Hunting Stories

Discussion in 'HUNTING' started by Gunsmoke, Mar 2, 2007.

  1. Gunsmoke

    Gunsmoke Guest

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    One of my most memorable experiences was a five day hunting trip in Star County, TX. There was seven fired up guys going to a ranch that as far as anyone knew, had never been hunted. All of us were single and in our low twenties. The ranch was 27,000 acres and had no place for us to sleep. The only improvements on the ranch was a single room bunkhouse with a separate cookhouse for the non English speaking ranch hands.

    We knew all this ahead of time so we rented a Winnabaggo which contained the map and directions to the ranch which none of us had ever set foot on. The rolling motel was followed by 3 pickups of which two were pulling utility trailers full of corn and coolers. Drinking and driving was common place at that time. After hours of loading up food, beer, ice, and whiskey, we were off to kill the trophy of a lifetime.

    Since we had a 5 hour drive, we all agreed to go nonstop and refuel in Rio Grande City. In those days, we all packed a one gallon piss jug. You'd just sit back high in the seat and unload in your jug. Normally we didn't travel that far, and the jugs were all full about half way to Rio Grande City. I was in a pickup with another guy. We had killed a couple of six packs and were working on our first bottle of scotch when we realized both or our gallon piss jugs were full. The only choice we had was to use the empty beer cans.

    Have you ever tried peeing in that little hole while driving in the dark? I forgot to add that we had HUGE bladders at that time of our lives. One can was not enough. Asking a friend to hold onto your freshly warmed urine beer can while you scramble for another empty can cause spillage or total loss in the truck. By the time we hit Rio Grande City to refuel the truck was a liquid mess. When I opened my door, a river of once filtered beer and scotch flowed onto the concrete. It turned out the other two pickups had the same or worse problems.

    I knew something was wrong when I saw one guys standing there wearing no shirt. He had tossed his cookies on the dash which stopped up the defogger vents. Apparently while looking for a napkin he chucked out another load hitting a bullseye inside the glove compartment. He used his shirt to try and clean up the mess. The whole inside windshield of the passenger side was smeared puke.

    The group decided to make a quick stop in Mexico before finding the ranch. Big mistake. The only port of entry we could find had a little barge which you pulled yourself across the border with a rope and pulley system. It could only hold a small car so we just pulled ourselves across with a few bottles of whiskey and a cooler of ice. It was deadsville. A little hole in wall town with nothing open. We were starving to death and needed some food real bad. There a ton of chickens running around so caught a few for a quick meal. We quickly learned that starting a fire in the middle of town in a foreign country and eating someone else's chickens tends to piss the locals off. We fled back to the barge and got to the US side and decided to run down towards McAllen to cross the border.

    Somewhere before we hit McAllen, we found another port of entry. For the love of me I can't remember the name. We had all taken bad drunk and our bodies were screaming for food. The only place open was this little off the street Cantina that only served one thing. Avocado with chicken beaks. That's right. Chicken Beaks. That little pink piece of meat that is inside the chickens beak. He had a huge three gallon glass container full of these chicken beaks sitting on the bar. He mixed them up with avocados and fresh lime juice. We ate every beak in the joint and headed off to seek some female companionship.

    Remember now that most of us smelled real bad because of urine spillage. The ladies were happy to see us until they sat in our laps. Women don't like guys that spill pee on themselves. That's a fact. The entertainment was costly because of it. Everybody had been entertained and the sun was rising so we hit a little joint to eat some breakfast before crossing the border. This place had a limited menu. Smoked marlin tacos or oyster tacos. That was better than nothing so we pigged out and wobbled back to the US.

    The story gets better, but it's almost 7PM and I'm still at work. Better get home. I might continue it another time.
     
    iyaman and fathom like this.
  2. TeamOso

    TeamOso Senior Member

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  3. bpitcher

    bpitcher Senior Member

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    Waiting for part two!
     
  4. Bret

    Bret Senior Member

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    Yeah, I enjoyed the first chapter...... cant wait for the rest!!!!
     
