Maybe not the craziest, but definitely one of the dumbest!!

A few years ago a friend and I were shooting before heading to our stands, for a afternoon hunt. We were both shooting broadheads. As we were finishing shooting and getting dressed, my friend said he needed to change one of his broadheads he'd been shooting to a freshly sharpened broadhead.

Well, he couldn't find his broadhead wrench and me being the "most patient" person said, "let me have it, I don't need no stinking wrench!!!".....bad move!. Needless to say, I felt the "sting" as my thumb slipped off the broahead. I remember saying "ouch" and "I think I cut myself". As I lifted my hand up the blood came from under the glove I had on and down my arm. I was afraid to take my glove off because I thought my thumb might still be in it. Luckily it wasn't, but I had cut the upper third of my left thumb to the point the doctors flipped the skin and thumbnail over the bone to clean it, then stitched it together. I still don't have any feeling in the top third of the thumb.

One interesting note. When I went to the ER, the attending nurse told me "maybe you got what you deserved, hunting defenseless animals!" I didn't much care for that woman!

*** ALWAYS USE A BROADHEAD WRENCH!!!!! ***

My very first trad deer, a small buck, shot from the stand, then again laid up while trailing later, then we trailed him to the wide Miss. River, where he had jumped in, then came out about 100 yards downstream. As he floundered on his side on the riprap just feet out the water, I crept up with my final arrow, hit him squarely, then threw my new BW bow on the rocks, charged up, and had to grab him from sliding back into the river, where I would lose him for sure.
It was crazy there for a minute with hooves, horns, and one broadhead going around like a buzz saw, with me holding on to one rear leg trying to stay clear, and keep us both from sliding in the river.

Took a guy on a 2 week hunt that i didn't REALLY know.

This actually happened this year. I was determined to kill a deer with my longbow. Wife said I was insane!
This particular morning I hiked nearly a mile with climber, backpack, bow and extra clothes. Arrived at a small creek that I can usually cross with my  rubber boots if I am REALLY careful. The creek enters a river near where I usually cross.

I arrive to find that the river is swelled much worse from recent rains than I would have expected and it has backfilled the small creek. It is about 6am and temperatures in the mid to upper 30s. I remember seeing some frost in the lower areas walking in. So I have two choices. Hike back or find another place to cross?

Well I hiked a short way upstream but the water is still way to deep and to go much further would put me into the thick stuff that I want to catch deer moving into and out of during the day.

So, off comes the rubber boots. Toss them across to the other side. Then off with the wool pants and longjohns and socks. Crossed the the creek, water just above my knees. Wasn't so bad when in the water but cold enough when I got out that I worried I might never be able to urinate ever again.    Wiped off the excess water with my pants and then put all my clothes back on.

It eventually got up into the 50s before the day was over and luckily climbing the tree got my blood flowing again and I did not get too cold before it warmed up. I remember sitting in the tree till it was pitch black dark hoping the water had gone down some during the day. It had not. Rinse and repeat.

Oh, I saw NOTHING the whole day.

Steve stuff like that reminds me of the stuff they made us do in the Corps. Good on you for going the distance.

I was at the hospital after have kidney stones blasted and had stints put in. My buddy and I had plans to go turkey hunting in Oklahoma and I was'nt going to let that ruin the trip. So I had him pick me up and take me to the house to load up my things. We go and I had to stop and rest and throw up about every 100 yards. On day 3 I could'nt take it anymore. Now we have been hunting buddies for 27 years and I tell Randy your gonna have to pull out these stints so I can hunt for a few more days. I talk him into it and he pulled them out. It made it better but was not real smart I might add. Could of heard me scream all the way to Kansas. I did get a turkey that trip.

i once walked waist deep through a creek in the NT to get to the boar on the other side. silly, silly thing to do. CROCODILES!

Little hard to see after 37 years but this scar is the result of an old style quickie quiver.

I was standing along a road on Skyline Mgt Area in Alabama talking to a friend who was driving by. I had one recurve tip resting on the toe of my boot and was holding the other tip with my hands while I rested or the bow like a walking stick.

As my friend left I slid my hand quickly down the bow limb to grab the grip without looking or thinking about the quickie quiver full of arrows tipped with razor sharp broadheads.

The finger in the picture was cut to the bone in a millisecond.  Fortunately the friend who was leaving saw my plight, backed up, loaded me up and drove to a local doctor to get my finger patched up.

 

I still get an old bow in my shop occasionally with one of those dang quivers attached. I always pull the quiver off and commit it to the trash immediately to prevent some unsuspecting newbie from falling victim to a handful of broadheads like I once did.

I have a a cut in my shooting glove from a razor sharp grizzly in a cat quiver.

Crawled into a hole with 7 javelina that were very upset - popping jaws, etc.  I had wounded one and was trying to get him out.  Didn't know there were 7 in the little cave.

Stepped on a copperhead and reacted instinctively without any forethought at all. I used my Howard Hill Wesley Special as a war club on the snake. Fortunately, I wasn't bitten and the bow wasn't broken. The copperhead didn't make out so good, though. The greatest lesson learned was that, with proper motivation, I have a pretty good vertical jump.

Bugled in a raghorn bull with my 86 toyota pickup truck horn. Pulled into where I was going to camp. It was muddy muddy and mud grabbed tores. spun steering wheel, hand hit horn, bull bugled off in the trees. I jumped out: bow was in back of truck, I was not geared up in anyway but got arm guard and tab on when raghorn came running out of trees: stood about 18 yrds away broadside and in the time it took me to think: He is not as big as the one I shot last year, he whirled and ran away. Never ever pass up on a gift bull. I coulda backed my truck up to him and loaded him whole.

On my very 1st traditional bow hunt I was using an old borrowed Carlton bow with quickee quiver.

I loved taking the scenic way home from work and over the time span of a couple of weeks I had been seeing a flock of turkeys moving through the same area at the same time every day,so I decided that I was going to give them a try.

I got there early, made a little hide in a weed patch by the creek. The plan was let them cross the creek and take my shot as they walked up the other side so if I missed I would be able to recover my arrow(s).

The plan was working out great!

I let 3 or 4 of them cross and start up the bank before I made my 1st shot. Dang it! I missed and not taking my eyes off the birds I pulled out the next arrow and slid it over the bow. Something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye but I was intent on making sure I never took my eyes off the birds.

I proceeded to try to nock my arrow without looking. I was getting frustrated because I couldn't find the string no matter how hard I tried.

I gave up and looked so I could get the arrow on the string before the last of the flock made it out of range.

There wasn't a string on my bow, it dawned on me what happened. In the process of getting my arrow up to the bow I ran that razor sharp broadhead across my string cutting it and what I had seen earlier was my wool string silencer flying through the air.

I was so mad I jumped up and screamed at the turkeys.

We both left the field...lol

God bless,Mudd

PS: I did retrieve my arrow and by the time I got back to my truck I was laughing about it.