I forgot all about this one. I may get bleeped but here goes anyway.

Every hunting camp usually has one hunter that "everything happens to"
Well, our camp has one of those guys and he is also my best friend. We'll call him Carl.

A few of the things that have happened to Carl are:

1) Opening morning, Carl let me out at my stand then drove on to his stand to hunt. 45 minutes later, with the sun coming up, Carl drives right back within 15' of my stand to camp to get his bullets. He forgot to load his gun, then discovered he forgot his bullets. Scared a big buck at my feeder.

2) Carl was showing everyone at camp his new $50 duck call, and while practising his calling, it slipped out of his hands and into the campfire. So long-

3) Three years ago Carl shot a doe the last week-end of season. He put his stuff down to clean it and drug it up to the road. Later. he couldn't remember where he shot it, but I'm sure the cell phone he left at the kill site rang until the battery gave out. I found it two years later.

4) When Carl and I hunted a new lease one year, I put my stand and feeder up in a great location. Two weeks later Carl went out and put up his stand and feeder in a great location. We left camp in different vehicles opening morning. I climbed up in my stand early before first light.
About 10 minutes before light, someone with a flashlight beam walks up 50 yards from my stand, and climbs up into their stand....Guess who it was?

There have been many many other situations he's gotten himself into. Fell out of a tree and broke his arm, Dropped his gun while climbing up a 15' elevated stand. But I saved the best for last.

5) After an all night poker game with a couple of fresh bottles of scotch and 5 dozen home made tamales, we left to go to our stands early in the morning. Carl didn't look too good!
By 10:00 in the morning most of us were back at camp. All but Carl. Seems he got one of those thunderous stomach aches, that will only stop by one action. Since he had deer in front of him all morning and he felt awful, Carl waited too long, and unloaded before he could get his coveralls and jeans off. Since he was pretty dirty and his clothes were finished, he took everything off from the waste down and walked back to camp with not a stich on below the belt. I never laughed so hard in my life.
There were no women in camp, after all,Carl is still a gentleman.

Here's to next season!

ROFLMAO....

Poor Carl. Nearly every camp has a Carl, though the original posted by TPV would be hard to top!

Whew! Thank goodness my name isn't Carl! :D

Hey, Tom - Check your email!

Ken

Whew! Thank goodness my name isn't Carl! :D

Hey, Tom - Check your email!

Ken

Got it!

By the way, there's dozens of stories about this guy. and there all true, - didn't want to bore everyone with the rest of them.
Going up Saturday to secure some feeders. Suppose to snow tonight

Tom

Stories are what this forum is for, Tom!

Post any and all you care to.

Yup, Daughter and Grandson called this morning form Frisco - had about 2 1/2" of good firm snow to make snowangels and snow bunnies out of - 5 yr old grandson kept telling his Mom - "Ho, Ho, Ho - Don't eat the yellow snow!" A little ditty his Grandpa taught him! :D

Stories are what this forum is for, Tom!

Post any and all you care to.

Yup, Daughter and Grandson called this morning form Frisco - had about 2 1/2" of good firm snow to make snowangels and snow bunnies out of - 5 yr old grandson kept telling his Mom - "Ho, Ho, Ho - Don't eat the yellow snow!" A little ditty his Grandpa taught him! :D
Yea,
My wife and I took our grandson and his parents to Bass Pro today once the snow cleared.They've got a pretty good restaurant. Just wish some of those young sales types with the trimmed beards knew something about what they sold.
Got him a Snoopy Rod&Reel though
Tom

We had a Carl (and that was his name) in our club. He was notorious for getting lost and getting his vehicles stuck. One season, Carl decided to have a muzzle break put on his 270 (he had a terrible flinch and figured taming the recoil would help). His groups improved when we were zeroing our rifles before deer season. However, I couldn't stand to be next to his rifle when he shot. Even with ear-muffs and plugs, the blast was uncomfortable.

Well opening day arrived (Aug 15th in South Carolina) and we went hunting. I dropped him off at his stand (a Texas Tower with a roof and walls) and I went to my stand about 800 yds away. We were hunting on beanfields where we had fairly long shots. We also can shoot until 1 hour after legal sunset, so we use large objective scopes, etc. Anyway, about 30 minutes after sunset, I hear Carl shoot. When it was too dark to hunt, I got out of my stand and went to pick him up. I was startled when I pulled up to his stand and found him at the bottom, sitting on the first step, bent over with his head in his hands. I jumped out of the truck and ran over to him.

