how about some funny hunting or camping stories. I was 10 I was with my father & 3 of his marine friends from base we lived in Jacksonville nc & they were stationed at new river. we were goose hunting at lake mattamuskeet & staying in a camper. well I went to sleep after supper per my fathers orders & they comenesed to drinking Jim beem & I don't know how many bottles of Jim beem later it was but I could not stand it no more they were singing roasting chestnuts over an open fire.well I swung open the door & there stood 4 hard as nails Vietnam vet marines staring at me with deer in the headlights eyes thinking o sh*t for about 30 seconds than they all busted out laughing louder than before & I went back in the camper discussed. but we did have a great goose hunt the next day. I miss my dad he died young I was 20 when he passed. well that's one to get started with iv got a few more

Cool thread timex! Here is one from bear camp: I was 12, it was 1984 and it was my first time at bear camp in Tionesta, PA with the men. It was myself, my dad and 4 or 5 of his buddies. There was plenty of beer and whisky flowing and it was cold as we sat around the campfire and I listened intently to the tales being told (some probably a little too mature for my 12 year old ears) but hey, what happens at camp stays at camp. As the evening wore on, everyone took turns walking behind camp and gathering wood from the pile to throw on the fire as needed. Two of my dad's friends that were there were brothers. They were both pretty tough biker types and one of them, his nickname was Snake (for real) had lost his leg in a Harley wreck some years prior and had a wooden leg. The fire was getting low and Snake's brother said "Hey Snake go grab some wood for the fire. You haven't gotten one piece of wood for the fire all night." Snake was quite liquored up by this point and started arguing with his brother about getting the wood. I offered to go get the wood but my dad just shot me a look that said "Sit still and mind your own business". The arguing between the brothers got a pretty heated until Snake finally stood up, unhooked his wooden leg and tossed it onto the camp fire. His brother rescued it out of the fire, threw it at him, everyone had a good laugh and Snake went and got some actual wood. I still see Snake or his brother once in awhile and we still laugh about him throwing his leg on the fire.

Back in 1975 I was invited by a friend to join him, along with 4 or 5 others on a bowhunting trip to Michigan. My friend, Ray, was a real prankster and on about the second day of hunting he had found a grouse that had been wounded and could not fly. He managed to run the grouse down and capture it, then returned back to camp before anyone else returned for lunch. By 11am everyone had returned to camp for lunch and discuss the morning hunt and make plans for the afternoon. Ray had taken the grouse and put it in the glove box of his truck. He managed to warn everyone except Ron about the grouse. As we discussed plans for the afternoon hunt, Ray said he wanted to check out a new area to hunt and ask Ron to go get the map out of his truck, he told Ron "it's in the glove box"! When Ron opened the glove box the grouse came fluttering out and absolutely scared the crap out of him. Everyone was busting a gut, at Ron's expense, and Ron was calling Ray every name in the book, and vowed to get even. Always had lots of excitement in deer camp.

I was about 19, or 20 in the early 1970's and we were at an old log cabin in northern Ontario. This was about 2 hours north by logging road off of Hwy 17 and was fairly rustic.

There's no hardwood up there so no matter how you bank the fire, the temperature in the cabin is close to that of outdoors, by morning.

A carton of milk was left on the table, open, no chance of it spoiling over night.

The next morning, I poured myself a cup of milk.

It tasted funny, which I announced.

Dad said; "its your imagination" then tipping the carton up to drink from it continued with "you're full of sh......" upon which he stopped and set the carton back on the table.

The following exchange went;

Me: "What's wrong?"

Dad: "you don't want to know"

Me: "yes I do"

Dad: "NO, YOU DON'T"

Me: "YES I DO!"

Dad: "There's a mouse in there"

Me: "No there's not"

Dad: "Yes, there is!"

There was, I grabbed the closest bottle on alcohol and ran out through the cabin door, up ended it, gargled, spit and repeated several times.

Apparently, the greedy little beggar climbed up the carton in the night, fell in and drowned.

