Creepy experiences in the backcountry

[mike.adams.467]

Absolutely. The only thing that is different between Greene County and anything WV is the ZIP Code.

I lived in Morgantown, 5 miles from the Greene County line, for 10 years. Good people back there.

 

[Pdzoller]

Did you both chamber a round? No way on God`s green earth that I wouldn`t have!

Always have one in the hole of the sidearm.

 

[Yoder]

Someone should pick the best stories and make a creepy stories of Rokslide book. I only have a black bear story. I found a nice beaver pond only about a mile back. The year prior, I cut a path in to the dam so I could stand on it and fish. The stocked fish would always end up there and the fishing was awesome. The path in was almost like a tunnel through the thick brush of the swamp. One night It's getting dark and I have a couple fish on my stringer. All of the sudden I hear splashing behind me. I took a step back and looked down my path and there's a black bear about 40 yards away walking right toward me. It was pretty good size, maybe 350lbs. I started yelling at it and it could care less. I threw a dead branch at it and it stopped and slowly turned around. I see bears all the time and this was the first one that really made me nervous. I pulled my Glock out from inside my waders and packed everything up. The bear was standing right at the entrance into the thick brush looking at me. It was my only way out so I walked toward him yelling with my Glock in hand. He stayed within 30-40 yards but wouldn't run away. I got out of the thick stuff and he was standing up the hill looking down at me, right where I needed to go. I kept walking toward him yelling and he slowly walked off to the right. I needed to go left so I thought we were good. I walked backwards looking at him until he was out of sight then headed out the trail to my truck. At that point I relaxed thinking the bear was gone and I was good to go. I decided to not holster my gun since I would have to dig it out of my waders but I thought I was being paranoid. I walked about a 1/2 mile and all of the sudden I heard a branch break behind me. I turned around and that bear was running right at me. It reminded me of my dog bringing back a ball I threw. When he seen me turn he stopped. He was only about 20 yards away. He started slowly angling toward me. At this point, I wondering if I'm going to have to shoot this thing. I aimed low at a big tree in front of me and shot one time. He took off like he was on fire. I have never encountered a black bear like that. I think he may have been used to people feeding him from some of the nearby cabins.

 

[Jeff_Gibbons]

Early 1960's: Dad took members of the USAF base skeet club up to near Black Canyon City, AZ to chase quail. During lunch they sat under a tree near the edge of the pull out the car was parked at. One guy walked over the road bank to take a leak, and found some interesting bones. Asked Dad what he thought they were. Third bone scratched out of the dirt was cone shaped. Dad thought it was a human finger tip bone. Went to town and called the sheriff and lead a deputy back to the area. Turned out to be the remains of a hostage bank teller from a robbery in Phoenix several years prior.

Mid 1970's: In the ghost town of Rawhide, NV (before squatters torn down the buildings for firewood) you could hear "things" in the buildings once in a while. Once we sat at the edge of a vertical mine shaft and could hear groans coming up out of the darkness. Dad thought it was probably a coyote that fell in and was dying.

All over the NV backcountry you can encounter remnants of historical mining or ranching activities. Mostly dumps of rusty old tin cans. When chukar hunting in the Reese River area I climbed to a knob on the side of a small canyon hoping to flush some birds down to my dad. They just ran up hill further. I proceeded to head uphill after them and stepped around some brush and found a rectangle of large tin cans. About 6 feet long and three feet wide. Flat rocks were neatly placed inside the rectangle. A large pinon was growing up out of the far end of the rectangle. Like a head stone. All the tin cans were placed with the lead seal upward, making a striking visual feature. I looked around for any kind of structure such as a stacked rock line shack, or log cabin. Nothing, just this one grave in the middle of nowhere, on the only flat spot on a steep slope overlooking not much of anything.

I found a similar grave on the side of a hill near an old mining area in the Mohave. Smaller dimensions 2’x4.5’ rock lined perimeter. Not particularly a special spot imo.

 

[DarkArcher]

This thread has been incredible and I think I’ve read through this forum twice now, such great stories! I’ll share a few stories that I have experienced.

