man and to do so with any resemblance of stealth would have been impossible.
There was however, one option that presented itself. A dry river bed circumnavigated the nasty patch of Jesse and allowed us to silently run past the buffalo in the sand the and get in front of them. We did so and were able to climb up the side of a mud embankment giving us a height and vision advantage. Now all we had to do was wait. The minutes turned into what seemed like hours before Cindisou our Matabelle tracker spotted the first gray shape start to materialize out of the tangled jungle below. First an ear, then a leg then a set of bosses, finally a whole buffalo but it was not the one we were waiting for the bulls had picked up a third buffalo somewhere. Our boy was the grizzled old veteran we’d seen earlier in the day. This buffalo was younger and did not have nearly as much character. As the first buffalo faded past and disappeared Lance, my PH leaned over and whispered “when your boy comes he’ll cross right where the other one did if he gives you a shot take it and mind the brush we don’t need a wounded buff in this hell hole.” I looked into the now vacant spot, my only shot was through a lane about 4 feet around and about 100 yards or so down into the flat.
It wasn’t long before another gray shape started to materialize he stood with just his head exposed for a long time then finally stepped into the clearing giving me a hard quartering on shot to the shoulder. My Searcy .470NE was already in position, the well fitted rifle smoothly came to position and held steady and as I rested my elbows on my knees. Lance leaned over and whispered “if he doesn’t go down to shot give him the other barrel quickly we don’t want trouble in here".

The front bead rested in the shallow V of the rear sight, I took a deep breath and let it half out and squeezed the rear trigger, in the recoil I could see that the 500Gr Barnes X had struck pay dirt a puff of dust exploded just behind the point of the bulls shoulder and with a resonationg thwack the buff hunched up kicked hie rear legs and charged into the dense thorn thicket ahead. I quickly placed my finger on the front trigger and gave him the second barrel just as he disappeared into the Jesse. The 500gr Barnes monolithic solid hit him just at the last rib and ripped all the way through his vitals and into his neck on the off side.

Lance looked up at me and saying "it looked good lets give him some time and we’ll go collect him". We sat for approximately 25 nervous minutes, we could hear the buffalo standing and breathing heavily and coughing he wasn't 50 yards from his original position but the thickness of the foliage kept us from seeing him he was obviously hit hard and the wound sounded as if it was probably mortal. The trackers were all smiles and thumbs up. They also felt the shots had been good.

After calming down a bit we proceeded into the hellish Jesse two solids in the spout and two in my left hand. My big Searcy double felt comforting in my now sweaty palms as we very slowly, very cautiously proceeded into the thick tangled jungle of leaves vines and thorns. If you have ever had or ever do get the privilege to track a wounded cape buffalo into thick brush you’ll notice that every nerve ending is alive, all of your senses are magnified 10 fold. It is one of the greatest adrenaline elevators known to man. We proceeded very slowly swinging rifles on every sound, every twig breaking and every leaf rustling could well be the start of a full blooded charge, you are hyped up and ready for a life or death fight. Suddenly to our right we hear the bull crashing around and we turned just in time to see his dim shape through the brush he is stumbling and falling over. Good news we think, and we turn to engage our target as we now have a good yet very obstructed visual . At about 15 yards lance is just able to make out the bulls head. He says he got a shot I tell him to take it. I’m thinking that we need to end this before it gets serious. A situation like this is no place for heroics or an ego problem. This is a life or death situation and you absolutely let your PH do back up shooting in this circumstance. No whining about being the sole shooter as that will get somebody killed.

Lance raises his battered old .470 land lines up on the bulls head, and shoots. I am expecting the bull to roll over and give the tell tale leg shake of a brain shot. Much to my surprise the bull jumps to his feet snorts a vicious low bellow from his gut and immediately launches into a determined charge. At this point in the game somebody is going to die, either you or him, but somebody is fixing to go down. The bull is coming and he’s coming fast and furious both lance and I shoot through the thick brush screen that separates the bull from us simultaneously hitting the bull square in the chest with over 10,000ftlbs of combined energy and 940” of combined diameter 1000grs of .470 bullets strike the bull square in the chest. It has no apparent affect, the bull he doesn’t even flinch he just soaks it up and keeps coming if anything more determined now than before.

Lance drops off to my right his rifle is now empty. I charge to my left And remember clearly hearing the ejectors from lances double ping open. The bull is just clearing the Thorn brush that has separated us. I wait until his front half clears the brush at that same moment the bull clears he is ducking his head in preparation to hook me on his horns. The big double automatically follows my eye with much practice and preparation this well fit rifle has become an extension of my body. My front bead finds it’s mark and has settled on the junction of the neck and the shoulders of this massive fast moving bull his head is flailing around to much for a head shot. My right barrel fires almost as if automatically when the sight picture is correct when the rifle fires it feels and sounds like a cap gun I'm so hyped up I don't even really notice the heavy rifle pushing back into my shoulder, but the bull collapses into a heap, my second barrel has broken the bulls spine at the junction of the shoulder and the neck. I continue my left dodge and reload on the dash pinging two empties over my right arm and dunking two more solids into the smoking breeches. The bull is struggling to get up. The fog of extreme action is starting to clear from my brain and a seemingly distant voice is urgently requesting for me to “shoot him again”. For a moment I’m mesmerized at the sight, the smell, the sound and the extreme proximity of the bull. He is down at less than 15 feet. I am staring to realize that lance is standing right behind me and telling me to shoot him again. I calmly raised the .470 and send a final solid through his neck just behind the ear. The bulls head settles into the ground and he releases his last breath his eyes roll back into his head and his whole body relaxes. YThe old warrior is dead.

