[SWO1]

Many instincts that we have from our ansestors have diminished over 100s of thousands of years. But many do come into play when hunting. Two such incidents that have happened to me I will share, one for now and another later. This first one is pretty funny, the second one is not so funny and at the time down right scarry.

1. While turkey hunting one spring, I was sitting in my deerstand, the 20ft elevated one in the deer stand thread. After just a few minutes there I was overcome with the eery feeling that I WAS BEING WATCHED !! I couldnt shake the feeling. I slowly rotated around in my swivel chair trying to locate whatever it was watching me. This went on for well over two hours. It made me really uncomfortable. Now when you are Turkey hunting you cannot use anything larger than #4 shot. Unless you are hunting on your own land cant even carry anything larger. BUT....I do carry 3 00Buck loads, just in case. I jacked out the two turkey loads in my 835 and chambered a 00 and loaded the other two in the magizine. I have never had the thought I had to before, but this Instinct that took over my thoughts told me that I WAS BEING WATCHED made me do it. As i continued to scan the area around my stand, for what ever reason I looked up. About 20 yards from my stand is a Very Large old oak tree. A limb comes out and extends probley 30 ft straingt out, about 35 feet up. Where the limb meets the tree is a large knot hole. Laying in that hole, smiling like a chesser cat is a Huge ole Buck Raccoon....JUST STARING DOWN AT ME !!!!! I laughed out loud so hard I thought I would whizz in my drawers. The feeling instently went away, I reloaded my gun and continued to watch for turkey. That was about 7-8 years ago and I have not since felt the need to chamber the BuckShot, BUT I STILL DO CARRY IT.

Anyone else have any Strange, Wierd, Funny such happinings ??????????

 

[SHOOTER13]

Good story SW01...!!

 

[duster066]

I've been hunting from the top of a dead wood pile, maybe 15 feet high. Two years ago I planned to stay the night up there, but got uncomfortable and sore and decided to go back to the truck to sleep. It was just getting full dark and I managed to get off the pile without breaking my neck, and started the half mile walk back to the truck. I didn't get any weird feeling I was being watched, but I did get very nervous. I realized if there was a big kitty out there and if he was so inclined, in the dark I wouldn't stand a chance. So last week I'm out on that same dead wood pile, intending to spend the night. At about 0130 I am chilled to the bone and beginning to feel hypothermic. I considered going back to the truck, but fear of moving through the forest at night caused me to stay put. I did get attacked that night...by an owl who thought I might be a tasty meal. He must have been attracted to my head movement and he dove on me several times. On one pass he put himself in a hover to get a better look. He must have seen I was much bigger than he thought and he flew away.

I love being in these mountains alone partially because it does scare me. There is something primal going on there.

 

[hombre243]

I was sitting in a deer stand about 20 feet up and I spotted a large hawk about a hundred yards straight out in front of me. He seemed interested in something in my tree. It was my eyes he was watching and after a while the hawk just lifted off his limb and flew straight at my face. I had to stand up and wave my bow ans yell so it wouldnt claw my eyes out. His feet were pointed at me and he finally flared and dodged me at the near distance of about 10 feet. I didn't realize hawks were so large...I didn't wet my shorts but I did have to patch the little round hole in the plastic seat of my stand.

 

[1894]

I had 2 " somethings watching me " things while I was in the camp over the last few years .
One was just a warm week and the deer weren't moving , stayed in for a rainy afternoon and was reading a book. had that feeling though. I finished a chapter and stood up . Sure enough I was being watched. Fetched the camera and the red light on it sparked the curiosity of what was watching me even more .

Other was cleaning up the kitchen . Got that " something is out there " feeling again.
Yep , sure enough new neighbor had moved into the area.

One other , but that is a tough one to write about for me.

 

[hombre243]

Is that a ferret or a mink? I don't see many of these little guys. I caught a ferret in town once but it was an abandoned pet. That looks like a Blackfooted Ferret up there. The owl may be a Grey Owl or a Barn Owl. You probably know more about what's in your bailiwick. Do you know what they are? What a treat.

I was in Minnesota bear hunting in 77 and was buried in a brushpile blind. I was half laying/half sitting on a log with my legs up and my toes stickin up. I dozed off for a minute and was wakened by a loud scream. Seems I had plopped my carcass right over the opening to a little furry critter's den. Could have been a mink or an ermine. I don't know but I know he wanted me to leave so I moved a bit and he scooted right past me, unafraid. Sure made a heck of a noise when he got P/O'd.