I asked, "Carl, you OK?
In a very loud voice he says, "Huh??"
I said, "Carl, ARE YOU OK?"
He said, "NO!"
I said, "Are you hurt?"
He said, "Not really."
I asked, "Whats wrong?"
He said, "Everything."
So, I asked, "Did you get one?"
He said, "I don't know."
So, I asked, "What do you mean you don't know?"
He said, "I don't know. A deer walked out and I shot."
So, I said, "and???"
He said, "All I know is that there was a bright flash and now I can't hear. Oh, do you see my rifle?"

Here's what happened - A nice deer came out in the field about 100yds away. Easy shot. Carl thumbs the safety off and breaks the shot. The flash from the muzzle-break blinded him and the blast/concussion reverberated in the stand, almost deafening him (he said his ears rang for about 3 days). I guess it was like someone had thrown a flash-bang in the stand with him. It got him so bad that he dropped the rifle out of the stand when he shot. He said it took about 5 minutes for him to get to where he could see to get out of the stand. As he was telling me what happened, I was in tears laughing. I found his rifle at the base of the stand - no significant damage. He did get a nice deer and he sold the rifle the following week. That was about 8 years ago and I can still picture Carl in my headlights at the bottom of the stand as I was pulling up to get him. It was a riot.....

Jack

We had a Carl (and that was his name) in our club. He was notorious for getting lost and getting his vehicles stuck. One season, Carl decided to have a muzzle break put on his 270 (he had a terrible flinch and figured taming the recoil would help). His groups improved when we were zeroing our rifles before deer season. However, I couldn't stand to be next to his rifle when he shot. Even with ear-muffs and plugs, the blast was uncomfortable.

Well opening day arrived (Aug 15th in South Carolina) and we went hunting. I dropped him off at his stand (a Texas Tower with a roof and walls) and I went to my stand about 800 yds away. We were hunting on beanfields where we had fairly long shots. We also can shoot until 1 hour after legal sunset, so we use large objective scopes, etc. Anyway, about 30 minutes after sunset, I hear Carl shoot. When it was too dark to hunt, I got out of my stand and went to pick him up. I was startled when I pulled up to his stand and found him at the bottom, sitting on the first step, bent over with his head in his hands. I jumped out of the truck and ran over to him.

I asked, "Carl, you OK?
In a very loud voice he says, "Huh??"
I said, "Carl, ARE YOU OK?"
He said, "NO!"
I said, "Are you hurt?"
He said, "Not really."
I asked, "Whats wrong?"
He said, "Everything."
So, I asked, "Did you get one?"
He said, "I don't know."
So, I asked, "What do you mean you don't know?"
He said, "I don't know. A deer walked out and I shot."
So, I said, "and???"
He said, "All I know is that there was a bright flash and now I can't hear. Oh, do you see my rifle?"

Here's what happened - A nice deer came out in the field about 100yds away. Easy shot. Carl thumbs the safety off and breaks the shot. The flash from the muzzle-break blinded him and the blast/concussion reverberated in the stand, almost deafening him (he said his ears rang for about 3 days). I guess it was like someone had thrown a flash-bang in the stand with him. It got him so bad that he dropped the rifle out of the stand when he shot. He said it took about 5 minutes for him to get to where he could see to get out of the stand. As he was telling me what happened, I was in tears laughing. I found his rifle at the base of the stand - no significant damage. He did get a nice deer and he sold the rifle the following week. That was about 8 years ago and I can still picture Carl in my headlights at the bottom of the stand as I was pulling up to get him. It was a riot.....

Jack

That was great-

Half of the reason I go hunting each season is to burn that first log on opening week-end and see what Carl is going to say next.

Makes life worth living.
Tom

20 or so years ago, my deceased brother (who was one of those natural hard luck persons) and I were invited down to Rock Springs, Tx for a deer hunt. The evening of arrival a half dozen of us hunters gathered around the traditional Texas campfire ring in the front of the lodge and enjoyed generous portions of various libations while the steaks sizzled on the mesquite fire coals and the potatoes roasted. By the time the meal was over and an hour or so of tall tale telling everyone seemed to be beyond pain or any sort. Not wanting to strike out the next morning by myself, I suggested we take a stroll out to the highway and back to work some of the effects off. All thought this a marvelous idea, so off we went in the pitch black night trying to follow the two-track ranch trail out to the highway. Did I mention how dark it was?

We had gone maybe a 1/4 mile, stumbling and tripping over the uneven caliche trail when suddenly there was a loud "whump" sound. Walking a little further, someone counted noses and thought one of the group was missing. Backtracking, we almost fell over a prostrate form lying in the trail, face down andflailing about in a swimming motion. It was my brother, snockered and unable to regain his footing.

