Whenever two hunters or more get together over a few beers, around a campfire or after a feed in the hunting cabin stories are told of past hunts, great shots and humourous hunting experiences. In that spirit I thought this might make for a fun thread. Since I suggested it I'll go first.

The Great Winter Rat Hunt

Every year I put out several bird feeders in my backyard and stock them in late fall until well into the spring. Jays particularly like sunflower seeds and I go through 50 lbs over the winter.

Now my house is right in the city. A small brook that used to run behind my place has been covered over with the exit several miles down hill in a river that runs through a park. I believe this is where the rats came from and when they discovered the sunflowers seeds under the bird feeders they must have thought they were in rat heaven.

That winter was one marked by heavy snow and there was several feet built up under the bird feeders. The rats had tunnels in the snow and every night they would come out and feast on the seeds scattered by the birds. I don't like rats but wasn't too concerned until I made the mistake of mentioning their presence to the dear wife. The scene wasn't pretty but in the end it came down to the bird feeders had to go unless I did something about the rats.

I tried traps but the rats ignored them and after catching two little birds I decided a more active solution was needed. Now the problem is that the city has an bylaw concerning the discharge of firearms, even pellet guns. I knew I could shoot them with my 22 but how to do so without attracting attention was the key issue. Even 22 shorts make a crack when fired in the cold winter air.

I went to the local guns shop and bought some CCI 22 pest shots. They have a little blue thin plastic tip and are filled with #8-9 shot. Next I set up my 6 foot step ladder in the middle of the spare bedroom. With the bedroom door closed, the window wide open, the heat off, wearing a parka and gloves I waited from 0200 for an hour standing on that stepladder. Sure enough out came a rat from underneath my shed, heading for the sunflower seeds. Now my 22 is a semi-auto Mossberg of so ancient manufacture that it doesn't even have a serial number. Part of the fore stock is missing and it's accuracy is not very good but with shot shells at about 35 feet I figured it would do. So I pulled out the crossbolt safety and took aim with the cheap scope that had no name. Suddenly another rat appeared from a tunnel in the snow. The first rat immediately charged and the two rats disappeared down the tunnel. Seconds later one appeared from another opening and went under the shed at flank speed only to appear again closely followed by I assume the first rat and down the tunnel they both went again only to appear again at yet another opening in the snow.

Now balancing for an hour in a cold room in the wee hours doesn't do much for a person's patience. My Mossburg has a tubular mag that feeds from the butt stock and holds 14 LR rounds. I had 10 of those little shot shells in the mag and when the rats next appeared I let loose. When a rat is hit he often jumps up in the air and I swear both of them went three feet up and hit the snow running. Both went under the shed. My rifle was empty, the wife was hollering a streak of oathes, (I hadn't told her that I was going to shoot them from the bedroom at 3 am) and the neighbour's outside light came on. I quietly closed the window, folded up the step ladder and put the 22 back in the gun cabinet. After I quieted down the wife I lay there in bed wondering if I had got the two rats. I never did find out but we weren't bothered by rats again that year. The next year I gave away my feeders.

Oh, I almost forgot. A few days later, I was blowing the snow from yet another storm when my neighbour came over for a chat. "Mac" he said. "The other night did you hear something wierd in the middle of the night?" "Not me" I said I. "I sleep like a log." "Oh" he replied. "Seen any rats lately."

Every year Beacher my brother in law would borrow a rifle and we would go to his family's property and deer hunt I have tried out several rifles on Beacher trying to find a rifle that was as user friendly as possible. Beacher is not a "Gun Guy" as he freely admits. one year I bought a rifle just for the purpose of loaning it to Beacher. It was a Steyr s.b.s that came by used. it had a removable magazine and very easy , basic controls. Where we hunt we both face down a 125 yard long ravine from opposite sides but both pointin pretty much west early opening day a small group of 5 or 6 spilled over the edge and walked down the length where they stopped about 50 yards from us I picked out the buck and watched him because I wanted to watch Beacher drop him. nothing happened for about 60 seconds so I looked back at Beacher to see if he noticed them or was asleep. He was fooling with his gun. so I watched him a little longer to see what he was doing He hadn't put the magazine in his gun and one by one he was attempting to put a cartridge in the chamber with a gloved hand one by one they fell all the way through where the magazine should have been to hide in the leaves below. After I counted 5 shells dropping to their doom I shot the buck because that was all he had. I almost couldn't shoot I was laughing so hard. When I got down to the downed buck I asked him why he didn't just insert the mag and cycle the action. He said he thought that would have made too much noise.

