X100, some pretty dangerous ones over the years on THF, lots with junior hunters even worse. I refrain from taking kill pics with my weapon of killing, purely for safety reasons only. The animal is dead and I don't need to show the weapon of death in my pics. If I am asked to take pics of other hunters with kill, the gun is held in one of hunter's two hands and pointed 90 degrees skyward with other hand free to place on animal or hold rack; no two hands free and gun laying on animal's neck, side, back or legs, regardless of direction muzzle pointed in. Hunter requires two free hands in pic, then back to no gun being in pic. Call me safety anal or whatever, but only takes that one time to ruin a good day, year or life!

Taking the 5th

Several of us were shooting handguns at longer distances. I had just lightened up the trigger (too far) on this particular GP100 and had an AD as I adjusted my grip - and accidentally hit the target 2.5" off of the bullseye. I fessed up and got laughed at big time because that was my best for the day.

Probably reporting some poachers. Long story short they did nothing about it, besides waste a lot of my time and energy.

I was hunting a monster buck I had on camera. Took off work and told my wife I’m sitting all day and I’m going to kill him. Sitting all day is a huge accomplishment for my hyperactive ADD tail . Finally about 5:00 he came out and was looking right at me in the stand. I eased the ole .270 up while still leaning back in my chair and softly set it down in the window while never taking my eyes off the buck. I aim, squeeze, KABOOM, it was like someone had thrown a grenade in my stand. Wood shrapnel floating around, I was deafened by the blast…… turned out I set my muzzle on the 2x2 board that ran a few inches below the window and blew a hole in my stand. Cussed the whole way home and didn’t hunt for several days bc I knew he wouldn’t be back but he was on camera sitting under the feeder the next morning at 7:30. Never saw him again. He still haunts my dreams.

I graduated High school with Kevin Boykin

Walking back to the house after hunting decided to cross the electric fence rather than walk a couple of hundred yard more to go through gate,
Grasping the gun by the barrel and fore stock pushed the wire down and stepped over the wire can still to this day see the spark when the wire slipped off the butt stock and hit the trigger guard.
The wire arced and shot to my hand.
I flung the rifle like a hot Potatoe as the wire sprang up and hit me right in the must in touch it.
I landed 15 feet from the hot wire unable to catch my breath.

A hunter from this very forum came out to shoot a doe and left this present for us and never paid for it either. Interesting sound though for sure

Got drawn for my first elk hunt in New Mexico, bought a new Ruger 300 win mag. Left early in the morning and had driven 3 hours. Suddenly I realized that I had forgotten that new gun sitting right by the kitchen door! Called my cousin in New Mexico to tell what had happened, luckily he had just bought a new Browning 30-06 with new scope, so he said to just come on, we can sight in the gun when I got there!

Got to camp in time to sight in and wait for the next morning. Get up the next morning to 8" of snow and no way to get out and hunt until noon! Didn't see any elk for 3 days. On leaving to go back to the house, we see a giant bull standing in the rodeo grounds at Reserve!

Most expensive mistake was driving a 2-wheel drive suburban into a sandy river bottom to retrieve a buck versus just dragging it a couple hundred yards to the road. Getting a tow truck into a lease in the middle of no-where to recover that chevy was not cheap.

But stupidest was setting up a tri-pod on a soft river bank over looking a bluff and skipping the tie downs because it "seemed" plenty stabile. Nothing will pucker your butt like riding a 12ft tripod to the ground then rolling to the rivers edge while trying to softly throw your rifle into a cedar tree. To compound things I was hunting solo that weekend and had zero cell service.

I went to check my camera and discovered that I had a monster of a hog coming to the feeder, this guy was a beast. And I wanted to get to him before he moved on. So, I was going to hunt him the next morning.
That night it rained pretty good. When I got to the ranch it was flooded, there was no way to get to the feeder that was maybe 400-500 yards away. As I made the effort to get up early and drive out, I would just walk in.
Sure enough that big dude walked out at first light and down he went. I could not believe the size of this pig, he was the perfect wall mount pig. He was spotted and looked like a linebacker. Then it hit me, how in the heck do I get this guy back to the truck? After a bit I decided that the picture was good enough and I would have another chance a mountable pig someday.
I went back two days later when it had dried up enough to drive to the feeder, I decided to settle on a Euro mount. Buzzards and coyotes had scattered that pig so far and in so many pieces that I never found a single piece of the skull or jaw.
I have killed probably 500 pigs since and never a cool looking pig like that guy.