 

[1894]

The owl is a Barred owl

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barred_Owl

The fluffy critter is a pine marten

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Marten

This is a short tailed weasel with its winter ( Ermin ) coat on . At least that's what they are here .

After he had a field mouse for lunch

 

[hombre243]

Yep

The owl is a Barred owl

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barred_Owl

The fluffy critter is a pine marten

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Marten

This is a short tailed weasel with its winter ( Ermin ) coat on . At least that's what they are here .

After he had a field mouse for lunch

Yep, that was what was sittin on my toe screaming at me wantin me to get the heck out of his doorway.

 

[1894]

I tried , but the story behind this pic is still hard to put in type . I'll get it out , but not tonight. It does tie in with SWO1s OP.

 

[Bucky]

I once had a Sambar Stag honk at me from about 20 ft away. I did not see him
My instinct was to shit myself, and I almost did

 

[greyhawk50]

Yes, I believe that we have senses that we don't always pay attention to.

The years was 1976 in McKean County Pa.
Deer Season opened on Monday and there were 21 hunters in our camp. The pick'ns were slim that year. Only 2 deer hanging on the game pole.
So, it's Thursday and I decided to go deeper than normal. As I traversed the rim of the far ridge, I spotted a legal buck, downhill at about 135 yards. Having not been detected, I assumed the sitting position, took careful aim and let one fly. The buck bolted for about 15 yards and stopped behind a V shaped tree with his vitals exposed between the two trunks. Again, I took careful aim and sent projectile #2. Again, he bolted, only that time, out of sight.
I walked, what seemed like forever, downhill until I found signs in the snow of making a solid hit. From there I followed the tracks in the snow, up and over a little knoll. There he was, folded like a pretzel about 60 yards from where I hit him with my 30-30.
The time was 16:15 and it gets pitch black in those woods at 17:00. So, I began to field dress the buck and then came that feeling that you've spoken about. Someone watching me?? I looked up and around but nothing. Numerous times, I looked up and nothing. So, field dressing complete and the drag rope attached and I hear this big voice; "Hey, you got my deer. I shot him on the other ridge and have been tracking him for over an hour". To which I replied, "My knowledge of fair hunt is, whoever puts him down - owns him". With that, the guy left. Somewhat angry but left never the less.
By this time, I've got 20 minutes until the lights go out. I drug the buck down hill to another camp where I ask for a ride via the highway & back to my camp. There were 2 really old guys (about my age now) in a camper and they had both been drinking pretty heavily. They gave the excuse that their truck wouldn't run but offered to buy my deer. "No thanks" was my replied. By this time, it was dark but I was prepared. Always carried a flash light and enough supplies to spend a night in the woods if needed.
So I began the long drag back to the base of the logging trail. It took me 2 hours to reach the trail head. From there it was 1 1/4 mile uphill to the camp. I though to myself, "There is no way - I owned a brand new Jeep CJ-7 that is sitting in the camp at the top of that ridge and they can drive down and get me."
About 20 minutes later, here came the guys and my Jeep. I ask, "Where you guys been?" They replied, "We knew where you were. Supper was ready and we didn't want to eat it cold."
Gee, what are friends for????
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

 

[1894]