When I was stationed at 15 Wing Fire Department Moose Jaw Saskatchewan, home of the 431st Air Demonstration Team (more commonly known as the SnowBirds) my immediate supervisor Murray C. had talked to me about deer hunting and I gave him a place where he could go and have almost 100% guaranteed success. So he took a days leave and he went to the place I had told him about. Now the place was southeast of the base and there is a major highway #2 runs along the east side of the main runway. Now, I'll recount the conversation that I had with one of the ATC guys on duty. The flying was light that afternoon and the controller was looking around the airfield with the binos and saw a blue van make a sudden stop on the highway and Murray C. exits the drivers door, runs to the back of the van opens the hatch and has something in his hand and he is stabbing something in the back of the van. The fight is over in less than two minutes and Murray closes the hatch and is jumping around and appears to be swearing and he is covered in red. He gets back into the van and drives up the quarter mile to the base entrance and goes to his PMQ. It is about 1500hrs. Murray calls the fire hall to find out if we know anywhere in town where he can get his van detailed immediately. No such luck in Moose Jaw. We ask why he needs to have the van cleaned so soon and he says that he went hunting where I had told him. It was rifle season. He said that he saw this nice doe and he took his shot and hit her and she went down. Good enough. He said that when he got to her, that he couldn't see any blood except for a tiny spot of missing hair on her head, so he loaded her up into his van. He was driving home to the base and was going to come to the fire hall to show us his deer and as he was driving down the highway he looked into his rear view mirror and saw something looking back at him. It was the doe. He hadn't bleed her. So he got stopped and grabbed his hunting knife and fought with her in the back of the van and finally killed her. He needed to get the van cleaned so that his wife (a tiny tiny french Canadian gal who RULES the roost) wouldn't find out. We suggestted that he go over to the housing section and borrow a carpet shampooer and come to the fire hall and wash his van out. And yes she found out. You can't keep a secret anywhere on a base as Vince can tell you.

A few years ago, during rifle season, my brother-in-law invited a friend to hunt with us. Mario wasn't a hunter, but after hearing all our stories, he decided to give it a try. He went out and bought all the necessary gear (even though we told him we could set him up. He was sure he was gonna love it) Including a brand new Remington autoloader in 30-06. Mario is 6'2", weighs 225 lbs, and looks like he was cut from a Granite block. He operates heavy equipment, a tough construction guy. The first Morning, I walked him to a stand that was down in a bowl. I got him there about an hour before sunrise, so I could get to my stand, and things could quiet down before the sun came up. I walked to my stand, and had just settled in when I heard 4 quick shots, a pause of like 3 minutes, and 4 more quick shots. It has to be Mario! Now, I have to go back and check on him, because the sun wasn't up yet and he's fired 8 shots. I got about half way back to his stand when I hear him crashing through the woods like Sasquatch. I yelled to him, and he ran over in a panick, and this is the story he told me: " Bob, a couple minute after you left me I could hear growling, and panting, like a wolf was chasing something close by. Then I could hear a couple more, and before you knew it I was surrounded. I shot at the ones in front, reloaded, and shot at the ones behind, so I could get out of there". I almost fell down laughing. I told him that it was probably a couple coyotes, since there hasn't been a wolf in New York in a hundred years. to see his terrified look, like he faced the hounds of hell was more than I could bear with a straight face. I brought him back to the cabin, and my brother-in-law was just getting back. I let Mario tell him his story, and it was even funnier the second time around. Mario still hunts, and even laughs about his "Debut" which we remind him of every opening day.

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Oh, FN, I did the "no mag" thingy Friday last...sitting at the bench after cease fire I kept stuffing a round in Kabong and going WTF on plink plink! two round son the bench and...oh, right the mag! Duh!

These stories are priceless boys- I was having a ROTTEN day till now...good stuff!