I grew up in rural Michigan in a small ranch style house with 4 brothers and a younger sister. We lived in the country with few neighbors and more woods and farmland around us than people. It was a Saturday morning in early fall. My parents were out jogging a few miles away from our house. This was back in early 2000 so no cell phones or way to communicate with them. My older brother was left in charge of all of us, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. While my siblings sat inside watching cartoons, I headed outside to shoot my bow from the elevated platform that we shot 3D targets out of. This was my first year being able to hunt for big game with a bow as I was now 12 years old; I was excited for the season to start and shot as much as I could.

Where I was shooting my bow was about 25 yards from the house, with several trees around the platform, which concealed my location. I had just shot my first round of 3 field points into the 3D buck target when I hard a loud “slam” coming from the house. At first I didn’t think anything of it as my sibling are pretty rowdy and assumed they were just roughhousing. The second time I heard the slam I realized the sound was coming from outside the house. This was odd to me because I had told my siblings I was going to be shooting my bow and we have a strict policy of no playing in the yard if we’re shooting (my father was very stern in this rule and it was never broken).

Peaking my curiosity I peered through the tree branches. What I saw next made every hair on my body stand on end and sent a shiver of fear through my body. A disheveled man was on the side of our house and was fidgeting with the door handle and attempting to open the door and use his shoulder to get in. He twisted at the door handle and again slammed his shoulder into it. He had on a grey and black plaid coat that was unbuttoned and had a rip in the back. He had blood on his hands which smeared on the white door as he tried again to open it. His pinky and ring finger on his left hand were visibly deformed. His hair, to his shoulders, was grey, matted-down and unkept. He had dried blood on his face. His blue jeans were dirty, torn, and wet.

He tried the handle again, shoved on the door with his shoulder and when it didn’t budge, he stepped back. He looked around, and looked In my direction. My heart pounded. I was frozen with fear, but felt confident he wouldn’t see me as I was around 10 feet off the ground hidden in the leaves. Multiple thoughts went through my head as I tried to figure out what to do next. He was still trying to work the door handle as I lowered my bow down with the bow-rope. Every so carefully and calculated, I climbed silently down the ladder to the ground. Once down I picked up my bow, pulled an aluminum arrow tipped with a 85 grain thunderhead broadhead out of the quiver and again laid eyes on the strange bloodied man.

I wanted to run up to the front of the house and try to get inside but feared he would hear me pounding and come after me. There was no way to contact my family inside, and it appeared this man had an ill intent. Just when I was trying to decide what to do next my oldest brother peered out the window 20 feet to the left and held up a piece of paper that said “911” and motioned for me to get back up in the shooting platform as this strange man was in between me and the safety of the house. I held my bow up, gesturing to him “should I use my bow and arrow?” He shook his head, and motioned for me to get back up in the platform. I took my broadhead off, put it in the quiver and again hooked it to the bow rope and snuck back up into the elevated perch.

After the door hadn’t budged, the torn and tattered man turned around and was wandering off back towards the driveway behind our house. I stayed in my position and watched him with the broadhead once again knocked on my string. My knees were shaking, my nose was running from the massive release of adrenaline and my heart pounded. Just then I heard a car pull into our driveway, a two sheriff deputies stepped out of the car and came around the back of our house and shouted for the man to get on his knees with his hands behind his head. The two officers apprehended the man and placed him in the back of their squad car. I climbed down and sprinted into the house with my siblings, adrenaline still pumping through my body. Shortly after this my parents had come back and the neighbors came over.

Apparently this guy was drunk at 7am and had driven his vehicle over the guard rail and into the creek by our house. Not wanting to get a DUI he fled the scene. He wandered to the neighbor’s house and had attempted to steal their car out of the garage, and when that failed he went to the next house and tried to break in to their company garage and steal a four-wheeler. When he was caught in the act he ran into the woods and they had called the police. My brother informed me that the guy had tried to get into our house, and knocked on the door and drunkenly fell back on the ground. When he asked to use the phone, (we only had a phone with a cord) and my brother would not let him use it and asked him to leave. The guy got agitated and then apparently tried the side door. Maybe he thought he was at a different house because he was so drunk he didn’t realize he was at the same house? I’m not sure, but seeing that guy bloodied and trying to break into my house with my siblings inside is still burned into my memory 20 years later.

