I was watching a show on the outdoor channel last night and one of those "influencers" had a show where he screwed up about a dozen different ways before eating tag soup. I was impressed that he edited and aired a show where he looked so human. I thought it might make for in interesting Rokslide thread. What was an experience that humbled you in the outdoors?
I thought about discussing my first western hunt where the vast distances were a lot for this eastern hardwoods white-tail hunter to overcome. But for my submission I don't know that I can beat my first year white-tail hunting in Wisconsin. I had just barely had my 12th birthday before season opened so I was able to participate in the annual tradition that is the WI 9-day gun season. I was sitting with my dad on an oak ridge that looked down over a small bench before dropping down into a pine swamp. The morning passed pretty quietly and it was a warm opener. A little after noon my dad decided to take a nap. He laid down on a popple tree that was half uprooted and leaning at about a 45 degree angle. Enough to relax but not laid full out. After an hour or so I noticed that a small forkhorn had materialized on the bench in front of us. He was slowly searching for acorns while I brought my gun up and took it off safety. My dad woke to the report of my .243 in time to see the deer high tail it over the far ridge. It was a small enough 4-pint that he didn't even realize it was a buck until I told him.
He figured the deer looked to be running pretty well when he saw it but told me that we'd better check for blood. I went down to where the buck had been standing when I shot. No blood. "What are you doing?" dad asked.
"Looking for blood."
"THAT'S WHERE HE WAS STANDING????"
"Yep"
We found the running track and confirmed what dad already knew. I never touched a hair.
We went back to the blow-down popple and dad stretched back out. We sat in silence for a while. "What do you think you did wrong?" Dad asked.
"You know, I think I forgot to aim." Buck fever humbled me right from the start.
I thought about discussing my first western hunt where the vast distances were a lot for this eastern hardwoods white-tail hunter to overcome. But for my submission I don't know that I can beat my first year white-tail hunting in Wisconsin. I had just barely had my 12th birthday before season opened so I was able to participate in the annual tradition that is the WI 9-day gun season. I was sitting with my dad on an oak ridge that looked down over a small bench before dropping down into a pine swamp. The morning passed pretty quietly and it was a warm opener. A little after noon my dad decided to take a nap. He laid down on a popple tree that was half uprooted and leaning at about a 45 degree angle. Enough to relax but not laid full out. After an hour or so I noticed that a small forkhorn had materialized on the bench in front of us. He was slowly searching for acorns while I brought my gun up and took it off safety. My dad woke to the report of my .243 in time to see the deer high tail it over the far ridge. It was a small enough 4-pint that he didn't even realize it was a buck until I told him.
He figured the deer looked to be running pretty well when he saw it but told me that we'd better check for blood. I went down to where the buck had been standing when I shot. No blood. "What are you doing?" dad asked.
"Looking for blood."
"THAT'S WHERE HE WAS STANDING????"
"Yep"
We found the running track and confirmed what dad already knew. I never touched a hair.
We went back to the blow-down popple and dad stretched back out. We sat in silence for a while. "What do you think you did wrong?" Dad asked.
"You know, I think I forgot to aim." Buck fever humbled me right from the start.