I have killed a lot of pigs in my life, but to this day the biggest boar I've ever killed I shot with a bow when I was 18 yrs old in the middle of Summer during the heat of the day. This was not a "true" feral pig. He was a big Blue Butt Boar that the neighbors turned loose and he started running with a sounder of beach pigs. I stalked him on my knees in that cat claw acasia with only one arrow, very slowly. I shot him in the heart at 7 yrds and he came straight at me. I dropped my bow and tore through that stuff with him on my tail and got ALL cut up by the briars, but he only chased me for 30 or 40 yrds before he crashed dead with a thump. I drove a 4x4 Chevy Luv pickup and it was just me and my soon to be young wife that was at her Aunt's place. That boar was somewhere between 400 & 450 lbs, and getting him into the truck was a big learning experience for me by myself lol. I about killed myself a few times with my 175lb 18 yr old azz trying to load him.

I pulled up a few old picks. The kid in the blue & white shirt was my best friend. It took a while but I finally got him into hunting & fishing.... RIP. Anyway, don't shoot a big pig in the Summer unless you are prepared to deal with him. My eyes have always been bigger than my stomach though....I was up all night cleaning him, took a shower and worked a 12 hr shift pulling cable in the rack with no sleep.

I bought my first new vertical smoker though and man.....12-14 hrs cook time on those hams and they were stupid good. Fed my family for weeks.






I miss 1995.

i lost a brand new remington 700 stainless 7mm mag with a leupold scope on it, in a fluorescent orange soft case. came in from the morning hunt, put it in its case, and laid it on the back of my flatbed. decided to make a beer run and forgot it back there. sure was looking for it thinking my buddies hid it from me for about a hour before the evening hunt when it hit me i left it back there.
dont know if it fell off on the highway or it got picked upoff the back while i was in town, but its gone!

When I was 15 or so in high school a friend of mine invited me to go turkey hunting at a place that belonged to a friend of his grandads. I had never been turkey hunting before. We get all geared up and he and I drive to this guys place (who was out of town) to hunt and get there at least an hour before sunrise. There was a full moon and decent light. We park and sneak our way in the dark towards behind the owners house where he said he often saw turkeys. All of a sudden my buddy says stop I see one. I couldn’t really see anything because it was still dark and before I ever did see anything my buddy shot and yells I got him. We walk over and discover that he shot the owner’s prized peacock. Needless to say we were not invited back again. After that incident I decided it was best not to go hunting with that kid again either.

this thread is amusing ... I have several by others I can put in here when I have a few minutes.

for me, one of those moments comes to mind, I think I have stated here somewhere before. I had a lease in northern Burnet county with Mesquite creek running thru the middle. I had several tripod stands on the east side of the creek that overlooked a ~15 acre field that I plowed/planted a big food plot, with feeders along the far tree line. One early morning I get there and park, cross the creek that had an inch or so trickle, up 100 yards or so to the nearest tripod and climb up. The forecast was for some heavy rains including downpours, but I went prepared in full rain gear. As daylight starts to break, it starts raining, and continued quite heavy for the next several hours. A big 8 point came out of the cedars on the far side near a feeder and started to graze towards it. It was raining so hard, I could barely see him thru my scope but took my time until there was a little break in the rain to get a clear shot. Bang, Flop. I waited a few minutes then went over to him. Knowing I wouldn't be able to drive across the creek, I field dressed him and started dragging. By the time I got back across the field, I had about 10 pounds of mud on both feet. I made it down to the creek to find a roaring river from all the upstream rain. I figured I could easily cross it but to just use caution as it was close to knee deep and rolling pretty good. So I shoulder my rifle and get a good grip, and I wade off into the creek. Slow and steady, one step at a time. All was going good until the current caught the deer and rolled it over to where the gut cavity became a parachute and the deer washed downstream. Thankfully I had a good hold on the antlers and continued to cross, one slow step at a time while hanging on for dear life. I finally made it the 30+ feet across to the other side but I was winded pretty good for the strain/struggle of maintaining my balance while hanging onto my deer. By this time, the phrase "turn around, don't drown" was visible imprinted into my mind. Thankfully this was in my younger years but again, I am smarter now to just wait a few hours for the runoff to go down.