 

[Fowl Play]

I have a pretty good one.... new hunting camp, first year in, peak of the whitetail rut, and my Dad has to head back early for work. I was 16 at the time and really wanted to stay and hunt. Friend of my Dad offered to drive me back 3 days later. Sweet! That night the guys decide to watch the movie Congo. If you've never watched it, major premise of the movie is an expedition party getting torn to bits by genetically modified apes in the jungles of Africa. After the movie, my dad's buddy explains that he has the perfect spot for me to hunt tomorrow. It's a raised levee in the middle of a swamp. A natural funnel that should have plenty of deer crossing in the AM. Only issue is it's about a 1/4 mile walk through waist deep water to get there, but he has a pair of chest waders I can borrow. With a smirk, he says.... unless you're too scared to hunt there after watching that movie. Of course, I'm not going to admit I'm freaked out a bit... so calmly say it's no issue. Next morning, with a smirk, he drops me off in the middle of this swamp. Tells me he'll be back to pick me up at 11am. As the taillights disappear through the cypress trees, I contemplate just sitting down and hunting the road. That movie did mess me up, and trudging waist deep through this swamp following a questionable bright eye trail with my dim headlamp doesn't sound great. I muster up courage and start trudging in though. Just as I'm about halfway in, waist deep, every step a challenge due to sucking mud.... I hear the most un-godly noise. My mind must be playing tricks on me... there are no monkeys in Alabama. Another hundred yards in, and I hear it again. This time closer and very clear. My god.... it sounded like a gorilla. I'm now doing my best to run through sucking mud... gorilla noises coming from the trees all around me. I'm literally yelling, "There aren't monkeys in Alabama!" over and over at the top of my lungs. Just as quickly as the noises came, they left. I did eventually find the stand.... the next 4 hours were me clutching my rifle, safety off, drawing on every little noise I heard in the woods.... contemplating my sanity over what I just experienced. Honestly, the walk back through the swamp might have been worse, whole time scared out of my mind. Wondering if I should even speak about what I experienced. I meet them on the road at 11, instead of it just being the one guy it's actually everyone in camp in one truck. I didn't say anything, but the look on my face must have conveyed my experienced. They immediately start laughing their asses off, and ask to hear my story. As I start telling the story through their belly laughing, I am now convinced they played a trick on me and were hiding in the trees waiting to scare me. I'm telling them they should be glad I didn't blow one of their heads off... the truth is actually much stranger. Yes, it was a set-up from the get go... BUT it wasn't them in the trees. History is a bit murky on how they got there. Some say it was released pets, some say it was a previous landowner who released them on purpose, BUT there was actually a troop of fuggin' HOWLER MONKEYS that lived in that swamp. They had discovered this on accident, but had been waiting to pull this prank on someone like me for years. They still laugh about it every time they see me. I agree it was a good prank... although it messed me up for a while. Go watch a youtube video on what howler monkeys sound like, now imagine yourself in a swamp, up to your waist.... feet stuck in mud. Mind fresh with vivid images of gorillas ripping peoples heads off.... fukkers!

Edit: this is the sound they make... when idk, a poor teenager invades their territory at 5am

 

[Kilboars]

Wow. These stories keep getting better.


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[jgilber5]

Not too crazy but definitely the most scared I've been in the woods.