Just a few years back my dad and I were rifle hunting Barbary sheep in southern New Mexico. It was the first time we had hunted them so we weren't going to be picky. I saw a pair of sheep about five hundred yards from the road we were on so we agreed we would try and work across the couple of draws between us and them. By the time we caught up with them the were 3/4 to a mile from the road. We ended up shooting two pretty young sheep so dragging them was kinda like trying to carry them one handed. I got frustrated and slung my rifle crossways across my chest and threw the sheep over my shoulders. My dad kept dragging his till I was making noticeable progress so he did the same. It was dark and I got to the truck after a bit and expected him to be not far behind. When I looked up be was quite a ways back. I called and he didn't respond. He was standing up so he hadn't fallen down but he was standing still. When I got back to him he was just kinda taking one slow step at a time. I took the sheep off him and he instantly perked up. His rifle sling and the sheep's leg were cutting of the circulation to his head. He was confused why he was feeling light headed but didn't think to put the sheep down. Pretty funny once he felt fine.

Might as well add this one to the list. This was a different year, but pretty much same bunch of bowhunters and again deer camp in Michigan. My ol' friend Ray and a guy named "Bud", who was a co-worker of Ray's, had been out scouting for a couple of good stand locations. They had been inspecting around the edge of a small open area. There was a large oak tree with an old permanent stand in the middle of the open area with lots deer tracks around it. Ray said that he would climb into the old stand for the evening hunt. Bud headed to over to edge about 80 to 100 yards from Ray's stand and found an ideal location to hide in a brushy area. They had only been in the stands about an hour or hour an a half when nice young 8pt buck appeared and headed directly for the oak tree where Ray was waiting. Bud was watching the action unfold, as the buck was right under Ray. Suddenly the buck bolted from beneath the oak tree, running full-bore straight for Bud. It didn't take the buck long to cover the distance to Bud, and he only had seconds to try and shoot or get out of the bucks path. He opted for the latter but was a little late as the buck ran though his location. Bud gathered himself from the ground. There was blood on his bow,his arrows, and on his clothes. All the blood was from the deer and it lay dead about 50 yards up in the woods. Bud was an absolute wreck.

Years ago we knew a group of hunters that were very skilled and very successful, except one of them. The less capable guy lived by himself with a pack of dogs so all the guys called him woo- woo. One day Dennis, one of the best hunters I ever met, killed a rabbit while bow hunting deer. That night at camp all the guys cooked up a plan. Since woo-woo wasn't a good shot they propped up the rabbit so it looked alive and alert, but they set it up right in front of a big granite rock. Then the guys put their bows away. This was in the days of early wood compounds and aluminum arrows with three blade broadheads.

Now in those days all the guys would come back to the trucks and tailgate, drinks and stories for everyone.

As everyone is enjoying themselves, Dennis looks over and says 'Hey look there's a rabbit right there, woo-woo, you got your bow in the bed of the truck, get him!' It's already too dark to see sight pins through the peep.

Woo-woo proceeded to go into full hunter mode. The first shot missed but connected nicely with the granite rock. Rabbit doesn't move. Slowly another arrow out of the quiver, another granite bullseye. The guys whisper excitedly 'The rabbit doesn't know what's going on, give him another one, get him!' Arrow after arrow smashing off the rock, flying into the woods with the old school three blades getting the worst of the deal.

After every shot guys were suffocating themselves to squelch their laughter.

Finally woo-woo is out of arrows and Dennis says 'There's something wrong with that rabbit, I think you could creep up on him and maybe catch him by hand.' So woo-woo puts an epic stalk on the rabbit, knife in hand. He gets to the rabbit and just picks it up and says ' You guys won't believe this..it's dead!?!?'

The guys erupt with laughter and from that day forward woo-woo was teased before every bowhunt to keep his eyes peeled for a good chance at rabbit. The teasing continued for YEARS.

