When a Controlled Hunt Turns ****** by RH

[RidgeHunter]

So there I was at MCAAP with 300 other stickbow-toting nutjobs chasing skinny deer with large antlers around fifty thousand acres of bomb plant. Friday morning my original stand site is not doing it for me; I ran out of scouting time and pretty much just threw it up in a tree on a planted firebreak with plans to move it at midday Friday. So I go scouting again and find some good sign, but not good trees. If you've ever hunted MCAAP you know some of the best areas do not have trees conducive to getting a stand in them, or they have bad wind, etc.

Often times if you see a good tree from a ways off you walk up to it to discover that it has already been trimmed and someone else has hunted it a prior weekend. My buddy gave me a line on a good trail running by some persimmons, so I look and see from a good distance there is one tree big enough to put a stand in, and it even has good cover. I'd been running into trail markers and gotdamn scent wicks all weekend. Ugh. People, pack it in you pack it the fawk out, you slobs. I notice a water bottle under the stand. Of course. Idiots.

No matter. I got good wind and I got good cover. Let's get to work. I'm all around the base of the tree with my exendable pole saw removing some brush and whatnot so I can get my climbing sticks on this tree. That's when it hits me. Man, this wood I'm sawing smells like ****. Ever cut a tree and the friction/heat makes a weird aroma rise? Yeah, that's what this was. Anyways, back to work. Man, this wood fawking stinks. I finish with the saw and I'm about brought to my knees by this smell. What the fawk kind of wood is this? I go to grab my sticks and look down at my pants and that's when I see it. Yep. ****. Poop. Dookey. Feces. I’m ankle deep in a big fat pile of runny human defecation. The water bottle-dropping waterhead had apparently also dropped a big, runny **** from 16 feet above the southern Oklahoma soil. I had been dragging brush through it and rubbing the brush against my legs while dragging it away. The airbob soles of my trusty Danners were packed. It was bad, guys. Lesser men would have cried.

I attempted to clean myself with scent-free soap and some paper towels in a puddle on the side of the road. Dejected and feeling shat upon by life, my fellow hunters, and the very woods I find solace in, I slapped the stand up in another tree. I never saw a good buck from stand. My hunting partners did. It was not my weekend. I came home early on Saturday night. The pants rode in the back of my truck. I was experiencing what you might call “very low morale” regarding the hunt I looked forward too so.

I think Mr. Starry needs to add one more rule to his speech. They run 300 hunters a weekend through that place. Don’t **** where he next guy might try to eat.

To paraphrase the famous last line of Norman Maclean’s A River Runs Through it, which I read for the third or twentieth time on stand the next day – I am haunted by shitters.

 

[Shadowrider]

Well $h!t...

 

[justin_h635]

 

[shootermcgavin]

Hahahaha. Very well written story. I feel your pain. That sucks. But you did a good job retelling it. I was laughing pretty good.

In my limited experiences though, I wouldn't say the crap hitting the soil is the worst thing for your hunt. It hitting your pants is just sad for you though. Last year I was in my stand 24 seconds before realizing I had another 36 seconds before crap would be shooting out faster than the Japanese bullet train. I made it 15 yards behind my stand and that's where I left it. I just knew my hunt was screwed, but I waited for daylight to see what happened anyways. 5 minutes later and 20 minutes before shooting hours I hear the leaves on the ground start moving. I could see a buck (and it the full moon light he looked like a shooter) come out of the woods 60 yards away and made a straight walk directly toward my crap. He stopped at the steam pile for about 10 to 15 seconds smelling around before moving on, hopping the fence onto neighboring property and moving on his way, never with any signs of fear.

I'm not saying I'd rub down in it and go native with a hunt or even deliberately use it for scent, but it being nearby isn't necessarily a bad thing. Some deer are just to curious.

 

[Okie4570]

If this was on Deer Creek...........sorry brother, though it made it all the way to the ground, but I guess it didn't.

In all seriousness though, we were there a couple weeks before, zero trash or signs of human trespass. Sorry about your encounter, but only you can tell story so well. You probably never guessed you'd have to be vaccinated like an EMT to go on a trad hunt, just in case you encountered someone else crap!

 

[justin_h635]

Did the pile have persimmons seeds in it? I bet someone got a ripe one.

 

[Oklahomabassin]

Still wet a week later. Did you have to go in the tree and then get it all over you getting down?

 

[justin_h635]

This whole story (especially the part about the 16' drop off) suddenly brings back my earliest memory of hilarity that I can recall.

As a 3rd grader in elementarty school, you had set bathroom breaks where the teacher took the class down the hall to do their business. Obviously, you just don't let 12-15 3rd graders go in at once so our old hag of a teacher (who reminds me of a Sleestak with a wig) would make us form lines (girls and boys) and then send us in 3 or 4 at a time to each respective bathroom. I can remember going in with a group of boys and hitting the urinals when suddenly from inside the row of stalls I hear the hollering of "Parapoops!!). Obviously done by now, a couple of us ran to the commotion to see an obvious troubled classmate standing on the rim of the toilet trying to drop off chocolate hotdogs off the high dive while continually yelling Parapoops! in the process. Of course we started laughing hystarically and then the commotion was heard outside the door where the others were standing causing line-bound school boys to ditch the hag and run into seeing what the laughter was about. At this point (and all in a matter of seconds) the kid was literally doing it while startled kids watched in amazement and laughter. Needless to say the hag wasn't afraid to get in the raucous because she walks in through the now growing crowd of kiddos and grabs his elbow while he was on his 10th echo of "Parapoops" and in the middle of dropping off some soft serve.

I am still not sure if she knew what was going on because even as a 3rd grader I would have been smart enough to let him finish before dethroning him however she yanks him from his from his perch while mid-torpedo. He obviously missed his aim at that point leaving half of it on the front of the seat and the other half on the floor and toe of her shoe. I think it was at that very moment she realized what was being done cause she went from getting wound up to bust his bare skin to suddenly halting mid swipe electing rather to let him get wiped before the beating. As the carnage hit the floor all of the boys who gathered around shot out of that jon like a rocket and to this day it was the earliest , funniest thing that my old memory can recollect. Thanks to the OP for bringing it back to the top of my head for laughing at it once again. I don't know what was funniest, seeing the look on his face when the teacher walked into the stall, the doo on the rim and shoe or just the thought that an unprovoked kid would attempt such a feat.

 

[r00s7a]

...our old hag of a teacher (who reminds me of a Sleestak with a wig)

Man, no one in my office ever gets it when I make a Sleestak reference. I give you a thumbs up.

 

[EFsDad]

Man, no one in my office ever gets it when I make a Sleestak reference. I give you a thumbs up.

To RH,

At least you got to go!!!

Signed,

Nopoop but Jealous