On post mortem we found that both of my first two shots crossed the boiler room but both passed behind the heart . We recovered my first bullet a 500gr X in the opposite flank just forward of the hind quarter. The solid has crossed from about the last rib through both lungs and is under the hide just below the spine at the base of his neck. His lungs looked like swiss cheese but 25 minutes later he still had enough fight left in him to very nearly end all of our worldly troubles. At Lances first shot the bullet had deflected on some sticks and had pierced the bulls ear in a full tumble and burned his neck with a graze. That set the bull into motion. Lances second shot and my first were about an inch apart and both struck the bull in the middle of the chest to low to hit the spine, my final shot broke the bulls back putting him down. This entire scene unfolded in less than 3 or 4 seconds.

On closer inspection we found that this old dugga boy was no stranger to mortal combat with man his left eye was missing and the socket was long healed over he also had an old scar just below the eye and his molars had been shot out the wound was most likely an old musket ball from a poacher in the distant past. .

Later that evening lance and I sat around the mopane fire and discussed the days events over much gin and tonic and Castle lager. The outcome of this scenario could have been quite different. If I had not been shooting a well balanced and fitted double capable of delivering the classic one two punch that these fine rifles were designed for I or one of our party very likely could have been seriously wounded or killed. I will never hunt dangerous game again with anything other than a fine Searcy double rifle.


Gregory T Allyn July, 26th 2004

 

[H&Hhunter]

Mannlicher,

That is one hell of a scary story. I'll bet you though it was all over when Mr. piggy slamed into you. Two diving into swamp water ain't my idea of fun and three solo swamping at night sounds plenty spooky to me!

Great story!

 

[Preacherman]

I posted my story here some years ago, but in the interests of scientific recollection (aided by a certain amount of poetic license ) here it is again...

It's a long story, but here goes...

Hunter stands in back of pickup on a cold winter morning in the Transvaal, surrounded by three trackers, with PH and hunter's companion (female) in cab of pickup. Pickup is moving at ±10 mph across broken ground towards parking area, where all concerned will debus and spend the morning stalking eland, kudu and assorted African antelope.

Large rhinoceros is carelessly bumped by PH (driving) as he rounds a bush. Large (and now very angry) rhino jerks upright, snorting loudly, as three trackers decamp from back of pickup at lightning speed, disappearing up trees so fast they look like Speedy Gonzales on methamphetamine. PH's voice comes from cab of truck loudly entreating hunter to shoot the expletive deleted rhino before it performs an anatomically impossible act on the pickup, the morals of which are definitely suspect. Hunter's girlfriend meanwhile encourages swift action with unintelligible shrieks of... I dunno - alarm? Passion? Pro-rhinoceros propaganda? PETA slogans???

Hunter realizes that his moment of glory and great renown hath dawned at last. Takes firm grasp upon stock and fore-end of rifle, lifts toward his shoulder, and promptly strikes end of barrel against metal framework above cab of pickup. Since he is carelessly grasping trigger rather firmly at the time, the rifle obediently fires, sending .375 H&H softpoint (plus entire contents of muzzle flash) through roof of cab, removing PH's hat, and scaring hunter's girlfriend into a vow of chastity (at least as far as he's concerned, so to speak...).

PH's voice floats back to hunter, inquiring somewhat urgently whether or not he is aware of what, precisely, he is doing, and urging him in tones of sweet reasonableness to connect with the rhino before said rhino connects with pickup. Before hunter can answer, said rhino makes contact, and hunter is thrown bodily from pickup, landing a$$-first in large thorn bush thoughtfully placed by the Almighty in a spot convenient for his landing. Hunter exclaims thoughtfully "Oh, dearie me..." (or words to that effect), and tries vainly to get up out of thorns now pinning him to the African landscape.

Giving up his escape efforts, he fires four rounds at rhino, now standing at a later-measured distance of 5 feet (yes, FIVE FEET!!!) from him, looking at him with an inquisitive eye. Clean-misses every single shot - not even a puff of smoke from the ground or a fallen leaf from the bushes around the rhino. All this time, PH and girlfriend are imploring Heaven, Hell and everything in between (particularly the hunter) to please DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT F#$%*@G RHINO!!!

At about the time hunter decides to seek additional ammo. from his belt pouch, rhino decides that he's had enough fun for one morning, and disappears behind a bush, not to be seen again that day. After much discussion (sadly, not altogether in the Queen's English), PH and girlfriend aid hunter in removing himself from thorn bush. All limp homeward, taking over 3 hours to get there, pickup now being a sideways-leaning feature of the African landscape. Asked (repeatedly and profanely) by both PH and girlfriend (soon to be ex-) why he hadn't connected at a range so short with a target so big, hunter lamely tries every single excuse in the book, including shell-shock, thorns in fundament, inability to see more than one ear through scope, etc... None of them worked!

Hunter never goes out with that particular PH again, who (shortly thereafter) takes up with hunter's ex-girlfriend. At their wedding, PH's muzzle-blast-scarred hat takes a prominent part in the "How they met" story told by the best man (yes, it was the hunter... and I'm sorry to say the hunter was me!!!)