One day years ago a buddy of mine and I decided on the last day to duck hunt. It was 1 degree and the stop sign by the reservoir was turning sideways from the wind. It was cold. We decided foolishly, this coulda ended bad but we were young and dumb. We loaded up our otters which are puddle duck boats made for flat water. We put them in the reservoir w our gear tied down. Waves were about 3 feet or so. Let’s say it was scary but we made it to our location. Now this reservoir is man made from a flooding a mountain range. There’s lots of cliffs so you go from 3 feet to 15 in one step. I warned Joe not to get out of boat and place dekes. He didn’t listen. Next I knew he was gone. He came up but wet and real cold. Now Joe was an Airborne Ranger and kind of a meat head as you’ll see. We decided to pick up the few dozen dekes already down and get him to a warm truck. Joe in trying to help wraps decoy line in his prop. I ask him to hold a light on the job and HOLD his boat. Mine is snapped by a cord around my leg. So I get him free and realize he let the boat go. It’s about 100 yards out in heavy seas per se. I go out get the boat but two boats w catamaran style hulls in wind w electric motors is tough but I get them back. It’s now near daylight. I tell Joe to head back and call if he needs me. I’m staying. Long story shorter i shoot two ducks and hear crunching through the snow behind me. Joe heard me shoot and figured he’d beach his boat and half run back to me to warm up. Told ya he was a meathead. Now he’s gotta dump. He drops his drawers and when done he tries to clean up w underwear, they’re now frozen. Remember he was totally wet. It was comical listening to him. Anyway he finally finishes, gets to a tree at reservoir edge and drops gun in water. Comes out like an icycle. Can’t unload it, can’t move safely, etc. bad day for Joe. I actually have a few stories like this but I’ll spare ya

This happened back in the lat 70's or early 80"s. A buddy of mine named Gerry was absolutely terrified of rattlesnakes. Gerry was a good guy who never drank or cussed. One night he appeared out of the darkness coming back to camp. He had his customary plastic stovepipe snake leggings on dressed in camo with his face camo painted. His quiver was empty. He didn't say a word but walked over to the camp table and took a huge swig out of a bottle of whiskey and wiped down his camo painted face with a rag. He got only about half of the facepaint off. After he was able to speak, he explained he was walking back to camp at dark and found a rattlesnake on the trail. He emptied his quiver of arrows into the snake pinning it to the ground but not killing it. He would not go back to get his arrows so I went with him taking a shovel and dispatched the snake. I hope you can see him in these old 35mm photos I have tried to scan. He is in his half wiped face, plastic snake leggings holding the snake. You can see the holes in the snake. Gerry was immediately nicknamed "Snake" by the guys in camp. That nickname has stuck to this day. He was a sight to see!

Months go by. Snake is still Snake and remains terrified of snakes. He had to be brave to even get into the woods with his extreme fear of snakes. A bunch of us went Javelina hunting in South Texas. One of the guys had taken a really big rattler. In an attempt to get over his fear of snakes, our Snake picked up the big rattler and draped it over his neck. When the attached picture was taken we busted out again in laughter as he looked like an exotic dancer about to go on stage. We all laughed till we cried.

Two from Toad Smith, if yo don't know who he was google his name. He learned that corn hunting thing from me. Toad had a bait and tackle shop. One year he was giving out free bottles of Toad's Magic Deer Lure. He offered me a bottle and handed a bottle of Tink's Doe in Heat to my wife. If you knew Toad, that was a signal that something was afoot. I said, " no thanks, but thanks for the Tink's" He grabbed my coat and said as mean as he could muster, "Keep your big mouth shut." Later he admitted, the only thing in those free bottles was dee repellant. The second, Him and his buddy were heading out in the dark, his buddy had to poop. So out in the middle of a field in the dark his buddy dropped his camp coveralls and took care of business. Upon heading to the far end of the field , Toad said, "You stink" His buddy said that it was just his scent pad. A bit later they stopped and took a wind break and Toad said again, "No your really stink." Turns out his buddy pooped in the back of his camo coveralls.