I'll admit being part of this but not the instigator.
Old Harris Creek Forestry hut in the Tararua ranges in the North Island. These were pretty basic open fire about 3 meters by 4 meters 2 double bunks and a rough sawn table near the door which in this hut was non existant - used to fuel fire by persons unknown.

We'd walked in about 3 hours in the evening and settled in for the night. Had a feed got settled into our sleeping bags and were just about asleep when my mate leaps up screaming.......F ing Rats!

I flicked on my torch and sure enough there was a big rat on the floor near the open door looking at us. He wasn't scared and had already nibbled a hole in mates pack. (you already know how much I loath rats).
Mate slowly reaches over and grabs his rifle - SMLE .303 and loads it while I held the light on the rat. BANG deafening silence, smoke and cordite, then I shone my torch to where said rodent had been - Nothing....but a rather large hole and tiny bits of splatter everywhere; including up the walls, all over our food and gear. It took us about 2 hours the next morning to clean all the mess up, and about 2 days for our hearing to get back to normal.
Moral of story - carry rat poison and don't try to use deer size rifles on rats!

Yer lucky you got any hearing back!

Bushy shoots holes in his barn chasing a rat....over and over and....HEEHAWBUWAHAHAHA!

ok I will repeat the rat trap. kero tin or similar 20-40 ltrs steel sides 3/4 fill with water then add thin layer of fat. put it where rats can climb in. once in the fat breaks and no getting out for ol whiskers. its safe to have around the section the worst that will happen is the kids playn in it or the dog drinking it.
last weekend my buddy and I took rifles for a walk, lots of deer sign so we spilt up to stalk both sides of a ridge. I arsed up nearly breaking my ribs but my buddy went one better he tripped up fell down a 4 mtr bank and landed right beside a pigs nest. needless to say both mumma pigs and all the little squeelers took off with a huge fright while my buddy picked himself up. gee I wish I could have seen it.

Ok here is one for ya' from SWIowa. My cousin and I were pheasant/quail hunting in a VERY large field of what we call "Broame grass" it is basically wild prarie type grass. This place was about two sections(a section is one mile by one mile) put together. We were taking a bit of a break sitting in a terrace and watching a few deer with a couple of "basket bucks" running in the mix. And all of the sudden he kind of gets this uncomfortable look on his face and cocks his head to one side and stands up and starts to do the "shimey dance" I am watching this thinking what in the heck is going on??? I see a little dark colored blob fall out from his right cuff. I said to him WHAT was that?? He says DAMN MOUSE!!!! HA HA HA!!!!! It had climbed up the left sleeve and went across his back and down the right sleeve!!!! It took me about fifteen minutes to stop laughing so we could finish hunting the set aside pasture.

Then in July of about 1995 or maybe 1996 I went up to visit him in Togiak, AK and to go salmon fishing with him on thew Togiak River. We pulled in some really nice fish!!!!! When i got there i heard this story of the 51 pound King he got the week before. It gave him a really hard fight and he finally got it to the "boat" and decided this is IT! And pulled out his HK USP and in his words "double-tapped him; one to the head and one to the gills"

We were on the bank of the river and I happen to look down into the water and see what appears to be a .40S&W case(same as his USP!!) I look at it a bit closer turned to my cousin and said Hey where did you shoot that fish?? He looks around and says Right about here I think. I said I thought so reached down in to the water and pulled out the case and and said Here is one of your cases. THAT WAS STRANGE!!!!!!

I heard he later was camping out on a bear hunt and got his ear chewed on by a shrew! HAHAHA!!!!! The guy just draws rodents I guess?!! HAHAHAH! Those are stories that last forever in a guys mind.

Where I live, we have a raccoon problem so I shoot them whenever they're in rifle range of my house. A few weeks ago, I was up about 2 AM for a drink of water and out the back window saw a raccoon under a tree. I quickly ascended the stairs to my office and got out the 204 Ruger and opened the skylight from which I've shot groundhogs before but was unable to get a good angle on the 'coon.

I then opened the end window and waited. Sure enough, the raccoon finally came ambling by. I centered the crosshairs on it's chest and fired. The raccoon was dead right there.

