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Who are the Craziest Outdoorsmen?
My father and I, on our way up a mountain before the crack of dawn to our deer hunting area in various forms of inclement weather, often drive past a lake where anglers are unloading their boats in to choppy water. With some ironic humor, we remark "Those guys have to be crazy!"
The variation on the theme this morning was to discuss, of the various ways to hunt and gather your food, which one demonstrates the weakest grasp on sanity? Here were some of our thoughts on the matter:
DUCK HUNTERS: Get up insanely early on a cold, wet morning to place decoys in a cold, wet body of water, and then continue to be cold and wet for the best part of the day, waiting to blast a bottom-feeding bird that, in all likelihood, doesn't taste very good. No less an authority than Robert Ruark called the pre-dawn period of the day "a time reserved for death and duck hunting".
ELK HUNTERS: Chase a migratory animal that spends it's life RUNNING at mountain elevations, and then once successfully killed, figure out how to get 500+ pounds of it down from mountain elevations. You may be stark raving bonkers, but at least you're probably in pretty good shape.
MOUNTAIN SHEEP HUNTERS: Even more altitude sickness than elk hunting, not as large or as good a meal, and the very real chance of falling to your death from a cliff face added in.
DOVE HUNTERS: No, there isn't much threat of hypothermia or exhaustion, but, typical bag limits being what they are, these guys go through a lot of effort for a hors d'ourve. The amount some will spend on a firearm that isn't even rifled causes some doubt as to sanity as well.
ICE FISHERMEN: I figure that tensions between you and the missus have to be pretty advanced if it seems like a good idea to leve your warm house to slide a shack onto a frozen lake and sit staring at a hole drilled down to liquid water. (These guys get my vote)
DEER HUNTERS: There are so many places and ways to do it that there are undoubtedly many different levels of crazy, ranging from "How much money can you be suckered into spending on gear thinking it will increase your chances of success?" to "Hunt? Screw that! Let's just stay in camp and drink beer!"
Your votes and nominations please. :tooth:
The variation on the theme this morning was to discuss, of the various ways to hunt and gather your food, which one demonstrates the weakest grasp on sanity? Here were some of our thoughts on the matter:
DUCK HUNTERS: Get up insanely early on a cold, wet morning to place decoys in a cold, wet body of water, and then continue to be cold and wet for the best part of the day, waiting to blast a bottom-feeding bird that, in all likelihood, doesn't taste very good. No less an authority than Robert Ruark called the pre-dawn period of the day "a time reserved for death and duck hunting".
ELK HUNTERS: Chase a migratory animal that spends it's life RUNNING at mountain elevations, and then once successfully killed, figure out how to get 500+ pounds of it down from mountain elevations. You may be stark raving bonkers, but at least you're probably in pretty good shape.
MOUNTAIN SHEEP HUNTERS: Even more altitude sickness than elk hunting, not as large or as good a meal, and the very real chance of falling to your death from a cliff face added in.
DOVE HUNTERS: No, there isn't much threat of hypothermia or exhaustion, but, typical bag limits being what they are, these guys go through a lot of effort for a hors d'ourve. The amount some will spend on a firearm that isn't even rifled causes some doubt as to sanity as well.
ICE FISHERMEN: I figure that tensions between you and the missus have to be pretty advanced if it seems like a good idea to leve your warm house to slide a shack onto a frozen lake and sit staring at a hole drilled down to liquid water. (These guys get my vote)
DEER HUNTERS: There are so many places and ways to do it that there are undoubtedly many different levels of crazy, ranging from "How much money can you be suckered into spending on gear thinking it will increase your chances of success?" to "Hunt? Screw that! Let's just stay in camp and drink beer!"
Your votes and nominations please. :tooth:
WWJMBD?
"Nothing is safe from stupid." - Zee
"Nothing is safe from stupid." - Zee
Replies
Add Birdwatching to your original list. Why on earth would you want to go to the beach, sit in the hot sun all day drinking beer and watch scantily clad females parade past you wearing less material than a 50 cal black powder patch...............
Not only are they out in the woods 3 hours before zero dark:30, they were there the night before, just to make funny sounds. During the hottest tick season, they park themselves on the ground on Specialized $eats, in $pecialized camo, with $pecialized pockets filled with things to make them sound like a bird who has been known to drown looking up in a rainstorm. They load a $pecialized smoothbore with sights with $pecial ammo in the hopes of shooting a bird that can see like a eagle and hear like a dog and thinks his random noise sounds like a hot date.
