What was the most challenging animal you've ever hunted?

[C.W. Richter]

An ex mother in law... She actually died before I caught up to her.

 

[nomspc]

This was Namibia, 2012:

The drive from Bernadette in Otjiwarongo to George’s farm in the mountains of the Khomas Hochland can take anywhere from 3 to 5 hours depending on the state of the roads. The highway is paved for about 20 miles outside of Windhoek, then it is unpaved roads the rest of the way. This can be a real problem during or just after the rainy season, but we found the roads to be in good repair and made good time. The elevation at Windhoek is about 5600 ft, and we gained another 1000 ft by the time we got to George’s farm.
George, his wife Rika and his kids Hans and Melanie met us with a pack of enthusiastic dogs, and we sat down to a traditional German dinner: more of the excellent Tafel beer, a dense, dark homemade bread full of grains with a thick crust, and plates of cold meats, sausages, cheeses and eggs. The whole family spoke excellent English; friendly, warm people. We were early to bed as we needed to be up and ready before sunrise.
Breakfast at 0600 was coffee and the dinner leftovers. We were in the truck on our way up the mountain at 0630. I rode in the pickup bed with the tracker, and, despite fleece jacket, gloves and hat, I was cold! The tracker wore a thin cotton jacket and seemed unconcerned with the cold. We slowly bumped our way up the mountain as the eastern horizon gradually brightened. The plan was to catch the zebras as they climbed the mountain at first light. The zebras spend the night in the valleys, drinking water, then climb the mountain and spend the days among the trees grazing. We left the truck, I loaded the 300WM with 180 grain Barnes TSX, and we started walking. George must be around 60, very thin and fit. He set a rapid pace along game trails studded with rocks and lined with thorn bushes. After about 15 minutes of up and down, he stopped suddenly, glassing the next hillside and said “Zebras! Do you see them?” I could barely see the trees over there. Finally, as he was becoming exasperated, I saw them: Small gray figures moving in the dim light. They had to be 500 yards away. He plopped down shooting sticks, and I lined up on them, but there was no way I could take that shot; even at 12X, in that poor light, with all that brush around, I couldn’t get a clear target. You would think a zebra would stand out clearly, but in the bush you can barely see them. So it was a quick hike back to the truck, and a slow ride to the next mountain, glassing continuously. I could see groups of oryx and kudu on the slopes as the sun finally came up. We spotted zebras moving on a ridgeline, so we dumped the truck and started climbing. This was a steep vertical game trail with loose rocks and thick thorn trees both lining the trail and hanging overhead. It was necessary not just to climb quickly, but to be continuously ducking and leaning to try to avoid the thorns, which ripped at my clothes and the rifle. As we cleared the trees, George stopped and pointed. I peeked over a rock and caught just a glimpse of a few zebras disappearing over the ridge. I couldn’t believe how close they were, maybe 100 yards. We continued to climb quickly, crested the ridge, and descended back into the bush on the far side. I was now sweating heavily, removed my hat and gloves and unzipped my fleece jacket. After another 10 minutes of very fast tracking, we stopped and glassed. George motioned me up on a series of flat, stepped boulders, and I saw them, 4 zebras in a small clearing directly in front of me. George whispered, “216 yards”, and I settled into a nice, supported prone position. I could see a mare and a small one, as well as two stallions, but the angles were all wrong. As the group quartered away, a fifth appeared, but I watched them melt away into the bush.
Off the rocks and into a fast trot, we climbed hard to get another look at this group. I had the rifle ready as I stumbled over rocks, trying to stay balanced and in my assigned position behind George. After a few minutes, he stopped suddenly and pointed downslope. I saw them deep in the trees maybe 100 yards below us. Jimmy was in my ear: “The big one is in the rear, wait for him”. I popped the safety off, and Jimmy again: “Don’t shoot yet, this is the baby”. I could see the little one, but all the animals were partially obstructed. I could feel the wind in my face; this is why they had not alerted. Suddenly the stallion appeared in the opening through the trees. I was trying to find the triangle, George hissed in my ear, “Shoot him!” and I broke the shot a fraction of a second too soon. I thought I was low, and they bolted at the shot and he was gone.
Rifle on safe, and we all looked at each other. “I don’t know”, I said. Jimmy said, “You hit him”. We moved down the slope, and the tracker pointed out the blood trail, and we were off. I was cursing myself for not waiting that extra half-second and praying we didn’t lose this animal. Jimmy thought that we would have had a really hard time getting him out of there; the slope was very steep and the foliage dense. The blood trail was evident even to me, although it somewhat sparse. I was sweating fiercely now as the sun was high, but could not stop to take off my jacket. Jimmy split off from the rest of us and climbed the slope, moving with us from higher up. After a while, we lost the track. The tracker and George were scanning the ground; George moved ahead, I started downslope and the tracker climbed. He relocated the trail, and we started climbing again. I thought I saw the zebra; turned out to be a log. I was really unhappy at this point, but at least we had the trail. Then Jimmy shouted; he had spotted the zebra well below us, crossing the road. We ran downhill, made the road and started scanning. The zebra popped out into a clear area and I thought, “Damn, that’s got to be 400 yards”. He was out there, seriously downhill from us and quartering away quickly considering he had an obviously broken left front leg. I cranked the scope all the way up, got on the shooting sticks, got the sling tangled in the sticks, cursed a lot, got settled, safety off, while George screamed, “Shoot him in the ass!” I ignored him, put the 400- yard dot just behind the zebra’s shoulder and pressed the trigger. When I came down from the recoil, he was gone. Jimmy asked me, “Was it a good shot?” and George said that he heard the bullet hit the zebra, which I immediately thought was hard to believe, but I wanted to believe it anyway. George had lasered the zebra at 386 yards; I figured that with the elevation change and the fact that the target was moving away, that it would have to have been some shot.
I stripped off the jacket, gulped some water. The zebra had entered a ravine and had not emerged, so Jimmy got a reference point on the far slope and we headed down into the valley. After a total of about an hour covering about 2 miles, we found him dead. The first shot was 2” below the bottom of the heart; the second shot hit him square in the lung. First thing I felt was relief, huge relief that we got him. Second thing I thought was that that was some shot. Third thing I thought was that zebras are really tough.
We looked over the zebra, at all the scars and bite marks, Jimmy said that he thought that each imperfection told a story, and that this old warrior had lived a full life. And he’s still with me:

 

[Jörg Krüger]

Very nice write-up @nomspc
Thank goodness you got the critter

 

[rafaellinne]

Brown bear in Alaska Peninsula. The problem was the weather. Lots of rain. I shot the bear on the last day

 

[PARA45]

This is not a hunting story, but a fish story.

One of my good friend's brother came back from Iraq, so my friend charter a boat out of Key Largo, FL, and he asked me if I wanted to come along. But of course I said yes!!! We were about 15-20 miles off shore and spotted a frigatebird. We were fishing for dolphin and tuna, and we are always looking for birds hitting the water, and a frigatebird is a sure bet big fish are in the water. We put line in the water, and within seconds one line gets hit; the second mate hands me the rod. Whatever hit it was peeling line regardless of how drag pressure I put on the reel, being cautions not to overdue it and snap the line. The second mate points to the left, and we see this massive fish jump out of the water, and he tells me that's your fish. Fights on, and little did I know that I had a blue marlin on the line. Mind you, this rod and reel was set up for dolphin & tuna fishing, not a big fish like this one. To make a long story short, the captain of the boat had that boat on reverse 3/4 of the time. I couldn't stop this fish, and luckily we were in only about 500' of water, otherwise he would have spooled me to never seen him again. 3 1/2 hours later, we finally landed the fish (brought it to the side of the boat, removed the hook, revived him and released him). In FL it's frown upon to keep marlins, so it's basically catch and release. The Capt estimated the fish to be in the 375 lbs range, he was huge! I sat in a corner for the the rest of the trip while everyone else caught some dolphins and tunas. I was beat up, had no energy to fight another fish, and felt it for the almost a week after. I'll have to dig the pictures, so that it won't be another "fish" story. LOL!!!!!

 

[mark-hunter]

Waterbuck and eland, Thats because covid 19 beat me to it, and safari was postopned...

