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Just Creepy: Scary Stories

3 Terrifying Hunting Horror Stories From The Deep Woods

17 Apr 2026

Transcription

Transcript generated automatically by AI and may contain errors.

Chapter 1: What led the narrator to sell all his hunting equipment?

22.39 - 26.055 Wes Coffey

I need to say this up front so you understand the rest of what I'm about to tell you.

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Chapter 2: What terrifying experience occurred on November 11th, 2021?

26.716 - 28.519 Wes Coffey

I'm not a guy who gets scared in the woods.

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Chapter 3: How did the narrator describe the hunting property and its features?

29.5 - 31.563 Wes Coffey

I grew up in Ashland County, Wisconsin.

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Chapter 4: What unsettling events happened while hunting in the woods?

32.104 - 34.547 Wes Coffey

I've been hunting whitetails since I was nine years old.

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Chapter 5: What was discovered at the gut pile in the clearing?

35.288 - 38.213 Wes Coffey

I've sat in stands in the dark more times than I can count.

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Chapter 6: What strange markings were found on the trees?

39.474 - 40.896 Wes Coffey

I've had bears walk under me.

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Chapter 7: What did the narrator learn from the old family papers?

41.497 - 45.142 Wes Coffey

I've had wolves howl so close the sound vibrated in my chest.

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Chapter 8: What was the significance of the voice calling the narrator's name?

46.104 - 68.985 Wes Coffey

None of that ever made me want to leave. What happened on November 11th, 2021 made me sell every piece of hunting equipment I owned. I haven't been in the woods since. The property was 640 acres of mixed hardwood and swamp in the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest, about 40 minutes south of Mellon.

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68.965 - 87.885 Wes Coffey

My buddy Travis had permission from the landowner, a guy named Dale Poole who lived in Eau Claire and only came up twice a year to check on the place. Dale didn't hunt anymore. Bad knees. He let Travis and a few other guys use the land during gun season in exchange for keeping an eye on the place and running trail cameras in the summer.

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87.865 - 109.986 Wes Coffey

Travis had been telling me about the property for two years. Big deer, no pressure. The kind of timber where you could sit all day and not hear a truck or a four-wheeler. He told me there was a ladder stand on the northeast side of the property, at the edge of a long ridge that dropped off into a creek bottom, thick with tag alder. The deer used the bottom as a travel corridor.

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110.647 - 132.452 Wes Coffey

You could see about 80 yards in three directions from the stand, and the wind almost always came out of the northwest, which meant anything moving through the bottom wouldn't smell you. He drew me a map on a napkin at the bar, told me where to park, how to get to the stand, and where the boundaries were. He said he'd be hunting the west side of the property, about two miles away.

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132.432 - 158.575 Wes Coffey

No cell service anywhere on the land. If I needed something, I'd have to walk to him. I didn't think twice about it. I'd hunted alone my entire life. I got to the parking spot, a wide spot on a logging road, at about 2.30 in the afternoon on November 11th. Opening day of gun season was the 20th, but I wanted to get in early and sit the stand a few times during bow season to learn the area.

158.555 - 182.964 Wes Coffey

I had my Matthews on my back, a grunt tube around my neck, and a headlamp in my jacket pocket. I figured I'd sit until dark, walk out, and decide if I wanted to come back opening weekend. The walk-in was about 45 minutes. I followed a faint two-track for the first half-mile, then cut into the timber along a ridge that Travis had described. The woods were thick, but not impassable.

183.725 - 209.458 Wes Coffey

Red oak, sugar maple... Some big white pines scattered through. The ground was covered in wet leaves. No snow yet. The air was cold, somewhere in the high twenties, and everything smelled like rot and frozen dirt. I found the stand right where Travis said it would be. It was a 16-foot ladder stand with a flip-up seat, bolted to a red oak at the edge of the ridge.

210.419 - 234.51 Wes Coffey

Below me to the east, the ground dropped about 30 feet into the creek bottom. The tag alder down there was so dense you couldn't see more than 10 feet into it. To the north and south, the ridge ran straight and relatively open. Good shooting lanes. Someone, Travis probably, had trimmed branches within bow range. I climbed up, pulled my bow on the haul line, knocked an arrow, and settled in.

235.332 - 241.92 Wes Coffey

It was 2.50 in the afternoon. Sunset was at 4.31. For the first hour, it was perfect.

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