I went to college in the prairie country of Minnesota. There wasn't a whole lot of public ground, but there were a few pretty large swamps that kept people out. Scouting the edge of the corn in October I found an absolutely torn up corner of the field next to one of these swamps, great rubs everywhere, and a trail straight through the marsh leading back to a strip of trees on the only high ground around. I came back with my waders and a few climbing sticks the next week, and after about a 1/2 mile walk through knee to chest deep swamp, made it out and up into a medium sized oak for an evening sit. Saw a monster buck, but that's another story. Shooting time came and went, and just as I'm lowering my bow down I hear the most blood chilling sound I've heard in the woods. I can only describe it as a mountain lion crossed with someone being murdered, along with growling, hissing, and crashing. It first started about 50 yards off, and of course, as darkness fell the sound inched closer and closer to my tree. At this point I'm losing it trying to convince myself the odds of a cougar this far south are pretty slim, but that didn't help thinking about what the alternatives might be. Well, it finally reached my tree, and I was able to light it up with my phone flash.

Now I know what two raccoons tearing each other apart sounds like

 

[Fever Buck]

Really enjoyed this thread fellas. Gave me a solid few weeks of toilet reading.

 

[WKB]

I wasn't hunting when this happened. I was in Fort Lewis Washington during Officer Candidate School. After a long day of patrols in the pines, my platoon had set up a cigar shaped outpost and hunkered down for the night. I had second watch with my buddy Brian from Texas. We had set up a defensive position about ten meters of the tip of the out post and set up our M60. Our position was hunkered on the edge of this timberline that overlooked a meadow that was about 1000m wide by 200m or so deep. The meadow then was bordered by another thick line of timber.
Now, I must preface. We were in training and going to perform a raid on a simulated enemy village the next day. Our weapons were loaded with blanks and we all had blank firing adaptors on the muzzles. How the training worked is there were volunteers from other local army units who would play OPFOR and react to your presence accordingly with simulated gunfights, ambushes, reactions to contact, indirect fire, etc.
Brian and I were fully expecting to get attacked that night by the OPFOR. This was a common tactic to hit when trainees were tired and visibility was poor. However, that night was a full moon and Brian and I had snuck ground coffee into our pockets for later consumption. Our meadow was lit up by the glow of the moon, we had perfect visibility of the entire field of fire. Our defensive position was seemingly impregnable, we had overwatch, we had cover and concealment, and most importantly, we were wide awake. We were ready for any thing the OPFOR threw at us.
At about 1 in the morning a low fog rolled in blanketing the meadow. The crisp night air punctuated the clarity of the moonlight. Brian and I were watching the meadow when he tapped my shoulder. He whispered in my ear. "DO you see that?" he pointed his finger out to the opposing tree line, where we could see slight movement along the line. I squinted my eyes and could make out shadowy figures slowly advancing towards our position. Brian pushed the safety off the M60 and I hunkered down behind my rifle to get a better look. We counted 5, no, 3... no, maybe just 4 figures seemingly gliding out of the timber and onto the meadow. They were hunched over and slowly creeping towards us. The shadows of the trees still obscured the details of the figures. We were sure the OPFOR were conducting a raid on us and they wanted to maybe take it easy on us, but to cross an open field was ludicrous and poor form. It was just too easy. Didn't these soldiers know they were about to be illuminated perfectly by the light of the full moon and then would be easy targets for two OCS candidates?
We watched the figures get closer to the light. Only maybe fifty more meters till the shadows ended and we would have Positive target ID and would engage. Brian whispered over to me. "Where are their weapons?" Brian was right. they appeared to be unarmed. Well, wait. Were they? "They've got something in their hands....is that a stick?" I hissed back. We waited to see what these OPFOR had.
The OPFOR finally crossed the shadows and entered the lit up meadow, less than 100 m from our position according to our sector sketch. The figures appeared in full visibility of us. My eyes grew big as I realized what I was seeing. The figures were dressed in dusky brown loose fitting outfits, and had what appeared to be small spears and axes. What was most unnerving was their faces were painted bright red and white, which glowed almost flourescently under the full moon. I sucked in air. Brian screamed "CONTACT!!!" and let loose with the Pig. The machine gun fire ripped through the calm of the still night air. the muzzle flash blinding us both. I lined up my sights on my rifle and fired several shots in succession of the M60. After about 20 seconds or so, we quit firing and surveyed the area. The meadow was empty. The figures were gone. Nowhere to be seen. Brian and I were both shaking. We looked around. no enemy soldiers to be seen, and perhaps even more strange, none of our platoon or the cadre had woken from the cacophony of gunfire. Brian and I hunkered down closer and waited for the inevitable second wave. The Fog rolled out. "What was that?" I hissed. "I don't know" Brian said. We waited for Them to come back. They never did. Our watch ended after another hour of being frozen to our guns, eyes peeled on the meadow. We tried to sleep unsuccessfully. The next morning we asked if anyone heard any gunfire or commotion the night before. No one heard a thing.