 

[gesch]

This was Namibia, 2012:

The drive from Bernadette in Otjiwarongo to George’s farm in the mountains of the Khomas Hochland can take anywhere from 3 to 5 hours depending on the state of the roads. The highway is paved for about 20 miles outside of Windhoek, then it is unpaved roads the rest of the way. This can be a real problem during or just after the rainy season, but we found the roads to be in good repair and made good time. The elevation at Windhoek is about 5600 ft, and we gained another 1000 ft by the time we got to George’s farm.
George, his wife Rika and his kids Hans and Melanie met us with a pack of enthusiastic dogs, and we sat down to a traditional German dinner: more of the excellent Tafel beer, a dense, dark homemade bread full of grains with a thick crust, and plates of cold meats, sausages, cheeses and eggs. The whole family spoke excellent English; friendly, warm people. We were early to bed as we needed to be up and ready before sunrise.
Breakfast at 0600 was coffee and the dinner leftovers. We were in the truck on our way up the mountain at 0630. I rode in the pickup bed with the tracker, and, despite fleece jacket, gloves and hat, I was cold! The tracker wore a thin cotton jacket and seemed unconcerned with the cold. We slowly bumped our way up the mountain as the eastern horizon gradually brightened. The plan was to catch the zebras as they climbed the mountain at first light. The zebras spend the night in the valleys, drinking water, then climb the mountain and spend the days among the trees grazing. We left the truck, I loaded the 300WM with 180 grain Barnes TSX, and we started walking. George must be around 60, very thin and fit. He set a rapid pace along game trails studded with rocks and lined with thorn bushes. After about 15 minutes of up and down, he stopped suddenly, glassing the next hillside and said “Zebras! Do you see them?” I could barely see the trees over there. Finally, as he was becoming exasperated, I saw them: Small gray figures moving in the dim light. They had to be 500 yards away. He plopped down shooting sticks, and I lined up on them, but there was no way I could take that shot; even at 12X, in that poor light, with all that brush around, I couldn’t get a clear target. You would think a zebra would stand out clearly, but in the bush you can barely see them. So it was a quick hike back to the truck, and a slow ride to the next mountain, glassing continuously. I could see groups of oryx and kudu on the slopes as the sun finally came up. We spotted zebras moving on a ridgeline, so we dumped the truck and started climbing. This was a steep vertical game trail with loose rocks and thick thorn trees both lining the trail and hanging overhead. It was necessary not just to climb quickly, but to be continuously ducking and leaning to try to avoid the thorns, which ripped at my clothes and the rifle. As we cleared the trees, George stopped and pointed. I peeked over a rock and caught just a glimpse of a few zebras disappearing over the ridge. I couldn’t believe how close they were, maybe 100 yards. We continued to climb quickly, crested the ridge, and descended back into the bush on the far side. I was now sweating heavily, removed my hat and gloves and unzipped my fleece jacket. After another 10 minutes of very fast tracking, we stopped and glassed. George motioned me up on a series of flat, stepped boulders, and I saw them, 4 zebras in a small clearing directly in front of me. George whispered, “216 yards”, and I settled into a nice, supported prone position. I could see a mare and a small one, as well as two stallions, but the angles were all wrong. As the group quartered away, a fifth appeared, but I watched them melt away into the bush.
Off the rocks and into a fast trot, we climbed hard to get another look at this group. I had the rifle ready as I stumbled over rocks, trying to stay balanced and in my assigned position behind George. After a few minutes, he stopped suddenly and pointed downslope. I saw them deep in the trees maybe 100 yards below us. Jimmy was in my ear: “The big one is in the rear, wait for him”. I popped the safety off, and Jimmy again: “Don’t shoot yet, this is the baby”. I could see the little one, but all the animals were partially obstructed. I could feel the wind in my face; this is why they had not alerted. Suddenly the stallion appeared in the opening through the trees. I was trying to find the triangle, George hissed in my ear, “Shoot him!” and I broke the shot a fraction of a second too soon. I thought I was low, and they bolted at the shot and he was gone.
Rifle on safe, and we all looked at each other. “I don’t know”, I said. Jimmy said, “You hit him”. We moved down the slope, and the tracker pointed out the blood trail, and we were off. I was cursing myself for not waiting that extra half-second and praying we didn’t lose this animal. Jimmy thought that we would have had a really hard time getting him out of there; the slope was very steep and the foliage dense. The blood trail was evident even to me, although it somewhat sparse. I was sweating fiercely now as the sun was high, but could not stop to take off my jacket. Jimmy split off from the rest of us and climbed the slope, moving with us from higher up. After a while, we lost the track. The tracker and George were scanning the ground; George moved ahead, I started downslope and the tracker climbed. He relocated the trail, and we started climbing again. I thought I saw the zebra; turned out to be a log. I was really unhappy at this point, but at least we had the trail. Then Jimmy shouted; he had spotted the zebra well below us, crossing the road. We ran downhill, made the road and started scanning. The zebra popped out into a clear area and I thought, “Damn, that’s got to be 400 yards”. He was out there, seriously downhill from us and quartering away quickly considering he had an obviously broken left front leg. I cranked the scope all the way up, got on the shooting sticks, got the sling tangled in the sticks, cursed a lot, got settled, safety off, while George screamed, “Shoot him in the ass!” I ignored him, put the 400- yard dot just behind the zebra’s shoulder and pressed the trigger. When I came down from the recoil, he was gone. Jimmy asked me, “Was it a good shot?” and George said that he heard the bullet hit the zebra, which I immediately thought was hard to believe, but I wanted to believe it anyway. George had lasered the zebra at 386 yards; I figured that with the elevation change and the fact that the target was moving away, that it would have to have been some shot.
I stripped off the jacket, gulped some water. The zebra had entered a ravine and had not emerged, so Jimmy got a reference point on the far slope and we headed down into the valley. After a total of about an hour covering about 2 miles, we found him dead. The first shot was 2” below the bottom of the heart; the second shot hit him square in the lung. First thing I felt was relief, huge relief that we got him. Second thing I thought was that that was some shot. Third thing I thought was that zebras are really tough.
We looked over the zebra, at all the scars and bite marks, Jimmy said that he thought that each imperfection told a story, and that this old warrior had lived a full life. And he’s still with me:
View attachment 389446

