Creepy experiences in the backcountry

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.
 
Not creepy, but a cool story..

One time I was dove hunting in a field and had 2 low-flying Apache helicopters appear out of nowhere above me. They circled above me low enough that the pilots and I exchanged waves, and then they left from the same direction they had appeared. I am convinced they had seen me with thermal or IR and decided to come sneak up on me.
 
scp said:
Recently watched a movie available on Amazon Prime Video called Missing 411-The Hunted. It is about a series of unexplained missing hunter stories from different areas in the US. It was actually pretty good...and a little creepy. Based on a book from a series of missing person stories by investigative author Dave Paulides. He is a former police detective and has researched hundreds and hundreds of missing person cases in depth. I was googling each of the missing hunter stories as I was watching the movie and they are all bona fide unsolved cases. If you’re a twitchy person when it comes to stuff like this, I don’t recommend watching it until after your upcoming solo hunt...
Click to expand...
Just started watching it. Very interesting
 
This story is similar to quite a few that were posted on here a few years back.

I was in the backcountry elk hunting with a friend. It was late and and the sun had gone down about an hour before. We had shot a couple of grouse during the day, and he was talking to me as I built a fire to cook them. He pauses mid-sentence and says "WHAT THE F--- IS THAT?"

My friend does not curse often, and that combined with the fear I heard in his voice instantly sent my mind spiraling; coyote, bear, mountain lion, bigfoot, etc....

I turn and see him pointing up in the sky at a string of lights that was moving vertically from the horizon. This was shortly after the Star Link satellites started getting launched and luckily I had seen some videos online to be able to identify it quickly. My friend had not seen such videos and I can only imagine what went through his mind; UFOs, aliens, an attack.

We still get a good laugh about it.
 
Grand Passage said:
This story is similar to quite a few that were posted on here a few years back.

I was in the backcountry elk hunting with a friend. It was late and and the sun had gone down about an hour before. We had shot a couple of grouse during the day, and he was talking to me as I built a fire to cook them. He pauses mid-sentence and says "WHAT THE F--- IS THAT?"

My friend does not curse often, and that combined with the fear I heard in his voice instantly sent my mind spiraling; coyote, bear, mountain lion, bigfoot, etc....

I turn and see him pointing up in the sky at a string of lights that was moving vertically from the horizon. This was shortly after the Star Link satellites started getting launched and luckily I had seen some videos online to be able to identify it quickly. My friend had not seen such videos and I can only imagine what went through his mind; UFOs, aliens, an attack.

We still get a good laugh about it.
Click to expand...

A buddy and me were at my cabin either summer or fall of 2020 and sitting out on my deck a little after midnight with a good buzz going and saw them. Weird part was that they disappeared as they hit a certain point (happened to correspond to the north star pretty closely though never did think that was necessarily relevant).

We debated back and forth on some type of UFO type deal or military aircraft going on some type of bombing run, the point of lights off would have plausibly corresponded with the Canadian border. It was quite some time later, months if not a year, that we learned what it was that we saw.
 
Grand Passage said:
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.
Click to expand...
Well…don’t leave us hanging!
 
CaribooBC said:
After reading the many stories from down south….. I really wish we had the opportunity to wilderness carry our handguns. There have been a couple of times I would have felt much more at ease with my 10 mm at my side. Too bad we only get to shoot and carry handguns at approved ranges. Even my 9 mm Jericho would make me feel better some days. Maybe Trump is right…… we need to become the 51st state…. Did I really just type that….LOL.
Click to expand...
Yeah the handgun laws are absolutely stupid in Canada (I'm in Ontario). Concealed in a city is another conversation (and I have no problem with it) but how is open carry in a rural or wild area different from carrying a rifle? Target practice with a centre fire rifle on Crown land is generally legal if done in safe circumstances, but having even a 22 pistol for plinking would land you in jail. The former takes a lot more care to do safely.
 
Tim Sundles of Buffalo Bore has been talking about wanting to kill a dogman on his YouTube channel. Maybe he could help you out.
 
Bittereinder said:
Yeah the handgun laws are absolutely stupid in Canada (I'm in Ontario). Concealed in a city is another conversation (and I have no problem with it) but how is open carry in a rural or wild area different from carrying a rifle? Target practice with a centre fire rifle on Crown land is generally legal if done in safe circumstances, but having even a 22 pistol for plinking would land you in jail. The former takes a lot more care to do safely.
Click to expand...
I would love to use my Ruger Mk IV for grouse hunting.
 