 

[Anschutz]

I wasn't hunting when this happened. I was in Fort Lewis Washington during Officer Candidate School. After a long day of patrols in the pines, my platoon had set up a cigar shaped outpost and hunkered down for the night. I had second watch with my buddy Brian from Texas. We had set up a defensive position about ten meters of the tip of the out post and set up our M60. Our position was hunkered on the edge of this timberline that overlooked a meadow that was about 1000m wide by 200m or so deep. The meadow then was bordered by another thick line of timber.
Now, I must preface. We were in training and going to perform a raid on a simulated enemy village the next day. Our weapons were loaded with blanks and we all had blank firing adaptors on the muzzles. How the training worked is there were volunteers from other local army units who would play OPFOR and react to your presence accordingly with simulated gunfights, ambushes, reactions to contact, indirect fire, etc.
Brian and I were fully expecting to get attacked that night by the OPFOR. This was a common tactic to hit when trainees were tired and visibility was poor. However, that night was a full moon and Brian and I had snuck ground coffee into our pockets for later consumption. Our meadow was lit up by the glow of the moon, we had perfect visibility of the entire field of fire. Our defensive position was seemingly impregnable, we had overwatch, we had cover and concealment, and most importantly, we were wide awake. We were ready for any thing the OPFOR threw at us.
At about 1 in the morning a low fog rolled in blanketing the meadow. The crisp night air punctuated the clarity of the moonlight. Brian and I were watching the meadow when he tapped my shoulder. He whispered in my ear. "DO you see that?" he pointed his finger out to the opposing tree line, where we could see slight movement along the line. I squinted my eyes and could make out shadowy figures slowly advancing towards our position. Brian pushed the safety off the M60 and I hunkered down behind my rifle to get a better look. We counted 5, no, 3... no, maybe just 4 figures seemingly gliding out of the timber and onto the meadow. They were hunched over and slowly creeping towards us. The shadows of the trees still obscured the details of the figures. We were sure the OPFOR were conducting a raid on us and they wanted to maybe take it easy on us, but to cross an open field was ludicrous and poor form. It was just too easy. Didn't these soldiers know they were about to be illuminated perfectly by the light of the full moon and then would be easy targets for two OCS candidates?
We watched the figures get closer to the light. Only maybe fifty more meters till the shadows ended and we would have Positive target ID and would engage. Brian whispered over to me. "Where are their weapons?" Brian was right. they appeared to be unarmed. Well, wait. Were they? "They've got something in their hands....is that a stick?" I hissed back. We waited to see what these OPFOR had.
The OPFOR finally crossed the shadows and entered the lit up meadow, less than 100 m from our position according to our sector sketch. The figures appeared in full visibility of us. My eyes grew big as I realized what I was seeing. The figures were dressed in dusky brown loose fitting outfits, and had what appeared to be small spears and axes. What was most unnerving was their faces were painted bright red and white, which glowed almost flourescently under the full moon. I sucked in air. Brian screamed "CONTACT!!!" and let loose with the Pig. The machine gun fire ripped through the calm of the still night air. the muzzle flash blinding us both. I lined up my sights on my rifle and fired several shots in succession of the M60. After about 20 seconds or so, we quit firing and surveyed the area. The meadow was empty. The figures were gone. Nowhere to be seen. Brian and I were both shaking. We looked around. no enemy soldiers to be seen, and perhaps even more strange, none of our platoon or the cadre had woken from the cacophony of gunfire. Brian and I hunkered down closer and waited for the inevitable second wave. The Fog rolled out. "What was that?" I hissed. "I don't know" Brian said. We waited for Them to come back. They never did. Our watch ended after another hour of being frozen to our guns, eyes peeled on the meadow. We tried to sleep unsuccessfully. The next morning we asked if anyone heard any gunfire or commotion the night before. No one heard a thing.