Trying again.
My Dad and I had a " Divine intervention " thing happen @ 30 years ago . He was at camp and planned to be home Sunday the next week. No telephone , before cell phones . He ( like you can imagine SWO1 and greyhawk ) was punctual to a fault . If he said he'd be home a week from next Sunday , he was home on that day , not before or after.
I interrupted that by being a dumb azz teenager that thought drinking and driving was no big deal .
That evening , somehow , my car defied all laws of physics . There was a Guardian angle that helped me at that moment.
That evening , 120 miles away , at camp my Dad was overwhelmed with a very strong , never felt before , an urgency that " something is wrong at home and you need to get there NOW " . He did listen to that voice / feeling , and closed up camp and drove home.
Fast forward to 2006 , I lost my Dad late summer 2005 . Camp was always his camp . I spent a bunch of years helping build the one we have. But , it was His camp. Fall of '05 , was tough dealing with his passing. '06 I got the nerve to try some of his deer rifles . Settled on his " foul weather " 336 in 35 rem.
It fit like my other 2 Marlins it was just a point an click .
Back up at camp in '06 , same crap . Missing Dad , moping and just every where I looked reminded me of him . Mind plays some funny games when you are alone for a length of time. I fell right into that.
One morning I woke up and a lil fresh snow fell overnight. Deep in that mental state of not being able to let go , re-running in my mind the times I had missed with my Dad , once again I just said " fuggit". Made some more breakfast , more coffee , and tossed some more wood in the stove.
Had to be close to 9 am ( 0900 ) and that " feeling " hit me . About like a ton of bricks or a smack upside my head . It just told me to get off my sorry but , and get out there .
I got my woolins on , grabbed that foul weather 35 and with Dads handloads . I stepped off the porch , looked up and said a prayer that I hoped Dad was watching over me .
There was something , can't explain it , but just a feeling that Dad was there . Couple hundred yards up the road to where the " old camp " used to be . He visited that camp for the first time in 1947 . That's the end of the road ( read driveway ) .
I headed up the trail behind the old camp.
Again, beautiful day , fresh snow , sunshine and blue skies . That feeling was tangible , it was there , overwhelming . I could feel my Dad smiling down at me , he was there with me.
Just a couple hundred yards up that trail , a black bear just silently ( they really are shadows ) was about to cross the trail at maybe 20 yards from me , broadside .
I stopped , eased the hammer back from 1/2 cock . Looked for any sign of cubs and there were none.
Dads rifle shouldered , aimed , and I think a thousand questions raced thru my mind over those few seconds .
As loud as if he was standing right next to me I clearly heard " Well , if yer gonna shoot , then shoot !!!! "
Booger hook off the outside of the lever , touched that crisp trigger , dang , I've seen bears scoot fast before , but a couple hundred grains of .35" JSP going thru one speeds them up a bit .
Was taught like SWO1 mentioned , don't chase , sit for a while. Found the brass I ejected , Still shaking I heard my first bear death moan as I was trying to light a cigarette.
Spooky sound that is.
Was scary as the bear headed for scrub pines , I had no idea what a death moan was from a bear was .
Gutted , downhill drag ( don't try to drag a bear from the back , head forward works best
So I ended up with this . Me and my Dad , no one else at camp or neighbors in for help.

And this is why this pic means so much to me .
Dads rifle , same time I took the above pic.

 

[greyhawk50]

What a wonderful, wonderful story.
Thank you so very much for sharing.
I'm sure that you are thankful for the memories and even more thankful for such a special relationship with your father.
Not everyone is so blessed. Many relationships suffer, more and more as the sanctity of the family is eroded. I'm sure you will count your blessings and cherish your memories as you do your part to carry on in your father's foot steps.
Great story. Again, Thanks so much for sharing.

Lord, gotta love these fine people on this forum.

EDIT
By the way, that is a beautiful bear. You done good to get that monster out by yourself.

 

[SWO1]

Things come and go.....Memories never fade.

 

[1894]

Grey , not everything is as it seems .
The camera makes the bear look huge in that pic , really she was only 3.75 years old . 170#'ish pounds dressed . Best tasting meat I've ever had though.
3.75 is the avg age of most bears harvested around here . Oldest one harvested and aged in our state was 42.75 years old.

Better perspective in this pic . I just liked the tractor in the other one .

 

[SWO1]

OK.............Time for the Really Wierd incident. This happened a long time ago. I was still in High School. Had 3 friends I used to always go hunting with. We would catch a ride with someone, hitchhike or whatever and go out to Mount Miguel in San Diego County. If youve ever been in San Diego and looked South East you will see it. Today its solid houses to and up and beyond it. In the Early 60's there was NOTHING for 30 miles from its base to Diego. And East and South many, many miles of nothing.

We had went on a Friday....stayed at our favorite spot next to a small pond. It had bull frogs which we ate. Otherwise we took old WWII C rats which were plentful then. All our fathers were in the Navy so had plenty of them. After not doing much but setting up camp and eating and shooting the bull Friday afternoon and evening we spent all day Saturday trapsing all over the area. Up and Down Canyons. Got a couple Coyotes and a lot of Jack Rabbits. Thought we saw a Cougar but never confirmed. Did kill a few rattle snakes which we ate that evening.