New member here saying howdy and to tell one of the weirdest things to happen while out hunting.
I’ve been reading and lurking and want to say thank you all for the tips and advice that’s helping me plan a hunt with my son and decide to register and tell one of my experiences as another way of thanks.

A bit about me first: I came to the USA full-time in 1991 after being raised in Poland due to my parents' careers. I'm a dual citizen with passports for both countries, but I consider myself 110% American. We visited the States often growing up to see family and buy things that weren't available back home.

In 1998, as soon as I was old enough, I joined the Marines and served 20 years—half enlisted, then commissioned as an officer. I retired as a Captain, then worked a few years as a contractor. I've been deployed to Iraq, Afghanistan, parts of Africa, and Haiti (literally hell on earth). I have creepy stories from all those places, but they're not for this thread.

I've hunted all over the U.S. (including Alaska), way up north in Canada for moose, boars in Europe, and more. At 15, my father and I hiked the entire Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. I'd take leave to disappear into the mountains or high desert for a week at a time. The backcountry and outdoors don't faze me much—it's the two-legged predators that worry me most, as others here have said.

With that out of the way, here's the creepy part:

After one deployment, I took leave and went hunting in Montana with a buddy who lives there. We used Zortman, MT, as our base and headed into the Missouri River Breaks (outside the national park, about 50+ miles from anything resembling a town) for a week of antelope hunting.

We set up our first camp, took care of the horses and the one mule his family loaned us, and sat around the fire with cigars, planning the week. We talked about a promising draw on the maps that looked like a good day's ride. To supplement our food, we brought 12-gauge shotguns (one side-by-side, one over/under) for birds or small game.

Our firearms: I had a 25-06 rifle, he had an old 30-06. We both carried .44 Magnum wheelguns, plus a Ruger SP101 in .357 and a lever-action in the same caliber packed in a blanket roll on the mule (his dad insisted on sneaking that in).

The first few days were peaceful—great wind, endless views, no one shooting at us (lol), plenty of sign, and antelope in the distance. We weren't in a rush, so we just relaxed and enjoyed decompressing.

Day four started normally. We loaded up, shot a bearing from the maps, and rode out to where we'd picket the animals and walk in.

As we got close, we noticed signs of an old ranch: low stone wall remnants, posts, bits of a cabin. We love history, so we decided the mile or two difference in campsite wouldn't matter (famous last words).

We dismounted and spent the morning exploring: corral, more stone fencing, another outbuilding, lots of charred wood. Digging around, we found .44-40 shell casings and a few arrowheads (slightly larger than bird points).

That afternoon, we both filled our tags and hiked back to camp. We'd been so caught up in the old site that we hadn't set up the tent or unpacked the cook kit. Under a full moon with wind howling, we struggled to get everything sorted. We were exhausted, secured the meat, and crashed hard.

At sunrise the next morning, we woke to what sounded like the end of the world: screaming, gunfire, thundering horses about to trample us.

We bolted out of the tent, guns ready, crouched defensively, and rushed to the horses. Nothing. No dust, no people, no horses—only the wind rustling the grass.

The horses and mule were freaking out—snorting, stomping in the brush corral we'd made. We calmed them down, looked at each other, and just said, "WTF?!"

We did a grid search around camp for tracks, marks, anything. Zilch.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Back in civilization, we told an old local rancher (born and raised there, probably a year or two younger than dirt) what we'd heard. He said when he was young, he heard stories about a homestead in that area attacked by the Sioux back when the land was still wild. The Sioux didn't like white encroachment and hit at sunrise—believing if you're killed at night, your spirit wanders lost forever.

They took scalps, burned the buildings, and stole the animals. It was a family of six plus a few hands and a circuit-riding preacher. After missed services, others rode out and found the scene. The family was buried on a cliff overlooking the river (we never found any graves).

Was it a residual replay of that event? An auditory hallucination we both shared (including the animals reacting)? No idea. But it was the craziest thing I've experienced while hunting stateside.

I've had other wild stuff overseas (possible djinn encounters, etc.) and while camping, but this one stands out.