Thank you. Excellent writing.

 

[Thumper Mcgee]

Waterbuck and eland, Thats because covid 19 beat me to it, and safari was postopned...

thats a shame

 

[Hillbilly Marine]

My hardest hasn't ended the way I wanted to see it end. I have tried for the last 4 years to take out an old doe that has been baren for at least the last 5 years and had a crippled front left leg. I first saw her about 8 years ago. I tried everything to get a shot at her. I picked her up on the cameras early this past season and she was looking pretty worn out. Her back was swaybacked, ribs poking through, just sad looking. I wanted to get her before she starved. Anyway, I did not see her again this year. My neighbors grandson found her a couple of weeks ago in a pond. He figured she had fell in and drowned. She had no teeth left to speak of so she was old as dirt. I am sad to see the old girl go.

 

[Thumper Mcgee]

My hardest hasn't ended the way I wanted to see it end. I have tried for the last 4 years to take out an old doe that has been baren for at least the last 5 years and had a crippled front left leg. I first saw her about 8 years ago. I tried everything to get a shot at her. I picked her up on the cameras early this past season and she was looking pretty worn out. Her back was swaybacked, ribs poking through, just sad looking. I wanted to get her before she starved. Anyway, I did not see her again this year. My neighbors grandson found her a couple of weeks ago in a pond. He figured she had fell in and drowned. She had no teeth left to speak of so she was old as dirt. I am sad to see the old girl go.

thats depressing..... nature isn't fair

 

[1dirthawker]

thats depressing..... nature isn't fair

thumper, you are right. i hunt with trained hawks, wild hawks eat their quarry to death, every day, thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of times every day. eaten to death, yup, nature is NOT fair

 

[PARA45]

@1dirthawker, that sounds like fun and challenging. Do you mind starting another thread and telling us a bit more about this? I'm sure there are others who would like to read and see pictures of your hunts with hawks. Wow, now this is cool!

 

[Randy F]

For me, bow hunting anything on public land in my area is difficult...bordering on impossible on a weekend. There aren't all that many areas within reasonable "one day" range, and they aren't large tracts. All the scouting and planning in the world is worthless when you end up seeing more aimlessly wandering wannabe hunters, charging around in circles believing they are stalking something, than you do actual game. Very frustrating, which makes it also very rewarding when you have success.
Funny though, how they're always too busy "hunting" to give a hand dragging.

 

[Ryan]

I have hunted javelina in Arizona now for 26 years during the HAM (handgun, archery, muzzle loader) hunt and usually pack a pistol. Just about every year I have had javelina within easy archery range. I have shot them with a pistol from any range from 2 feet to 120 yards. Yes, 2 feet and it had no idea that I was there. Most of them have been within 30 yards after stalking in on them once I had them spotted.

The trick is to find the other javelina in the group before you begin your stalk. When you find a herd of 20 or so that is a lot of eyes and noses to see or smell you as you try your approach. I have sat on a hillside trying to find all of them before a stalk only to have one bust me as I was getting closer.