At the Marshall, Michigan shoot a few years ago we "borrowed" a friends digital camera. We went around taking some interesting pictures with it. We had close up pictures of hairy nipples, beards, arm pits, butt cracks, etc. It even had a close up picture of the contents of a week old port-a-potty. We had someone return his camera with the story of finding it somewhere. He didn't see our pictures until he got home. I wish I could have been there to see the look on his face.

No names, but I remember a story. More of a camping story. Used to build log homes. Would tent camp right on site. Had a portapotty brought in. Boss every morning would go for a visit after a cup or coffee and a smoke. Again no names but a guy took one of those m80 bottle rocket creations, broke the stick off and dropped it lit down the chimney while the boss was doing morning paperwork. To say the least it was a nasty mess.

I sure figured this thread would have got more attention.......well here's a good one I was around 30 years old my boss at the time had a bunch of family home for Christmas & took them all up on the mountain hunting so I told him I'd deer dog for him & try to get some deer moving up the mountain so I started in the thickets on the east side of the mountain then up the mountain & down the back side through those thickets & about 3/4 the way back up the West side of the mountain I decided to take a break it was around 3 pm & the sun felt good so I laid back & took a nap a (6 hour nap) I woke up at 9:00 pm I couldn't believe it & iv never REALLY gotten it out of my mind. I was 45 minutes from the truck & the truck was 45 minutes from home. my wife was going nuts. my buddies told her to calm down I was probably dragging a big buck. so when I got home at 11:00 she was livvid to say the least & my buddies made it a point to remind me of my nap every occasion they got for many years. man think about that who or what may have happened by while I was snoozing

True story- Lee was laying bacon in the pan one morning in a Colorado elk camp, when suddenly a good bull runs right through camp. Lee takes a few steps, picks up his 4lb. Jennings arrowstar Hunter, comes to fall draw............ You can guess what happens next if I look at the next post.

The elk stops, Lee comes to a perfect full draw, and while holding the boat slips out of his hand, and the 4lb. Aerostar hunter handle slips out of his hand, hits him in the face and dislocates his jaw. By then the elk was well on its way back down the hill.

Sorry for the typos I hope you got the jest of it. Steve

not hunting but thought funny

Sort'a a camping story; We were"camping" in the Black forest in Germany playing war games, the usual stuff, two teams fighting each other with blanks and bravado.

At the end of the day some shave tail LT got the bright idea to go to town and bring back a truckload of German beer to "reward" the troops for doing well.

GIs and unlimited beer is not a good idea...

Everyone got sloshed including one pitiful lifer who in spite of being in the army 20 years had never risen above the rank E- 4. He was mentally challenged, a monster of a man and unfortunately a crying drunk.

We were an aviation unit, this was at night in the dead of winter so we all had on long flight coats on with fur hoods.

Anyway, the crying drunk was really wailing about how nobody loved him and such and needed to go to the latrine. For our group the latrine was a straddle pit about 2 ft deep and 10 ft long. He dropped his pants, straddled the latrine in the middle and promptly lost his balance and fell backwards into the well used latrine. When he climbed out, a greater mess would be hard to imagine.

Naturally we all gave him a round of applause and a huge horse laugh.

We all thought this was really funny until the same LT pointed at a few of us and said "take him back to the post and clean him up", dang.

We couldn't get close to him with all the stuff clinging to him, so we put him in the back of a deuce and a half and drove him back to Manheim and Coleman Barracks.

We ushered him into the shower clothes and all, (he was still bawling), and told him not to come out until he had washed every stick of his clothes and every inch of his body. About an hour later he emerged appearing clean but one could tell there was still some rank perfume on him. Seems like we sent him back for another round of soap then gave him some clean clothes and took him back to the bivouac in the forest. What a waste of good beer!

That’s One Big Turkey!

WHAT does that say about education in this country????

Steve - all but the part about the #4 bow.

Maybe we should start a thread - “#4 - enough for Elk?”

LOL

I always told Lee it was way too much for Elk. Carrying around something that weighs 4 pounds all day gets old quick.

Another North of 17 story for Yam 68.