I have at various times shot stuff during the night even with a braked centerfire handgun and up until that time my wife, a.k.a. Sweetsums, had blissfully slept through it all but I had never shot anything from that particular window during the night. Our burglar alarm detects glass breakage and the rattle of the downstairs window must have seemed like glass breakage because he burglar alarm went off.

Sweetsums was quite excited for a time.

Onna hunt with Pop once when I was a yunker, not much bigger than in my pic to the left. Crossing a feild, size midget cowboy boot (I HAD to wear those everywhere ya know) got stuck in a muddy furrow. SCHLLLLOOOP! Off it comes and man's it deep. Ol' man told me not to wear them things.

So I finished the hunt missing some footwear- but, I'd get tired of limping and yankin' stickers and not what's, so the ol' man ended up carrying me, then, putting me down me when something flushed, take a shot, rinse and repeat.

He didn't score, neither did I and I never saw that boot again. Yeh, I sorta ruined his hunt but hey man- I lost a boot, WTH's he so sore about!?

Mom told me he slept almost all the next day he was so worn out carrying me around. A single cowboy boot or boot related jokes are an inside thing between me and sis now...funny stuff get's started and ended with same.

Back in 1978 deer hunting up in Rhinelander Wi for the 9 day gun season we had just set up our 8' by 14' army tent that also had a stove to keep us warm during the winter Wi nights. We also had a portable "Latrine" that consisted of 2' hole wide dug 3' deep as there was no bathrooms within 20 miles of where we stayed.

We always had our Turkey dinner inside the tent every year with all the trimmings you could think of, including beer, bourbon, whiskey. Fast forward to the wee hours of the following morning when we were all awakened by the sound of gunfire, all of us jumped up to hear our fearless leader yelling for help.

We all ran outside and turned on the flash lights to see our fearless leader stuck in the hole of the latrine. He always carried a sidearm with him and fortunately when dropping his drawers he was able to
reach for it because yelling didn't wake us up.

Apparently when he stumbled out to use the Latrine, he kicked away the stool and basically fell into the hole and got stuck, everyone of us busted a gut laughing and he fired the gun one more time to bring us to our senses and help him out. After getting him out of the hole he headed down to a small crick to clean up. To this day his son and I bring this up everytime we deer hunt.

HOLE-EEE-S***! (get it ?)

That's awesome! Hahahahahaha!!!! Great visuals...cant stop laughing!

Stovie that story of yours sure brings memories back. Its amazing how things that are little at the time stick and get brought up for years. Afew years ago I took my daughter for a hunt we stayed up on the tops with little water so made good time getting down the next day, struggling down through steep beech forest I look down and spy a deer just below us I lined it up for a shoulder shot when a big velvet antler came out from behind the tree so I didnt shoot. now years later my Wife STILL gives me grief about "pretty antlers" every chance she gets.

I took my son out to look for walabies carrying him in a backpack as he was only little was great but pushing up through the gorse was not. he was fine behind me with only his shins exposed I coped the lot. with all the oows coming from him he got nicknamed "gorse prickle" it has stuck its a Dad thing I guess.

Too many moons ago, two young fellas going camping on friday after work, had everything packed and ready, then off on the trip for four hours, and arrived after dark. Set up camp by the light of the moon and stars, some idiot forgot the gas lantern (me) . Right now for a quick feed then off to bed for an early start in the morning.
"What to eat ? HMMM Just get some tinned stuff and chuck it all in the billy and have friday night stew."
After making the stew and putting it to keep warm on the rocks around the fire pit, time for the beer to start flowing.
"Want another beer" asks my mate. "OK"
Up jumps the offender and instead of going around the fire pit, decides to go over, as his size 27 boots clear the firepit, one toe manages to hit the handle of the billy and knock said friday night swet over, spilling some.
"Dont worry just scrape it off the grass, its nice and clean"
More beers flow then lets get into this stew and off to bed,

Next morning after returning to camp from an early morning rabbit hunt, there by the firepit with friday night stew bits left on it is a nice fresh cow splatter, You know the ones that spread out to about 3/4 inch thick and grey on top, but still green in the middle.

The best thing was the spoon scrape through the middle all the way through the 3/4 inch thick green middle.