I was sighting in my muzzleloader and was a little late arriving to the range. They told me they closed in an hour and so I hurried to a bench, waited on the cease fire and hung my target. I shot 3 rounds, adjusted my sights and shot 3 more at 25 yards. Then moved to 50 yards. I checked my watch and my hour was about up. So, I increased my pace loading powder and bullet and got everything seated in the chamber. I grabbed my shooting bags and a primer thinking if I can just get a couple more rounds downrange I would finish with time to spare. As I got settled on target and took a few breaths, I squeezed. The next thing I know is I'm on my butt on the ground, ears ringing, shoulder hurting, barely still holding the gun. At first I wasn't sure what happened and then looking at the rifle I realized I hadn't taken the ramrod out of the barrel after seating the round. From the bench I looked and looked then through my binos I noticed the target had about a foot long gash, upper left on the paper. The rod was bent and ruined but thank goodness everything else and me was ok.

25 years ago we had an older guy named Joe on the lease that cooked breakfast every morning after the hunt. Eggs, sausage, biscuits and cream gravy. He insisted that we eat and refused our offer of money. When it came time for us to go home he’d ask when we were coming back so he’d know how much food to bring for breakfast. Found out he was letting people not on the lease come down and hunt our stands when we were gone.

Also he had a key to our trailer. I made a last minute trip one Friday and pulled up to the trailer around midnight. Some dude with his pants half off and a young woman who was barely covered up came running out of the trailer and as they ran to his truck he was saying “ I’m sorry man, Joe said it was alright”.

Sooooo the worst, dumbest thing I ever did was tell someone when I’d be coming back hunting.

I about lost a big toe due to complacency and my stupidity. I was prepping dinner one night in my kitchen at the ranch (bacon wrapping some poppers). I heard some hogs squealing out back through the open window, so I stopped what I was doing and grabbed my Henry big boy .44 lever gun. I went out back onto the concrete patio and was cocking the hammer before I shouldered the gun. Somehow, my greasy fingers slipped, and I pulled the trigger while holding the gun, barrel pointed down. BOOM!!! My legs got peppered with concrete chunks and my ears were ringing. I looked down, there was a big chunk of cement missing about 2 inches in front of my left foot.

I had a full-blown panic attack. I couldn't believe what I had done. I am very careful with guns and this one time my head wasn't in it, I was thinking about cooking, not gun safety and I almost paid dearly for it. I never fired that gun again. I ended up trading it off.

I never repaired the concrete. I left it to remind myself how a dumb moment can change the course of everything.

I am not very proud of this story, frankly I'm embarrassed by it, but I wanted to share it so everyone knows how fast and easy a loss of situational awareness can hurt you.

John.

We had same thing in south Texas. Ranch hand that was taking care of the place was selling weekday day hunts.

So out of curiosity.. How does peacock taste?

Many moons ago, a buddy and I were cruising around our deer lease, just jackin around. I said, id like to shoot my.243, cuz I haven't shot it in a while.
So we pull over, on the dirt road, I grab a piece of cardboard and we go nail it to a tree, 50 yards away. I grab my gun and lay across my hood, with nothing but my hand, under the stock.
I get lined up and pull the trigger, BOOM,,,,,,seemed a bit louder, than I remember, but didn't think much of it. We walked over to the target and nothing, didn't even hit the cardboard.
Get back to my truck and notice that, I had shot a hole in my hood. So ya, apparently my scope , didn't notice my gun barrel pointing at my hood.

Much more common than people realize.

I have a new entry, kind of minor, but still felt like an idjit. Now, as I have mentioned Dad passed in 22 and left my brother and I a pile of shooters. Among which were a couple of Thompson Contenders, one in .44 mag and one in .41 mag, (he bought the .41 to help a friend who needed cash).
So my mother was having a baby shower for my daughter ( finally gonna be a pawpaw😁), after about 10 minutes of that I grabbed my son-in-law and went to the farm. Since he didn’t bring a rifle, I mean who would to a baby shower, I let him have mine and grabbed the .41 mag TC……or so I thought.
Apparently, when my dad had shoulder surgery, and couldn’t shoot a rifle he bought a :223 barrel for it. So here I am in my deer stand trying to stuff a .41 into a .223.
Luckily my brother is a big AR guy, and had a couple boxes in his truck, so it wasn’t a totally wasted day, and my son in law got a big fat old doe.