When I was a Cadet at West Point, we had a similar training exercise, and the underclassmen served as OPFOR. Except they had the advantage of being augmented by a team from 5SFG. The last night of the exercise, we were in a platoon patrol base, deep in the woods on the plateau of a ridge. I was on a half-assed watch, dark as hell, probably dozing off when all four of us were awoken by the most perfect howl a man can do. The guy next to me shook awake and asked if that was a wolf. About the time I said, "There aren't wolves here," a cacophony of arty and grenade started going off. It was over 100 of them, and as the booms were going, a hail of blank fire from all directions and someone came to out hooch and said "you're dead x3" we didn't care to ask which one of us was alive and they wiped the base out in under a minute. After everything settled down quiet again, I heard the gal next to me go, "There's somebody in my hooch, don't touch my shit," in her mousy voice. I pulled my NVG out (we were short on mounts), and there's an SFG guy sitting right behind her, and she never knew he was there. Turns out they had a ton of Sims left and needed to expend them that night and we were the lucky platoon.

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[Kobuk]

Great stories but if I knew what all of the acronyms meant I bet they would be a LOT better!

 

[Pharmseller]

I’m betting OPFOR is opposing force, SFG is special forces group. NVG night vision goggles.



P

 

[Kobuk]

Aaah, thanks!

 

[Kilboars]

When I was a Cadet at West Point, we had a similar training exercise, and the underclassmen served as OPFOR. Except they had the advantage of being augmented by a team from 5SFG. The last night of the exercise, we were in a platoon patrol base, deep in the woods on the plateau of a ridge. I was on a half-assed watch, dark as hell, probably dozing off when all four of us were awoken by the most perfect howl a man can do. The guy next to me shook awake and asked if that was a wolf. About the time I said, "There aren't wolves here," a cacophony of arty and grenade started going off. It was over 100 of them, and as the booms were going, a hail of blank fire from all directions and someone came to out hooch and said "you're dead x3" we didn't care to ask which one of us was alive and they wiped the base out in under a minute. After everything settled down quiet again, I heard the gal next to me go, "There's somebody in my hooch, don't touch my shit," in her mousy voice. I pulled my NVG out (we were short on mounts), and there's an SFG guy sitting right behind her, and she never knew he was there. Turns out they had a ton of Sims left and needed to expend them that night and we were the lucky platoon.

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Ok, what?


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[Yahamshari]

Here’s another one.
Not my story but one that I heard from my parents.

This was back in early 80’s. It was bow season in the coast range of Oregon. My Dad decided that he wanted to take my mom bow hunting, and out for a cool experience in the woods. It was evening and he decided to park his car up on a landing and watch the sunset and stars with my mom.

They were asleep in the back of the wagon and were woke suddenly by a guy screaming and revving his old k5, while his bright lights were directed at my dad’s car.

The guy was screaming at my old man to “GET THE F*** OUT HERE, YOU PICKED THE WRONG ROAD TO BE ON! IM GOING TO BLOW YOUR F***ING HEAD OFF!”

My dad whispered to my mom to stay covered up and not to make any noise or movements. My old man had been in special forces and had also been an MP. He didn’t however have anything except his bow.

The stranger wasn’t having any of it! “I TOLD YOU TO GET THE F*** OUT HERE AND I MEAN IT! NOW!”

My dad yelled out the window “Alright man, I’m getting out!” He slowly got out of the car while keeping the car between them. My mom said she could hear the guy work the bolt on his rifle and just knew my dad was dead.

I don’t know exactly what was said, but my mom said she heard my dad start talking to the guy, calm as could be. She said she heard the guy and said he sounded like he was drunk or on drugs.

Eventually my dad was able to talk the guy down and he eventually left.

After they watched the guy drive up to the next landing and sit there, my dad got in his car and told my mom to just stay put in the back and und the blanket while he drove out of there.