You're preaching to the choir. I lived in Tucson for those 6-7 seasons. I was in the desert all the time and had friends with similar stories. Out of season, no problem similar stories. But in season, they were ghosts. Finding something the size of a gray cocker spaniel in that scrub can be humbling. I did learn a lot from those hunts so I just figure everyone has that one animal and tip my hat to the javelina.

 

[Thumper Mcgee]

@1dirthawker, that sounds like fun and challenging. Do you mind starting another thread and telling us a bit more about this? I'm sure there are others who would like to read and see pictures of your hunts with hawks. Wow, now this is cool!

I second this

 

[1dirthawker]

@1dirthawker, that sounds like fun and challenging. Do you mind starting another thread and telling us a bit more about this? I'm sure there are others who would like to read and see pictures of your hunts with hawks. Wow, now this is cool!

@PARA45,
i will write a bit on it, not today, fixing dinner. I went out today with the hawk, she flew off, i had to hike for 20 min, called her down from a mountain. took out my pellet rifle and shot a couple because i was down there already (50 miles from town) was a hoot. i will write an article in the not too distant future, gonna eat something after walking3 miles on snow shoes, oh, and I'm having a scotch and water!

pcp air rifles are amazing and I'm gonna cost some of you some money when i write this because..... airguns are more accurate than a .22 and.... you can shoot em in your house or back yard. nobody cares! sorry about the thread hijack

 

[Longwalker]

hunting in below zero weather for snow shoe hares...ironically while wearing snow shoes. cold and sweating like a pig the whole time. getting back to your vehicle, hoping it starts, as your sweaty clothes start to freeze.

This is what my family does to get out of the house and get some fresh air and work off a big meal on boxing day, the day after Christmas. Has been a family tradition for a few decades. Never thought of it as a particularly difficult hunt though. Often have some pre teen kids along for the fun!

 

[1dirthawker]

Never thought of it as a particularly difficult hunt though. Often have some pre teen kids along for the fun!

well, either i am not as tough as you guys, or, you hunt easier cover and its a lot colder where i am hunting.

 

[Longwalker]

We do hunt quite easy cover. And if its colder than -30 we may wait for a bit warmer weather.

 

[Woodcarver]

Most challenging hunt was solo hunting Rocky Mtn Bighorn sheep at 13000'+. I had put a nice, 3/4 curl to bed the evening before the opener and figured if I got up there predawn, it would be a 1 day hunt. Mother Nature proceeded to throw 4" of hail in with an intense lightning storm that night. Camping at 12900', I was in the storm, not under it. It's really cool to see lightning below you! Also can get the hair standing up pretty quick. For the next 3 days, there wasn't a sheep on the mountain.
After many miles of hiking and glassing, on the 5th day, a small band of rams was spotted about a mile and a half or so downhill. They were moving like they had someplace to go, so the race was on! Caught up to them about 2 miles from where I started. They were grazing along in a depression which allowed me to get within about 50-60 yards. That's when I saw the ear tag of the one I had scouted before the opener.
In and out of being visible due to the rocks, I was having to move with them while looking for an opportunity for the shot. Three of the four had been visible at some point and the other two were young rams. The fourth had never lifted his head and all I could ever see was his back. About that time I ran out of rocks to use as cover.
As they worked their way up into view, there seemed to always be a rock in the way or the body position was wrong for a shot. Turns out that was a good thing. The fourth ram finally came into view. He was a very heavy 3/4, edging towards a 7/8th curl. But his body was behind another rock!
When he and the other 3/4 were fully in view, they were walking straight away. And the size difference was obvious; not just the headgear, but body size as well.
When a real trophy, that took 18 years to get the tag for, is walking away, it can be rather nerve racking. And of course, the young ones were just standing around, closer, while the big one was getting away!
Just before they crested the ridge, he turned. Not much, but enough to give me a steep raking shot just in front of the left hip and out through the right shoulder. At the shot, the band turned and came back at me. Not sure where shot number 2 went, but it didn't find the ram on it's way. They stopped uphill from me at about 80 yards and the third round broke the left shoulder and he stood straight up on his back legs, fell over backwards, and slid about 40 yards down the hill.
Walking up on him is when I learned, sheep are really quite thick. Not tall, but very wide. Amazing how a 300 pound animal can be so graceful moving through terribly rough terrain. And really, really heavy when carried on one's back at 13000'...

Ruger 77 stainless in 300WM with laminate stock. I had to add the mesquite fore end, grip cap and checkering 'cause it was ugly before..