Elmer Fudd stories from the 2025 season?

A group of five of us headed 12 miles into the backcountry, three elk tags in hand. We had a good line of horse tracks in the trail so we expected some company. Opening morning we headed out and quickly picked up some bugles. We located the source and made a plan to approach from above and down wind. As we were heading up the backside of the hill, we heard the distinct sound a hoochie mamma coming from a small valley between the hill we were on and the one the bull was on. As we topped the hill, we spotted a cow in a small field between the hillside and an orange hat near the bottom of our hillside. The guy appeared to be alone rocking a badlands day pack. Not sure how he was going to get an elk out, but I guess he would have dragged his horses a couple miles off trail. We were lighting the bull up with bugles and cow calls and were expecting the bull to come down into the field. Had it done so we would have waited for that guy to shot or not as it appears he had been sitting there all morning. However the bull hung up on the far hillside, which he had zero line of sight on because he was at the bottom and both hills were heavily wooded. Our bugler pushed forward and around the backside of out hillside while we got our first shorter ready if the elk popped out into an opening on the far hill. I am pretty sure the Fudd saw our caller and got pissed. He fired two shots in quick succession. Not knowing what he could or could not see, I swung my binos over to where he was. His head was down, looking at the ground dejected. He picked up his bandlands pack and turned and walked off the hill. Pretty sure he just fired in anger.
 
Forkasauras said:
A group of five of us headed 12 miles into the backcountry, three elk tags in hand. We had a good line of horse tracks in the trail so we expected some company. Opening morning we headed out and quickly picked up some bugles. We located the source and made a plan to approach from above and down wind. As we were heading up the backside of the hill, we heard the distinct sound a hoochie mamma coming from a small valley between the hill we were on and the one the bull was on. As we topped the hill, we spotted a cow in a small field between the hillside and an orange hat near the bottom of our hillside. The guy appeared to be alone rocking a badlands day pack. Not sure how he was going to get an elk out, but I guess he would have dragged his horses a couple miles off trail. We were lighting the bull up with bugles and cow calls and were expecting the bull to come down into the field. Had it done so we would have waited for that guy to shot or not as it appears he had been sitting there all morning. However the bull hung up on the far hillside, which he had zero line of sight on because he was at the bottom and both hills were heavily wooded. Our bugler pushed forward and around the backside of out hillside while we got our first shorter ready if the elk popped out into an opening on the far hill. I am pretty sure the Fudd saw our caller and got pissed. He fired two shots in quick succession. Not knowing what he could or could not see, I swung my binos over to where he was. His head was down, looking at the ground dejected. He picked up his bandlands pack and turned and walked off the hill. Pretty sure he just fired in anger.
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He probably has a fudd story about how he put a bull to bed the night before opening day and planned to hunt the valley he thought it would feed down into when five idiots surrounded him blowing crappy bugles and he missed the bull taking a less-than-perfect shot because those other morons were going to blow up the whole drainage if he waited much longer.
 
Wasn't 2025 but years ago when I was but a wee lad . My dad, his buddy and son and myself were elk hunting on the edge of the Frank Church. We had gotten back from a morning hunt and the dads sent us off on our Trail 90's for the afternoon. We were terrorizing the area as twelve year olds do when we happened across Elmer himself walking down the road. Red and black buffalo plaid jacket, orange hat, the whole 9 yards. He looked like he wanted to talk, so we stopped. We asked him if he had seen anything, to which he replied "It's a damn shame you can't shoot any of those doe elk". I piped back, "you mean cow?" He gave us the indignant look of a 50 year old being corrected by a couple of punks. He said " No, I know the difference between elk and cows, these were definitely elk". We just smiled and said good luck. I still laugh about it to this day.
 
intunegp said:
He probably has a fudd story about how he put a bull to bed the night before opening day and planned to hunt the valley he thought it would feed down into when five idiots surrounded him blowing crappy bugles and he missed the bull taking a less-than-perfect shot because those other morons were going to blow up the whole drainage if he waited much longer.
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I'm so sorry we got the better position on that bull. You should have walked up the hill, or shot the cow. ;)
 
In NM the fudd's are always, "daaaamn bro where you cache dat one at? Hell ya, Hell ya, mi cussin cached a nice beeg juan las nigh on da highway, we probly goin updere tonight!"

I've heard that one hundreds of times
 
Forkasauras said:
I'm so sorry we got the better position on that bull. You should have walked up the hill, or shot the cow. ;)
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Wasn't me pal, I would have shot the cow before you boys ever crested the ridge :ROFLMAO:

My point was that most of these stories could be told from the other guy's perspective and sound totally different.

You admittedly walked into an area that was already occupied by another hunter, who had elk around him, and proceeded to continue to call and push and blow up his hunt and you're calling him a fudd because of his backpack and Hoochie Mama...I know you're billy badass but it sounds like you were the bad guys in this situation even if you killed the bull.

Usually these stories are about someone blowing up the storyteller's hunt by being ignorant...you guys blew up someone else's hunt on purpose and made fun of him for it.
 
Years back I was hunting turkeys in the Black Hills. Had a few roosted the evening before and set up on them the following morning. They flew down according to plan, coming in and gobbling their heads off. Two hunters popped out right behind me, looked at me, and continued on pass to where the gobblers were. They were only 60-70 yards away at that point, so no turkeys for anyone.
 
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