2 Terrifying Hunting Horror Stories That Will Leave You Unsettled
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What led to the author's unsettling experience while hunting?
I have not hunted that piece of land since that morning, and I do not say that because I got scared by a noise in the woods or because I let my imagination get away from me. I grew up hunting. I know what deer sound like. I know what raccoons sound like. I know what it sounds like when a squirrel makes enough noise to convince you a grown man is walking through dry leaves. I am not saying I am some mountain man or anything like that, but I am comfortable in the woods, especially on land my family has owned since before I was born. That is what bothers me the most. This did not happen in some place I had never been. It happened on ground where I knew every logging trail, every creek crossing, every old fence post, and every stand of cedars thick enough to hide in.
The land is in southern Missouri, not too far from Salem.
How did the author describe the hunting location and its significance?
My dad always just called it the 80, even though after my grandfather bought the backstrip from a neighbor years ago, it was closer to 110 acres. It is not a giant ranch or anything. It is a mixed-up Ozarks property with hardwood ridges, cedar pockets, a dry creek that only runs after heavy rain, and one old shed on the south side that nobody used anymore. My grandpa used to keep feet in that shed back when he still had cattle. By the time this happened, the roof sagged, the door hung crooked, and the inside smelled like mice, old hay, and gasoline from cans that had been empty for 20 years. Nobody had a reason to go in there, so nobody really did. Every deer season, my dad and I would hunt the same general spots.
He liked the north ridge because he was getting older, and it was easier for him to get in there from the upper gate. I liked the creek bottom because there was a narrow place where deer crossed between two cedar thickets, and if you sat still long enough, you could almost always see something. My ladder stand was chained to a white oak about 30 yards off the creek.
What unusual events occurred before the hunting season began?
It was not fancy. just one of those two-man stands with a small shooting rail and a torn cushion I kept meaning to replace. I had trimmed shooting lanes around it in late summer and hung a cheap trail camera facing the creek crossing. The week before rifle season, I went out to check the camera and top off the corn at another spot. I know people get weird about baiting depending on where they are from, but where we were, people put out corn and mineral blocks on private land all the time. I am not here to argue ethics. That is just what everybody around us did. When I checked that camera, I remember thinking the strap looked twisted. Not cut. Not broken.
What happened when the author discovered the stand had been moved?
just turned in a way I had not left it. The camera was still on the tree, still locked, and it had normal pictures on it. Does. A small eight-point raccoons, a coyote, me walking past it twice. Nothing weird. I told myself the wind or a coon had messed with it. That sounds stupid now, but at the time there was no reason to make more of it. Opening morning I got there early. I think I pulled up to the gate around 5.15. It was cold enough that my breath showed in the beam of my headlamp, but not bitter cold.
How did the author react to the strange presence in the woods?
I had coffee in a thermos, a rifle in a soft case, and one of those cheap orange vests I kept in the back seat because my good one was still at home from washing it. My dad was already parked at the upper gate when I drove past the gravel road turnoff, so I knew he was on the property. We usually did not hunt together in the same spot. We would text if one of us shot, then meet back at the trucks around 10 or 11. It had been that way for years. I parked at the lower gate, unlocked the chain, drove through, locked it behind me, and parked behind a little rise where the truck could not be seen from the road. That was habit. Not because we were hiding anything, but because people will stop and mess with your truck if they see it sitting by itself during deer season.
I put on my vest, loaded my rifle only after I was past the truck, and walked in with my headlamp pointed at the ground. I remember hearing an owl once, then hearing cattle lowing somewhere off the neighboring place, and then the rest was just my boots and leaves.
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Chapters
8 chapters
1
What led to the author's unsettling experience while hunting?
0:22–1:11
2
How did the author describe the hunting location and its significance?
1:11–2:18
3
What unusual events occurred before the hunting season began?
2:18–2:58
4
What happened when the author discovered the stand had been moved?
2:58–3:34
5
How did the author react to the strange presence in the woods?
3:34–4:36
6
What critical moment occurred when the author heard his father's voice?
4:36–5:24
7
How did the deputies respond to the situation during the hunt?
5:24–6:08
8
What were the aftermath and implications of the hunting horror story?
6:08–1:14:25
Speakers
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