Anyone else had similar experiences in the Breaks or old homestead sites?
 
Kornet said:
New member here saying howdy and to tell one of the weirdest things to happen while out hunting.
I’ve been reading and lurking and want to say thank you all for the tips and advice that’s helping me plan a hunt with my son and decide to register and tell one of my experiences as another way of thanks.

A bit about me first: I came to the USA full-time in 1991 after being raised in Poland due to my parents' careers. I'm a dual citizen with passports for both countries, but I consider myself 110% American. We visited the States often growing up to see family and buy things that weren't available back home.

In 1998, as soon as I was old enough, I joined the Marines and served 20 years—half enlisted, then commissioned as an officer. I retired as a Captain, then worked a few years as a contractor. I've been deployed to Iraq, Afghanistan, parts of Africa, and Haiti (literally hell on earth). I have creepy stories from all those places, but they're not for this thread.

I've hunted all over the U.S. (including Alaska), way up north in Canada for moose, boars in Europe, and more. At 15, my father and I hiked the entire Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine. I'd take leave to disappear into the mountains or high desert for a week at a time. The backcountry and outdoors don't faze me much—it's the two-legged predators that worry me most, as others here have said.

With that out of the way, here's the creepy part:

After one deployment, I took leave and went hunting in Montana with a buddy who lives there. We used Zortman, MT, as our base and headed into the Missouri River Breaks (outside the national park, about 50+ miles from anything resembling a town) for a week of antelope hunting.

We set up our first camp, took care of the horses and the one mule his family loaned us, and sat around the fire with cigars, planning the week. We talked about a promising draw on the maps that looked like a good day's ride. To supplement our food, we brought 12-gauge shotguns (one side-by-side, one over/under) for birds or small game.

Our firearms: I had a 25-06 rifle, he had an old 30-06. We both carried .44 Magnum wheelguns, plus a Ruger SP101 in .357 and a lever-action in the same caliber packed in a blanket roll on the mule (his dad insisted on sneaking that in).

The first few days were peaceful—great wind, endless views, no one shooting at us (lol), plenty of sign, and antelope in the distance. We weren't in a rush, so we just relaxed and enjoyed decompressing.

Day four started normally. We loaded up, shot a bearing from the maps, and rode out to where we'd picket the animals and walk in.

As we got close, we noticed signs of an old ranch: low stone wall remnants, posts, bits of a cabin. We love history, so we decided the mile or two difference in campsite wouldn't matter (famous last words).

We dismounted and spent the morning exploring: corral, more stone fencing, another outbuilding, lots of charred wood. Digging around, we found .44-40 shell casings and a few arrowheads (slightly larger than bird points).

That afternoon, we both filled our tags and hiked back to camp. We'd been so caught up in the old site that we hadn't set up the tent or unpacked the cook kit. Under a full moon with wind howling, we struggled to get everything sorted. We were exhausted, secured the meat, and crashed hard.

At sunrise the next morning, we woke to what sounded like the end of the world: screaming, gunfire, thundering horses about to trample us.

We bolted out of the tent, guns ready, crouched defensively, and rushed to the horses. Nothing. No dust, no people, no horses—only the wind rustling the grass.

The horses and mule were freaking out—snorting, stomping in the brush corral we'd made. We calmed them down, looked at each other, and just said, "WTF?!"

We did a grid search around camp for tracks, marks, anything. Zilch.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Back in civilization, we told an old local rancher (born and raised there, probably a year or two younger than dirt) what we'd heard. He said when he was young, he heard stories about a homestead in that area attacked by the Sioux back when the land was still wild. The Sioux didn't like white encroachment and hit at sunrise—believing if you're killed at night, your spirit wanders lost forever.

They took scalps, burned the buildings, and stole the animals. It was a family of six plus a few hands and a circuit-riding preacher. After missed services, others rode out and found the scene. The family was buried on a cliff overlooking the river (we never found any graves).

Was it a residual replay of that event? An auditory hallucination we both shared (including the animals reacting)? No idea. But it was the craziest thing I've experienced while hunting stateside.

I've had other wild stuff overseas (possible djinn encounters, etc.) and while camping, but this one stands out.

Anyone else had similar experiences in the Breaks or old homestead sites?
Click to expand...
Man that’s a dinger. Well written too!
 
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