This.
Ocean fishermen get my vote.
$150,000 Yellowfin hull, check.
$100,000 in motors, check.
$10,000 in rods/reels, check.
$2,000 in ice boxes, check.
$8,000 trailer, check.
$60,000 F350/GMC 3500/Ram 3500 to tow it, check.
$2,000 in fuel, check.
$500 in rigs, check.
$200 in bait, check.
$10,000 in other crap you buy, check.
That one 25 pound Dorado you caught...priceles--actually it's a $300,000 fish...
All this for some birds that I'll give away, because I don't like to eat wild ducks or geese.
As the old saying goes " I might be crazy but it keeps me from going insane"
JAY
All you need is any somewhat open-choked shotgun, a case of 7-1/2 field loads, a bucket to sit on, and some dirt colored clothing. Drive to the driest area you can find that supports bird life and find the only water source for a mile or so. Sit on the bucket till sundown. Shoot 15 doves with three boxes of shells. Clip the wings off with scissors, then rip the breasts out with your bare hands - takes 5-10 minutes per 15 bird limit. Put the breasts in your bucket and run it full of water while agitating the dove breasts, so that the bucket fills up, all the feathers float to the top and run out on the ground. Put in a zip-lock bag and throw into an ice chest. Repeat this procedure three times and go home. When you get home, stick the breasts on a shish-ka-bob skewer with jalapenos, onions, etc., and wrap with bacon. Cook on charcoal grill until bacon is done. Eat, drink beer, lie about your fantastic shots, and laugh at everybody else's stories. Repeat as often as you like.
:drool:
After my last, probably really my last, elk, I think I'll go with this. I've hauled enough off of the mountain to conclude that the only thing worse than not getting one is getting one. Especially a big one, and even the little ones are big.
Never tried fishing for ice. It just never has made any sense to me. But, it's like strawberries, I suppose. Some put manure on theirs, and others put cream and sugar on them.
Gun control laws make about as much sense as taking ex-lax to cure a cough.
At least they stay cold! :beer:
Where did I lose you? :tooth:
Jerry
I went on a muzzleloader hunt and was fortunate enough to get on a friend's private property for the hunt. Me and my dad were the only hunters in a large area, aside from one guy who was intermittently hunting predators with his bow at that time. I was hunting with a Hawken style rifle. The owner of the property had already mentioned that he had a backhoe available for us to use and, if we shot an elk at that was accessible, we could use it to go pick the elk up, move it back to camp and hang it to dress it. Sweet! My dad and I had split up and were walking along side a ridge on opposite sides with the wind in our faces. I heard a bull bugling on my dad's side and he apparently saw them and started moving toward them, but they busted him and came crashing over to my side. I tried to get in position for them, but they made it through the draw on my side and went over the top of the ridge on the other side and started circling back the opposite direction I was going. So I started husltling back down the draw to get down wind of them, and heard them start crashing back over and coming back to my side. I got down wind of them and started trying to move to where I thought they would cross, but they started crossing right in front of me before I could get where I could set up for them. I hid behind a tree and watched as all the cows came out of the brush and crossed a clearing in front of me. Some time after they came out, the bull slowly moved out and walked up in front of me bugling. At this point, I cock the rifle, the bull steps in front of me broadside, stops and lays his head back and bugles. I later hit that spot with the rangefinder at 45 yards. He was standing a short distance from a little dirt road, easily accessible. At this point, the hair on the back of my neck is standing and my heart is racing with this big bull bugling right in front of me, and I had taken note of his position right next to the road. If I can drop this guy right next to the road, this is going to be the easiest elk hunt I've ever known. Maxed out with adrenaline, I hit the set trigger on the Hawken raise it up to my shoulder, sight picture starting off just above his back with the intention of settling the sights down to where I want my shot placed, exhale, pause and touch it off. But, in the real world, I raise the rifle to my shoulder, sights just above his back, BOOM! The bull stood there looking at me for what seemed like an eternity, then slowly turned and when straight up the mountain, out of sight. Didn't get another shot the rest of the trip. That one haunted me for a while.
nuff said.
Jerry