On returning to camp late that afternoon we were tired and dirty. Took a dip in the pond, cleaned up and put on fresh clothes. We would hike back to an old corral at the end of a dirt road about 10 miles down the mountain and be picked back up Sunday afternoon.

It was late that night, dont remember what time, but the fire was dying down and each of us went about preparing to turn in. For some reason I had this overwhealming sence of danger. I didnt know why or what for. I picked up my rifle and faced in a direction it seemed to come from. Up until now I hadnt paid any attention to the other 3 nor where any words spoken by any of us. As I glanced around I noticed that they also had their weapons at the ready and were also staring out into the night.

There was a small tree about 20 yards from the pond. It had outstreched limbs about 4 ft. from the ground, kind of like a big umbrella. It was only about a ft. around or so. Again without a word being spoken we all with rehearsed like persission went and picked up our packs, canteen, and food. We proceeded to the tree, each keeping an eye in a different direction. We sat down with our backs to the trunk, each facing in a different direction as the points on a compess. On looking back, we circled the wagons. I took out the extra ammo I had and laid it on the pack. As I looked, they had also. It had gotten complettly quite....No cricketts, no frogs, no coyote yelps.... nothing....total silence.
We all sat there until daylight, never speaking a word, and I know I never closed my eyes, dont think I even blinked.

With the daylight the birds started fluttering around, and normanl sounds to the area returned. We all got up and prepared breakfast. We never made mention of the incident to each other. Never have. We never returned to that area. The next year I joined the Mairne Corps, One joined the Navy, one was drafted into the Army, and the other very soon after that his father got transfered and I never saw or heard from him again. I have seen and spoken to the other two over the years, the last time about 4 years ago. The matter has NEVER been brought up. What ever it was we all experinced the exact same thing, at the same time and exibiting the exact behavior as if by instinct. Probley the greatest mystery of my life.

 

[greyhawk50]

Instinct or the stirring of the Spirit??
Shortly after my wife & I were married (I believe it was the first year, 1977??), she wanted to go with me to Pa. on my annual deer hunting trip. Maybe so she could better understand my obsessive attraction. We owned a 13' Hi-Low camper and pulled it with my '77 Jeep CJ-7.
Don't remember the exact night but it was unusually cold and windy. The camper was equipped with a LP Gas Catalytic Heater. Normally, the front window was open 2" or more to allow for ventilation. That night, because of the cold & wind, I closed the window to about 1/2 that amount. After all, it was 15" or so tall. Plenty of air, right??
We had both went to sleep and it was the middle of the night. For some unknown reason, I woke up with the feeling that something was terribly wrong. That was back when both of us were smokers.
I arose and sat on the side of the bed as the disturbing feeling was overwhelming. I reached for my cigarettes and lighter. After placing one in my mouth, I flicked my Bic. Nothing. Again and again - nothing. Then it dawned on me - No Oxygen!!.
I reached up and swung the door open. Then I shook my wife and she was OK.
Call it instinct, the Holy Spirit, Guardian Angel or Father GOD Himself???
For whatever reason, I have never stopped being thankful for the stirring that I experienced that night.

 

[SWO1]

How do we know things !!
I grew up with my Grandfather, half Blackfoot Suix and half French. He is the one who I learned what little I know about hunting, the woods and animals.

While at Staging Battilion preparing to go to Viet Nam there was a large bursh fire on base. It was early Friday Afternoon and we were getting weedend liberty. They were pulling units to go fight the fire. We were hurrying to get changed into civies and get the heck out before being VOLENTEERED. I remember standing in front of my locker just getting ready to close the door and leave for the bus station for the short trip to San Diego and my Parents house. It JUST HIT ME.....GRANDPA IS DEAD !! Like a loud voice in my head from out of the blue. I quickly brushed the thought out of my mind and beat feet off base. As I walked to the front door later that afternoon my mother was comming out the door, dressed up and with a suitcase. She said I going to the Airport. Your Grandfather Passed away today and I have to go be with your grandmother. That was over 45 years ago and I can still clearly hear that voice.

 

[1894]

Re-reading this thread reminds me that not everything that happens can be explained away by logic or some quantitative / qualitative <thanks spellin' check > scientific reasoning.