Lake Aux Sable is a beautiful lake in Grey owl country N/w of Sudbury Ontario. At the top end up a little creek we had our moose camp built simply with saplings covered by plastic sheeting. Back in the 80s friend Paul brought A fellow named Cliff up with him for the second week of the hunt. This fellow Cliff was a new member of our archery club a strapping young fellow, a kick boxer and all, afraid of nothing...oh yeah!! So we laid a plan before they came. Our out house was nothing more than a board between between two trees, crude, but functional with a nice view across cross bow creek, so named by us due to my pal Joe's home made weapon. So before Paul and Cliff turned up we took a black plastic garbage bag and stuffed it with boughs and moss, attached a line to it running back to camp.,and stashed it in the bush just past and behind our toilet. When the boys turned up we primed the pump with a tale of the bear that had been hanging around camp. Now Cliff had the habit of going to the toilet in the dark before going out hunting, his buddy Paul who was in on the joke put us on to that, and the next morning we watched Cliff leave for the toilet and we gave him a minute or so to get comfortable then i gave the line a yank!! A pause..then i gave it a few more yanks...then we heard.. F... Off...followed by a very loud F... OFFFF. we could see his flashlight beam probing the bush, then we heard.." you rotten bastards!!" Someone hollered.."kick box him Cliff!!"

You make your fun where you find it!! Sandy

Cliff's revenge.

My brother..Bill, kept a fishing rod propped up on the creek bank with a baited hook in the water. A couple of days later after the evening hunt we were all sitting around camp after dark when Cliff shouts.."Bill, i just saw your rod move, i think you have a fish on!" So Bill jumps up and reels in the slack and gives the rod a yank to set the hook...then followed the most incredible pryotechnic show ever seen in the north woods...i mean it was a jaw dropping awsome firework display. Cliff was an electrician with his own business. Of course he had set Bill's rod to trigger the works. To say we were amazed and impressed was to put it mildly!! Sandy

I went deer hunting in northern NH with a friend and his friend, his cousin, and cousin's friend. We rented a cabin for a week and when we arrived at the cabin one of the guys says Hey, is that a bat on the ceiling? Sure enough there was a bat hanging from a rafter in the main room. My friend doesn't want to get bitten in the night so he says I'm going to shoot it. He has a 30-06 and was smart enough to know that wasn't the solution so he looks around at everyone and the first two say 30-06 then his friend says 30-30 so he looks over at me and I say 357 mag (carbine) and he smiles and says get it! Well it took everything I had to convince him a 140gr HP at 2000fps also was not the solution. So he calls the manager or owner (this was one of a bunch of cabins on a lake) and tells him there's a bat in the cabin. A few minutes later he shows up with one of those old Daisy one pump BB guns, takes careful aim and shoots the bat which promptly fell to the floor and didn't even twitch. You could hear the BB rolling around on the floor across the room and when it stopped the guy walked over, picked it up, and loaded it back into the gun. He went off never saying a word. Somehow I could tell he and that BB had done this before. My friend slept soundly and I'm glad we didn't have to pay to repair the roof.

One of the kids I grew up with came from a non hunting family and took up archery with us kids. Then as we got into bowhunting he came along. We tried desperately to get him a shot. If we pushed a deer past him he would be sitting down with bow hanging in a tree out of reach. If he was standing bow would be laying on the ground. We finally put him behind a multi flora rose fence row with one small opening and told him to stand with bow in hand. We pushed a herd of deer his way and all we heard was screaming. The first deer took a odd angle as it jumped the briar fence towards the opening and landed on his foot. Tore the toe portion of his felt packs off and really bruised his foot.... no shooting. (They were those cheap nylon snowmobile boot packs in the 70's.)