My mom said that as soon as they took off they saw the guy start speeding their way! It turned into a car chase on a logging road with a long track to get back to the main road. She said it took forever for my dad to lose him but eventually they did. Said she has never been more scared of anything in her life.

SMH... The world we live in.

 

[Bighunt531]

I’ll share again I guess.
My cousin and I were on our second elk hunt. It was rifle season in the Oregon Cascades. We had been hunting hard and we’re pretty much exhausted from hiking and trying to locate elk. We decided that we would hit up a small valley that everyone else was avoiding due to terrain and vegetation. (Beginning of our backpack hunting)

We left camp at 3am and set out to a point that overlooked a corner of an old burn that had a small river flowing through the bottom. After a couple hours of fighting with rhododendrons we came out to the burn and shortly after we got to our destination.

About noon we were deciding that no animals existed in the area and were about to leave when I just happened to glance over at a patch of blowdown and saw a nice 5x5 stand up. I blurted out BULL! Thankfully he was far enough away that I didn’t spook him. After a while of trying to decide what to do, we got close enough (or so I thought) for a reasonable shot.
I missed twice. After a few minutes of looking around he trotted down to a meadow that was significantly deeper into the burn and valley.

We decided to get closer and try again. We made it to a little hill that looked over the meadow but were running out of light and the wind was all wrong. By this point the bull and his small herd had bedded down just off to the side of the meadow.

We were around four to five miles from the camp and had some really gnarly terrain to get through. I figured we probably wouldn’t get another chance at the bull if we left and thought the herd might stay and come back out to feed in the morning.

We went to the back side of the little hill and made a half ass shelter with rocks and sticks. I made a small fire and we went to sleep. I awoke in the middle of the night to my phone vibrating. It was a message from my wife on my garmin. She said that she hoped we were able to make it back to the truck because the weather forecast called for three feet of snow in the higher elevations of the Cascades.

I was thinking about how crappy the situation had become when I started hearing strange sounds coming from the bottom of the hill, down by the water. It sounded like a mix of laughter and crying with some noises almost sounding metallic. Think rusty gate hinges. I woke my cousin up and he was just as disturbed by it as I was. We stayed silent and just listened. It was down right creepy and lasted until around 4am. Needless to say we didn’t sleep.

We did see the elk again but didn’t take a shot because of the upcoming storm. Never figured out what the noise was either.

Sounds similar to what they heard down by the water in the cascades on missing 411 the hunted.....

 

[Bighunt531]

I don't know whether to chalk this one up to creepy or to a lack of glassing skills or something else. About 10-12 years ago my dad and I were hunting elk in northern New Mexico. We were still hunting very overgrown old logging trails in the middle of the day. I glassed a blue daypack (like a Jansport or something) through a small window in the trees and brush, about 100 yards away. It was laying on a fallen tree. You could only see it from the spot I happened to be standing, so I laid two sticks on the spot in an X and laid a branch pointing in the direction of the pack. My dad stood there to confirm I wasn't seeing things. He confirmed. We decided he would walk over to check it out while I would stay put to walk him in if necessary. He had to go around a lot of deadfall and thick brush to get there, and I ended up moving off the X to direct him with hand signals. When he got to the fallen tree, there was no pack. After signalling him in, I went back to the X and I could see my dad at the correct fallen tree, but couldn't see the pack any more. When he returned and stood on the X, he couldn't see it either. Could have been a weird combination of shadows, the shape of the tree, lack of glassing skills, ineptitude, etc., but we were both certain it was a backpack, and that it wasn't there anymore.

Or the sob wearing it slithered out of there

 

[Valumpessa]

Riding in early on my bike to a morning stand. It was pitch dark and I was wearing a headlamp and making good progress when an owl fluttered up out of the drainage ditch a few feet away and actually brushed my face with its wing as it escaped. For the split second before realizing what it was I thought I was about to be attacked by something.

Also not creepy but I stumbled across this while hunting in a wilderness area last fall. Any ideas?

 

[Buckshotaz]

That tool looks like a probe for digging up old native Americana pottery