  5. MrBill

    MrBill Senior Member

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    Oh my goodness. I was on that trip. You left out the best part of that first night, but I'm glad you didn't post it. That was probably the first time I spent an extended weekend with you. I had only met you a couple of times before that crazy trip.

    In fact, it was my truck that received the vomit in my glove compartment. It smelled for months. I used that compartment to store all my daily receipts. Tax time was difficult that year. Everything was stuck together.
     
  6. gimmedeal

    gimmedeal Senior Member

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    Mr Bill and Gunsmoke, I gather from some of the other posts that you are both senior posters and I am in awe after reading some of these exploits that you made it into your 30's. I think we've all had adventures but you guys have hammered hunting and fishing trips. What's your secret? Between STD's and problems associated with the abuse of alcohol, how are you still breaking rods? I'm amazed and if there's some supplements yall can recommend, lemme know.

    Fred
     
  7. Gunsmoke

    Gunsmoke Guest

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    Gimmedeal,

    I don't think or feel I need supplements. I don't go to doctors, or take any med's. I hope that "senior poster" next to your screen name doesn't mean senior citizen or I'll stop posting. Being middled aged doesn't mean you can't have fun and enjoy life. You only get one shot so live it to your fullest. Your best supplement is to find some friends that feel the same way. It's keeps life interesting.

    Here's day two of this hunting trip.
     
  8. Gunsmoke

    Gunsmoke Guest

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    DAY TWO

    We had a couple of issues once we crossed the border. The guy that was riding with me had been on a diet for 6 months. After he returned to his normal (horrible) eating habits, he developed a bad case of hemorrhoids. He was running out of Preparation H (a toothpaste looking container that you squeeze up your butt to get relief) so we needed to find a drug store. There was no such thing as a cell phone at this time. The other two pickups also needed some headache pills and Pepto Bismol so the pickups went towards McAllen to find a drug store while the Winnabaggo headed back to Rio Grande City. We were to meet up at the same gas station we had spilled all the pee at the evening before.

    By the time we found a drug store and made it back to the gas station in Rio Grande City, a couple of hours had passed. NO Winnabaggo was waiting for us. I went inside after refueling and the attendant told me that the Winnabaggo had been gone for over an hour. Bad News. He had the map and keys to the ranch gate. We had no choice but to drive on and hope we was waiting for us at the gate. We had two road choices. It was a 50/50 chance so we flipped a coin and picked a road.

    I remembered after an earlier discussion that the ranch was around 20 miles from Rio Grande City. So after driving 30 miles we turned around and headed back to the gas station. Still no Winnabaggo. Off we go down the only other road. After driving another 30 miles with no Winnabaggo in site we pulled over at a gate to make a decision. It was already early afternoon and we all felt really bad with no sleep and major hangovers. We pop open some beers and raid the coolers for some munches. The chicken beaks were affecting us real bad. One by one we each left a pile of chicken beak mud at the gate.

    After a few beers I pulled some bolt cutters and cut the chain on the gate to investigate if we were at the right entrance. After a mile or so, I saw this huge compound of houses and barns. We turned around and hauled arse back to the paved road as I knew the ranch we were going to had no improvements. On the way back towards Rio Grande City I popped two more gates only to find improvements on each ranch. That really pisses those rancher's off. One of them wanted to call the sheriff but after watching my friend pull down his pants and load up with Preparation H, he felt sorry for us and backed off. Back to the gas station we go and find the Winnabaggo. Turns out they had a slow leak in one of the front tires and went to get it fixed at some off the road tire joint. While waiting they fell asleep.

    Neither one of them could drive the Winnabaggo at this point because of bad diarrhea attacks. So, "Hemorrhoid Boy" takes over the driving and map reading to get us to our destination. We finally arrive at the real gate after a 40 mile trip and mix a stiff cocktail. We figured since it was prime hunting time to load up and hunt our way in while looking for the ranch hands bunk house. There was a ton of gates and we finally stop. I hear a rifle go off. "Hemorrhoid Boy" says he shot a huge Russian boar that was in the middle of the road. It was near dark and we could all see the black carcass in the road a couple hundred yards ahead. We all mix another big cocktail before gutting the pig. We all hop in the rolling motel that was already smelling of Mexico leftovers and drive up to the carcass.