Another time up in the southern end of that zone a couple of fellows from our club were walking out the logging road towards camp when they saw the lights of an approaching vehicle..the game warden? As it was near dark and as you are supposed to have your firearm ,including bows encased after legal hours, one of them by the name of Graham , panicked and threw his bow in the bushes. Later when he went back with a flashlight he couldn't find it. It cost him his morning hunt next day and it took him a lot of searching before he finally found it. Graham is still known by the title of.." Chief chuck a bow!" It turned out it wasn't the game wardens at all!! Sandy

Another time up in the southern end of that zone a couple of fellows from our club were walking out the logging road towards camp when they saw the lights of an approaching vehicle..the game warden? As it was near dark and as you are supposed to have your firearm ,including bows encased after legal hours, one of them by the name of Graham , panicked and threw his bow in the bushes. Later when he went back with a flashlight he couldn't find it. It cost him his morning hunt next day and it took him a lot of searching before he finally found it. Graham is still known by the title of.." Chief chuck a bow!" It turned out it wasn't the game wardens at all!! Sandy

My 2 cents,

We have close-nit group of guys from Vermont/Western Mass rifle hunting in Northern Maine. Milt is a hard-hunting outdoorsmen, Type "A" personality with lots of drive. This is a guy who loves to collect keepsakes and little items he finds as reminders of his past hunts. Milt always seems to find him self in strange or one-of-a-kind circumstances.

On this one trip he is still-hunting behind an abandoned homestead that has an apple orchard. He is following some good sign and is on high alert when he spots a deer to his right at close range. The rifle comes up, safety off and realizes something is wrong. It seems the spike buck has been dead a good while after being stuck in the crotch of a split-trunk tree! He figures that buck landed there while escaping danger and died of thirst/hunger. Milt decides he wants a trophy to remember this event. Not having a camera, or a saw he uses a thick branch to lop off one of the spikes. It takes him several attempts. Finally he manages to break off a spike but looses sight of it on the leaf-littered forest floor. He ends up on his hands and knees before he locates the keepsake. Later he thinks how dangerous it was to be down on all fours near a vertical buck stuck in the tree near by. I can't suppress laughter when I think of Milt (the seasoned outdoorsmen) repeatedly whacking the dead deer with a tree limb!

LaGriz

just copied it off the Internet like that

looks like a beef bone to me

or prehistoric turkey

So, timex, is that story how you got your handle?

naw came from my hart attack doc said only 2 out of 10 survive the hart attack I had. my hart stopped in the er even after so much nitroglycerin my head was ready to bust. doc said my hart was like a TIMEX takes a licken & keeps on ticken

and I should add I'm blessed to still be here & to be able the do the things I love mostly hunt fish & grandkids life is good

I took a friend hare hunting. He was wearing a snowmobile suit with a hood. He had to take a dump and peeled down the suit and went. When he stood up he pulled the hood over his head not realizing that he had just crapped in it. That kind of ended the hunt.

for many years when I was young every Saturday we drove deer bow black power rifle didn't matter & we always met at ottis fathers house (hubbys) well one day we were there at lunch & because so many congregated there they had a porta potty & somebody had the great idea to rock it back & forth when hubby was in there & accidentally turned it over well hubby came out of that thing as mad as iv ever seen a sober man in my life & had he got his hands on his 3030 lever gun he'd have used it...but we finally got him calmed down & well at the time it wasn't so funny but 30 years later it still brings big smiles when brought up

A friend was hunting in Colorado. He was working his way across a sidehill and had to take a dump. He carefully laid his bow and backpack uphill from where he was standing, then squatted to take care of business. When done he stepped back and was getting dressed when he heard a rustle in the leaves. He watched as his new fleece backpack rolled down the hill and through the mess he has just deposited.

Timex.".Takes a licken and keeps on tikken" plus with your gr kids story are the best ones here..good for you.! Sandy

My dad told a story of a time he was out on a surveying crew in 1946-7 Colorado after he was discharged from the army.

He carried a S&W k22 with him, and used it to take small game and birds for dinner while out. One night, his crew was camping out in a trappers cabin. It had a small kitchen counter and bowl for the “ sink”. Pots/ pans and a coffee pot were on the counter.

