I read every post on this thread over the last couple of weeks, and found it very entertaining. I have a few stories of my own that have varying levels of creepiness.
I have a few stories about a suburban house I used to live in, but I am not sure if I should tell them here or on a different thread.
About 20 years ago, my friend and I were big into waterfowl hunting. One of our favorites spots to hunt was a pond on public land about 200 yards off the main body of a large lake. Whenever there were high winds from a cold front, all the birds would leave the choppy waters of the lake and seek refuge in the pond. We had great hunts when the conditions were right, and never saw any sign of other hunters at this pond.
We were out there hunting one morning and had just shot at a group of ducks. I waded out into the water to retrieve our downed birds, and when I turned to walk back to shore, I saw a man walking up behind my friend. He was dressed in grungy and tattered clothes (non-camo/hunting clothing), carrying what looked to be bleach/chemical bottles and a short-barreled pistol grip shotgun with an extended magazine tube.
My friend had not seen him, so I said "Good morning" to him to alert my friend of his presence. As my friend turned around to see who I was talking to, the man aggressively said "What are you doing here?" As he said this he dropped the bottles, which sounded full of liquid and gripped his gun with both hands.
Several things instantly computed in my mind; the guy does not look like a hunter, he is carrying chemical bottles, he has a tactical shotgun, and we are off the beaten path in prime meth-lab territory in East Texas! As my friend occupied the attention of the man and responded that we were simply duck hunting, I snuck 3 shells into my shotgun, which I was thankful to have carried out with me. I waded toward shore holding my gun at the ready.
At some point the man seemed to ease his stance as he believed we were simply hunters. He asked if we had walked into the woods on the other side of the pond, the direction he was heading. We said not that we had not and he told us HE was going that way to duck hunt and to leave him alone, and not walk over there. We told him we would not go over there, and that we were actually about to leave, as it was already about 10:00AM and the morning flight was over, and we were close to our limit anyways.
He eventually walked off, turning back numerous times to look at us. As soon as he was out of sight, we picked up our decoys and hauled butt back to my truck.
My guess is he was about to go cook up some meth in the woods, as nothing about him said hunter, and the direction he was headed was away from the lake and there were not ponds, creeks, etc. to hunt. I cannot remember if we actually called the sheriff, but we did talk about it. We didn't hunt that pond anymore that year, but did hunt it a few times the next without incident.