    Dead on the ground was Angus calf. That's just great. We're all guest and the first kill is one the newest born members of the cattle ranch. I came up with a great idea. Make camp on the spot, start a fire, drink some whiskey, cook some burgers and burn the carcass. So, that's exactly what happened. That night was our first night together in the rolling motel. The tourista was hitting us hard. That poor toilet got a workout that night.
     
  9. MrBill

    MrBill Senior Member

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    Gimmedeal,

    Being middled aged doesn't mean you can't have fun and enjoy life. You only get one shot so live it to your fullest. Your best supplement is to find some friends that feel the same way. It's keeps life interesting.

    .

    AMEN:cool:
     
  10. Gunsmoke

    Gunsmoke Guest

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    DAY THREE

    It was a hard night. All seven of us blowing those Chicken Beaks from both ends. It got worse when about an hour before sunrise someone noticed our fire had spread from the road as the winds had picked up. It had already burned in about 50 feet before we tried to put it out. Stomping on it seemed to work best, but it was a very slow process. I jumped into the Winnabaggo started squashing the perimeter of the fires with the tires.
    By the time we finally got it under control, about one acre had burned and the rolling motel had two flat tires from running over the short mesquite brush.

    We were all exhausted from lack of sleep, squirting fluids and panic. So, the beer cooler opens up for business and we made a plan. We figured the best thing to do was just pull the Winnabaggo with the flat tires to the paved main entrance road. Leave it there, and haul arse back home. The plan never happened as one by one we crashed out for some shut eye. I woke up around mid afternoon, went outside to see view the disaster. The carcass of the calf was about half burnt and there was a bunch of empty beer cans and whiskey bottles all over the place. What a mess. I pulled out a lawn chair and joined a couple of other guys that were just sitting there drinking beer. We had been gone for over 42 hours at this point with no hunting time. There was concern for the guy that invited us. We were his guest. He got the invite and would have to take all the heat. The big problem was he hadn't been sober since we left. He couldn't even say a complete sentence without slurring his speech. He liked to hunt, but booze and being with his friends came first.

    We woke him up and watched him puke a couple of times before he made a stiff drink. He sat down and looked over the mess we had created. His comment was something like "Well, we've already screwed up and my arse is grass so let's just kill some deer and have a good time." So, out come the guns and ice chest. All the pickups took off hunting and were supposed to be back at the burn site after dark. "hemorrhoid Boy" could not sit down because of the pain. He also had become very drunk so I strapped him in a vertical position to my headache rack and took off. An hour later I knew he had passed out. Normally when the guy standing in the back of the truck sees something he taps on the roof so the driver can stop. I was seeing game all over the place before dark. I finally saw a buck worth shooting so I jumped out of the truck to take a shot. I couldn't take a deep breath as this horrible smell was making me gag. Hemorrhoid Boy had deposited a blowout of Chicken Beaks in his pants at some point.

    The back of my truck was a mess. I just left him tied up and headed to a tank I spotted earlier. I made him jump in the tank and wash his clothes. This was a funny moment. This guy is standing at the edge of a South Texas tank shivering butt naked screaming for his Preparation H. I took my time as I made a couple drinks and pulled out a camera. I got a great picture of him. His mouth was expressing relief as he injected that greasy stuff up his butt. I still have that picture stored with all my other potential pay back photos if needed.

    My truck was the first one back and I got a fire started. The second truck arrived soon after. After telling lies for about an hour over cocktails we got hungry. The third truck with two guys was still missing. We ate and continued to tell stories around the fire. Around 9PM one truck took off in search of the missing guys. I had the privilege of watching over the fire and Hemorrhoid Boy. The search truck returned around midnight with no success.
     
  11. bpitcher

    bpitcher Senior Member

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    lets hear the rest!
     
  12. Gunsmoke

    Gunsmoke Guest

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    DAY FOUR – Part 1

    Sometime in the middle of darkness the Winnabaggo was smoking. Someone took a lit cigar to bed with him and fell asleep. It was a small fire, but nothing that a few cans of beer wouldn't put out. The smell of burnt cotton and beer actually smelt better than the odor coming from the stopped up toilet. For that reason, I thought the fire was a positive thing.