The was a clatter of noise on the kitchen counter one night ( ie 2am).. it was a raccoon. My dad weary -eyed, grabbed his k22 and fired off 3 shots at the moonlit silhouetted raccoon on the counter. There was more clatter, then silence. My dad proudly told his crew mates “ I got that raccoon. Get back to sleep, we ‘ll take take it in the morning.”

Morning came, and his crew mates were mad. My dad plunked a tight triangle into the percolator coffee pot. No sign of blood from the raccoon.

timex, just wanted to let you know that I was at New River also, maybe about the time your dad and Marine buddies were there, 67- 68. I was with a 53 helicopter squadron HMH-461. Wife and I are also enjoying the stories.

One frigid Tennessee morning, my younger brother packed his rifle, hunting stool, and his coveralls that he had tight rolled like a sleeping bag and secured with a boot lace. He humped it all up about the steepest ridge on the place. When he got to the top, he sat down and placed his warm coveralls on the ground, then watched them miss every tree, sapling, root, and briar as they rolled to the bottom of the ridge.

Murray

A few years ago while in my tent camper I got up at night to take a leak. As was my custom, I kept a glass of water on a shelf and took a deep drink, then went back to bed. The glass was a transulcent tumbler. While turning off the light, it passed over the glass. I thought "that looks strange", got up, and looked at the glass closely. There was a drowned mouse in it. I brushed my teeth religously and hoped for the best.

One of the old camp standbys is the rubber bat on a length of monofilament tied to the inside of a cupboard door. A good way to indoctrinate the new guy in camp...you just need to find out what he craves after dinner, and tell him you think there's some chocolate, whiskey, whatever on the top shelf up in that cupboard. Before you know it, he's got Mr. Bat flopping right down into his eager face. Crude, but delightful.

Some years ago one of my buds got lost while we were bow hunting. We were hunting big woods and went in before daylight. using my compass I came back out at the truck with in a hundred yards or so and waited for him for several hours, blowing the truck horn to give him a direction to come out. Back in camp, I had a new Silva compass and tried to show my buddy how to set it before going in the woods. He said he understood. Next morning we went in from the road, next to a giant cut-over and parted at the back side of the cut-over. Two hour after our meeting time I heard him in the cut-over with his stand and bow, finally he made it to the road and I asked him "what the hell happened" and he told me the compass was broken. OK......show me. He held the compass with the arrow pointing due north, and he said "look it's pointing north", then he rotated the compass 180 degrees and said "now it is pointing south"

James

I wish I had some hysterical stories about my buddy with the completely useless sense of direction who was always getting “turned around” out there, but I don’t have a one...

Which is always puzzling to me, because everybody I’ve ever hunted or fished or camped with seems to have a barrel-full....

What are the odds?

We were sitting in the cook shack once in bear camp having a few drinks and telling lies. My friend Eric was across the room and after I said something to him he replied, "Hold on a minute Dave. I do not have my glasses on and I could not hear you". Okay so maybe Eric had more than a few drinks, eh.

DDave

I told this story to a couple guys on here via PM because they mentioned owning the same Johnson wool backpack but guess I'll add it here too (since it's such a fine pack). One night up in the cabin I left a bag of trail mix in the back outside pocket of the backpack. In the morning there was a hole chewed through it and I was pissed! Later when I went to put on my Muck boots that were across the room there was a pile of peanuts in one...and the mouse. That was the last of his backpack chewing/peanut stealing days!

to add to your mouse story

stayed with a guy in a trailer (hunting cabin) with him and his girlfriend- He was addicted to M&Ms Had the biggest bag I ever saw

next morning about all were gone and he was raising hell as to who stole his M& M's

later that orning she was cooking breakfast on the gas stove and soething was running out of the stove and down the side

it was melted chocolate

lifted the top up and a ouse had transported the M&M's under the stove top

Aldo had a Blind cat at home and I kept his crunchy bowel next to the stove so he would find then

one day pulled the bottom oven drawer out to clean under and a mouse had a giant pyrmid of crunchies stored under there -guess he was eating with the Blind cat at night

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