Someone struck a match when we got him on his feet - Boy, what a mess! Looked like he'd been sacking wildcats using his face only! He assured us he was OK, just a little embarrassed over the spill.

We continued toward the highway, and reaching it, decided to continue along the berm (deserted highway at that time of night) for a ways to extend the hike, which we did.

Suddenly, headlights and a spotlight lit up our little party from an adjacent pull-off. Up drives a Suburban with "Border Patrol" written on it! The agents checked us out and laughed at our pitiful condition. Thought they had bagged a bunch of illegals, which are prevalent in that part of the country. Feeling kindly, they loaded us up and drove us back to camp, telling us to keep off the roads in the middle of the night.

Next morning, my brother (and others) were in no physical condition to hunt. He had stiffened up from the fall and could barely hobble to the bathroom. Dried scabs and black eyes (later determined to be a broken nose) made him appear to have been the loser in a 10 rounder.

Finished my hunt in grand style with both deer and turkey tags filled. Think there was one other deer on the meat pole when we were done.

Had to fly back home from San Antonio. The airline wouldn't allow my brother to walk from the terminal front door to the plane - provided him with a wheelchair. When deplaning in Okla. City, same thing - had to be wheeled off and out to the baggage claim. Our wives met us at the airport. His wife took one look at him and almost fainted. Then she got mad and accused us of having gone honky-tonking in Mexico, instead of hunting. We both explained what really happened, but I don't think she believed us to the day she died. My wife bought into it only because I had several styrofoam boxes of meat to stuff in the freezer.

It was a long time before my Sister-in-Law would allow my brother to go hunting again with me.

20 or so years ago, my deceased brother (who was one of those natural hard luck persons) and I were invited down to Rock Springs, Tx for a deer hunt. The evening of arrival a half dozen of us hunters gathered around the traditional Texas campfire ring in the front of the lodge and enjoyed generous portions of various libations while the steaks sizzled on the mesquite fire coals and the potatoes roasted. By the time the meal was over and an hour or so of tall tale telling everyone seemed to be beyond pain or any sort. Not wanting to strike out the next morning by myself, I suggested we take a stroll out to the highway and back to work some of the effects off. All thought this a marvelous idea, so off we went in the pitch black night trying to follow the two-track ranch trail out to the highway. Did I mention how dark it was?

We had gone maybe a 1/4 mile, stumbling and tripping over the uneven caliche trail when suddenly there was a loud "whump" sound. Walking a little further, someone counted noses and thought one of the group was missing. Backtracking, we almost fell over a prostrate form lying in the trail, face down andflailing about in a swimming motion. It was my brother, snockered and unable to regain his footing.

Someone struck a match when we got him on his feet - Boy, what a mess! Looked like he'd been sacking wildcats using his face only! He assured us he was OK, just a little embarrassed over the spill.

We continued toward the highway, and reaching it, decided to continue along the berm (deserted highway at that time of night) for a ways to extend the hike, which we did.

Suddenly, headlights and a spotlight lit up our little party from an adjacent pull-off. Up drives a Suburban with "Border Patrol" written on it! The agents checked us out and laughed at our pitiful condition. Thought they had bagged a bunch of illegals, which are prevalent in that part of the country. Feeling kindly, they loaded us up and drove us back to camp, telling us to keep off the roads in the middle of the night.

Next morning, my brother (and others) were in no physical condition to hunt. He had stiffened up from the fall and could barely hobble to the bathroom. Dried scabs and black eyes (later determined to be a broken nose) made him appear to have been the loser in a 10 rounder.

Finished my hunt in grand style with both deer and turkey tags filled. Think there was one other deer on the meat pole when we were done.

Had to fly back home from San Antonio. The airline wouldn't allow my brother to walk from the terminal front door to the plane - provided him with a wheelchair. When deplaning in Okla. City, same thing - had to be wheeled off and out to the baggage claim. Our wives met us at the airport. His wife took one look at him and almost fainted. Then she got mad and accused us of having gone honky-tonking in Mexico, instead of hunting. We both explained what really happened, but I don't think she believed us to the day she died. My wife bought into it only because I had several styrofoam boxes of meat to stuff in the freezer.

It was a long time before my Sister-in-Law would allow my brother to go hunting again with me.

Another hunter would probably be the only person to understand that situation.
You're lucky you were not deported first and questions asked later. That was funny.