    The alarm rang off about 5AM. Of the five in the motor home, only three were up to getting out of bed. I took off with Hemorrhoid Boy in one truck. The main goal was to kill a nice deer. We figured we’d find the lost truck at some point. Have you ever been in a truck in cold weather with a guy that has a combination of bad gas, leaky butt, and roids? It’s not pleasant. He is sitting on two pillows to cushion the blows from the bumpy road. I’ve got two half used tubes of Preparation H on my dash that are melting into the defrost vents. I couldn’t take the smell anymore and put him outside in the bed of the truck to air out.

    At the first gate, I roll down the window to get Roids to open the gate. The guy can barely walk. He asks me for a knife. Little did I know that I was about to witness the first “Cut and Flip” in my life. He reached the gate, and pulled down his pants. He took the knife and cut the left hip section of his underwear. Then he cut the right hip side, grabbed them from the middle and flipped them over the fence. He then wobbled over to my window with his pants around his ankles and asked for the Preparation H. I handed him this very warm tube from the dash. He walks to the front of the truck, hangs on to the bumper guard and bends over to load up. I was fairly disgusted at this point and laid on the horn. He squeezed in that hot stuff and started screaming. Apparently having hemorrhoids combined with the red ass from the Mexican chicken breaks should labeled on the tube of Preparation H as a warning for severe pain.

    Over the next hour I passed on three bucks that were very nice but not what I considered a trophy. This place had tons of gates. I witnessed one more “Cut and Flip” before Roids ran out of wear. We came up to a stock tank. I needed to do a field dump so I walked towards some mesquite brush. I didn’t make it. I’ll have to admit that I had no idea that my first “Cut and Flip” was about to happen. To this day, I have never eaten Chicken Beaks again. Those things would be great for constipation. As I was finishing up the mess I made on myself, I could hear an engine running in the distance. We drove over the tank dam down into a flat section where we found our missing truck stuck in the mud.

    The two guys were gone. The engine was running and there was two boots sticking out of the mud about 4 inches. We kept driving in the direction of the foot prints. Finally, I saw a nice buck standing in a pear flat. I popped him. He was very nice. 24” spread, 12 points with long tines and at least 175 pounds dressed out. I was very excited. Whiskey time. It’s only about 10AM. I was fired up and needed a stiff drink to put up with the smell coming out of the truck. Rhoid’s loves to drink. I told him he could ride up front if he stuffed some wet paper towels in his crack and bartended. We drove to the next gate where we saw evidence of our two missing buddies. At the gate were some empty beer cans and two large piles of dung. Hanging on the fence were spoiled sleeves from their shirts. It’s amazing how creative a person can be when you have no toilet paper.
     
  13. Bret

    Bret Senior Member

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    Man, that is some good stuff right there.. lets hear the rest!
     
  14. Ragman

    Ragman Moderator

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    Has anyone on 360 or 2Cool actually met GS or MrBill in person ?

    As much adventurous and straight-shooting, old-school personality and character you two bring and add to this site, I just want to make sure you're both not fictional characters created by EARL or someone else! LMAO
     
  15. fathom

    fathom Lifetime Supporting Members

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    Gunsmoke,

    I belive you could sell this, NATIONAL LAMPOON ??


    fathom
     
  16. Bret

    Bret Senior Member

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    Has anyone on 360 or 2Cool actually met GS or MrBill in person ?

    As much adventurous and straight-shooting, old-school personality and character you two bring and add to this site, I just want to make sure you're both not fictional characters created by EARL or someone else! LMAO

    I think I see a movie in the making.... "redneck rampage partXXI"

    I havent met them... but would love to drink a beer and listen to their stories..
     
  17. Gunsmoke

    Gunsmoke Guest

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    I haven't met them... but would love to drink a beer and listen to their stories..

    This is the closest you will get to a picture of me on the internet. ;) It is hanging over my bar at home.:) I just scanned it. It was done in pencil at a marina bar in Mexico a few years back. I had just landed a 245 pound tuna and was shooting shots of Tequila. :D This old man wanted two dollars to do a drawing of me with the tuna. I told him I would give him twenty. The only condition was I didn't have to move from the bar, and I wanted a character in it. He did a great job with my description of Matt Dillon.
     

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  18. Bret

    Bret Senior Member

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    Marshall Dillon, I would recognize you anywhere.. So does mr Bill look like Festus????
     
  19. Mitchw123456

    Mitchw123456 Senior Member

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    This is the closest you will get to a picture of me on the internet. ;) It is hanging over my bar at home.:)

    I guess that means you are a different Gundoctor than the one on EC or do we need the lemon pic here too? ;)
     
  20. Gunsmoke

    Gunsmoke Guest

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    DAY FOUR - Part 2

    We proceeded through the gate into the next pasture. Another hour or so passed and Roids was DBL big time. (DBL=Drunk Before Lunch). The best thing Roids has going for him, is the fact he is quiet. He loves the juice, and he doesn’t pretend to be “Mr. Know It All”. I don’t mind a silent drunk. That’s why I picked him as a travel mate to begin the trip. If I had known in advance about his hemorrhoid problem I would have probably traveled with someone else. I put him the back of the truck again where he passed out. He was quick to use the dead buck as a mattress. Finally up ahead I see a primitive building. It was the ranch hands bunkhouse and next to it was a very crude cookhouse. Inside the cookhouse was our two lost buddies. It was quite a site. They were sleeping on the two old wooden dining tables. The guy that had lost his boots had cut off his jeans at the knees and made some footwear out of them. Duct tape was doing its job. The sink was full of cow intestines soaking in off colored water. Outside on the clothes line was a bunch of beef strips hanging covered with a blanket of big flies. I mixed another stiff drink and sat down under the shed to gather my thoughts.

    Next thing I know someone is shaking me. The ranch hands had returned from a day’s work. My Spanish was ok at the time. I gave them a case of beer and in return they drew a crude map of the ranch. It was marked with spots that were holding nice bucks. It was near prime hunting time so the four of us took off hunting. By sunset, we had bagged two more very nice bucks. On the way back, we stopped off at the cookhouse. The ranch hands invited us to eat with them.

    I knew we were in for a special treat when I went to wash my hands and noticed the intestines were missing. On the stove was a large pot with some weird kind of stew inside. Not to be rude, we got a bowl and dug in the stew. I couldn’t help but notice an occasional fly still stuck to the meat. It was a mixture of intestines, green fly meat, potatoes, pinto beans and fresh cut chili peppers. It actually tasted very good. The meat was tough but it hit the spot.

    We stopped at the spot where the truck was stuck in the mud on the way back to the burn site. There were now two stuck trucks with a tight tow chain between them. There was nobody in site. When we arrived at the burn site the other guys had a fire going with one buck hanging off the side of the Winnebago. For the next couple of hours we drank at the fire and told stories about our day. It was widely accepted that we don’t attempt to free the stuck trucks until sunrise.

    Rhoid’s was not the one with ass problems. The camp fire helped burn all the “Dry Wipes”. A dry wipe is used when you have the itchy wet butt but aren’t quite ready for a dump. A roll of paper towels works best for group dry wipes. I still to this day carry at least two rolls of paper towels with me in my vehicle. If you are in severe pain just wet the paper towel with water. That’s a “Wet Wipe”.

    That night was a long one. The coyote’s were howling with the smell of the deer hanging off the Winnebago. The worst thing once again was the primitive food from the cook shack. That special stew was coming out of both ends from all that ate it. I think the intestines weren’t squeezed out very well. Those ranch hands are used to it. Us city guys just can’t stomach flies and poop in our food. There wasn’t a pair of underwear left in anyone’s duffle bag. I stole two pair from another guy’s bag and lost them to Cut & Flips during the night.
     
  21. Bret

    Bret Senior Member

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    LOL!!!! LOL!!!!! Dang that's some good stuff!!! keep it coming.
     
  22. MrBill

    MrBill Senior Member

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    So does mr Bill look like Festus????

    I hope not!!!!!!!!:confused: