# Waterfowl Horror Stories



## Luhk (Aug 16, 2017)

I thought it would be fun to start a trend in hopes to save some souls or change some habits. 

Share your story below. 

Mine was opening day this last year. Had a new hunter who was not quite sure where she sat with hunting. Had hunters around 400 yards away which is great for opening day. Super happy, but they weren't. They drove the boat over. (took around 5 minutes to reach us) to yell at us that we were too close. Best part? we had someone come set up in between us right before shooting. They winged a bird that soared clear almost into my decoys and it swam into them around 3 to 4 minutes later. I sent my dog to get it for them. They again puddled over and began yelling at me to call my dog off the bird. I did so and they began trying to chase the bird down in their boat. What do most sane people do? Usually stop the boat and take another shot? nope these guys took a paddle out and began trying to bludgeon the bird to death. this took around 15 hits to accomplish. Yes the new hunter was hard to convince to come back out with me this year.


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## Papa Moses (Sep 27, 2018)

2nd to last day last year. Got caught in a lightning storm in a canoe on Utah lake. Or when my brother and his friend got stuck in the mud at Utah lake in a blizzard


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## sheepassassin (Mar 23, 2018)

Lost a starter on an airboat in BFE on the GSL when it was -15, had to walk a long dam ways before I could get cell service. Had a boat float away after a giant wind gust when hunting on an island. Watched a dog fall through the ice and drown. Saw another dog get hit with a prop on a mudboat. Saw someone kill 3 swans with a single shot.... and every time a fed fish cop gets involved, they all turn into horror stories


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## Jedidiah (Oct 10, 2014)

Does this one count? Jumpshooting the middle Provo, guy hiking through sees my gun and his eyes boggle. Stops and starts asking questions: "Is that legal?" "Isn't this too close to town?" "Don't your shots hit those houses over there?" "There's enough ducks to shoot here?" "Do you eat them?" "Do you hunt for trophies or food?" 

Stands around nervously looking at the sky and me and the water, walking around, looking up and down the river. After like 20 minutes I realize he's going to stand there and wait for me to either shoot some ducks or just keep scaring them off in his bright running outfit, so I pack up and start walking away (kind of annoying because it's nice to sit between some trees and fish while waiting for birds) and he makes a move to start following like I'm just going to walk down the river with this dingus having a chat in my camo so I turn and wade through a ditch without a word and head over to one of the ponds. Still not sure if he was a conscientious objector trying to police me or just some kind of weirdo.


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## Wire (Nov 2, 2017)

Had a hunter a few yrs back break his thumb and dang near killed someone. He was sitting on a dike with alot of other people around and somehow managed to pull his trigger while his gun was laying across his lap. Broke his thumb and his shot hit really close to a few people sitting just down from him. I also saw a swan hunter knock a swan down. He proceeded to try to chase it down by foot in the middle of a pond. The swan had only a broken wing and we had a pretty good laugh watching him swear and cuss everytime he got close and the swan would flap away. He had left his shotgun on shore as to not get it wet or dirty ... lol.


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## Decoycarver24 (Aug 17, 2018)

I was jump shooting a creek after a unsuccessful goose hunt, trying to kill a limit of drake goldeneye. I had crippled a Whistler and started to wade put in the creek so when he popped up I could pop him. I stepped on a loose rock, feet got swept out from under me, and down the creek I go. Waders filled up with water and to make matters worse I almost got suck under a big rock along the bank.

I went home about 5 shy of a limit.


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## Decoycarver24 (Aug 17, 2018)

Another time, a buddy of mine who was just starting to duck hunt went to go hunt a local lake. I told him the place to go and warned him that he needs to be careful due to waste deep mud. 

He sets out 4 decoys, sits on a stump about 20 yards off and proceeds to wait for legal time. Right at shoot light, a pair of wigeon come in. Wham! Knocks the hen down, his first puddle duck. About 10 minutes pass, a 3 pack of gadwall come in. He crippled a drake and it sales about 100 yards. Off he goes to retrieve it and after he gets about 3 feet from it, he is stucker than stuck. He ended up having to call the fire department and get pulled out.


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## 35whelen (Jul 3, 2012)

i was hunting a small slough in 30 degree weather. decided to cross the slough on a small bridge made from a cattle gate with some random 2x4s tied down with bailing wire on it. halfway across the bridge i stepped on a short section of 2x4 that was not attached in anyway. i had a half second to decide between wracking myself on the cattle gate or go for a swim. i fell three feet into the water and went completely under. the water was actually pleasantly warm. my phone was in my pocket and was ruined. i had cold walk back to the truck. saw no ducks.


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## Critter (Mar 20, 2010)

Anyone who has hunted waterfowl enough have a few of these stories. 

I had a friend that tried to walk across ice the Green up by Browns Park to retreive a downed goose. If it wasn't for a bag of decoys he would of been lost. 

Then there was the father son outing in Utah Lake that had their 10' boat capsized by a wave and all we could see of them from shore were a couple of heads bobbing up and down as they held onto their upside down boat until the State Park Rangers boat got there to pull them out. 

There is something about hunting around water, and ice that just draws people in thinking that they are safe doing what they are doing. That is until the inevitable happens


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## elkantlers (Feb 27, 2014)

I tried eating Duck one time.


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## ReadyToHunt (Jan 31, 2019)

Opener two years ago at Bear River Bird Refuge, hunting buddy runs out to retrieve a downed bird, at the same time the group of guys next to us sees a low flying bird and get so caught up in the fact there was a duck flying past that they completely didn't see my buddy. He was pelted twice before the pair of us who were screaming and yelling got their attention. I no longer have a hunting buddy for the opener, he refuses to go out, but I cant blame him.


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## sheepassassin (Mar 23, 2018)

ReadyToHunt said:


> Opener two years ago at Bear River Bird Refuge, hunting buddy runs out to retrieve a downed bird, at the same time the group of guys next to us sees a low flying bird and get so caught up in the fact there was a duck flying past that they completely didn't see my buddy. He was pelted twice before the pair of us who were screaming and yelling got their attention. I no longer have a hunting buddy for the opener, he refuses to go out, but I cant blame him.


Just shoot back! That usually gets their attention!


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## Fowlmouth (Oct 4, 2008)

January 2015 I was hunting alone. I had a flock of wigeons start working the decoys. I dropped to my knees to hide, when a phrag stem went straight up my nose. It hurt like hell and looked like a murder scene in the snow with all the blood. It ended my day quickly. 

Back in the early 90's I had a bad a$$ mullet, spiral permed and everything. I also had a 835 Ulti Mag 3 1/2" mule kicker that would rip chunks of hair out everytime I pulled the trigger. (if my hair was on my shoulder):grin:


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## Luhk (Aug 16, 2017)

sheepassassin said:


> Lost a starter on an airboat in BFE on the GSL when it was -15, had to walk a long dam ways before I could get cell service. Had a boat float away after a giant wind gust when hunting on an island. Watched a dog fall through the ice and drown. Saw another dog get hit with a prop on a mudboat. Saw someone kill 3 swans with a single shot.... and every time a fed fish cop gets involved, they all turn into horror stories


Holly Cow. I had a kid while I was pheasant hunting apparently shoot two swan with one shot and no tag. I know this because the Game Warden gave us the birds and wrote a tag. Man they are good smoked.


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## Tealboy (Sep 20, 2007)

I’ve owned an airboat for 13 years it’s a horror story every time I turn the key! From going through many ,many motors to getting stuck in Frag for hours,to head on collisions with other boats to a piece of a propeller breaking off and hitting me in the face!
But the worst of them all was last year. I was putting the new big block to the test and busting a new trail into some honey holes. You would think 700hp would take you where ever you want but that frag is vicious! We got stuck in some nasty thick stuff and the frag was nice and dry there wasn’t much water under the boat and we were a mile or so in the jungle. The frag tassels we’re wrapped around my cage and engine. As soon as we stopped I knew we had to get the frag off but it was too late. The tassels instantly ignited and before we knew it, we were surrounded by fire! I knew we wouldn’t be able to out run it. So my only thought was to get the frag away from the boat. I had an extinguisher but was saving that for if it got to the motor. Luckily I had a hedge trimmer so my buddy used that to cut the burning frag away and I laid down on the frag trying to push it away from the boat. Luckily the frag was burning from the top down so it slowed it down. After what seemed like forever and by the grace of god the fire just stopped! We then spent the next couple hours getting the boat turned around and unstuck. Needless to say I’m thinking twice about keeping an airboat!


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## middlefork (Nov 2, 2008)

Or maybe don't drive into the frag? Sounds scary.

Many years ago a buddy and I walked out into Ogden Bay at freeze up. We were punching through ice in our hip waders. He somehow tripped and fell down filling his waders with ice cold water. I was laughing so hard I went down beside him. It was a long day after that.


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## 35whelen (Jul 3, 2012)

My brother got a phrag up the nose too. Nasty stuff


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## JerryH (Jun 17, 2014)

When I first got into airboating their was a pair retired guys that we would cross paths with. At the ramp we would ask how they were doing. Their reply was always well we escaped death one more time. 


There is something about running a propeller out of the water that seems to draw problems. I've had to use the phone a friend option several times.


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## MuscleWhitefish (Jan 13, 2015)

Man, 



I guess I haven't lived. 



Hunting Salt Creek and having my cell phone fall out of my wader pouch into the mud never to be found again on my birthday. 



Pretty Mild, but still sucked.


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## Bret (Sep 7, 2007)

I've had three really rough days waterfowling. This is about one of them.


I came to consciousness lying flat on my back, staring straight up into the blinding sun. My whole head was throbbing in pain, the nose of my old Brittany dog, Bo was an inch from mine. His eyes gazed directly into mine. He looked as though he thought I was sleeping on the job. I sat up feeling groggy and disoriented. I wasn’t sure where I was or how I got there. The starbursts in my vision reminded me of an old stooge short I had watched. For a minute, my inner clown surfaced, and I thought, “Hey Moe, look at the pretty birds,” but that was short-lived as I started to realize the seriousness of my situation. My shotgun was laying beside me sort of half resting against my leg. I was laying out in the middle of a big frozen pond. The sky was the most beautiful shade of blue, and the reflection of the sun on the ice that I was somehow now sitting in the middle of was making my vision very painful. I was in my stocking foot waders, but somehow, I was wearing no boots. “Where the heck are my boots,” I said out loud. Bo was now standing over a dead Canada goose that I had apparently shot, and he had retrieved. My gun had two empty shells in the chambers, and I was so confused. It would take a long time for me to put together the happenings that led to that moment on the ice. I sat for the longest time trying to think with a concussed brain. I hurt, I was lost and why in the world would I have come out here with no boots.

Though it was all fuzzy at the time, things have cleared up considerably, and I remember most of the events that took place. Like any hunting day, Bo and I rose early in the morning. With my best pal on the passenger’s seat, I pointed the truck toward the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge just west of Brigham City, Utah, with the hopes of having the marsh all to myself. It was Christmas day, and I knew I shouldn’t be hunting. If my mother had known she would have thrown a fit. I was in my misspent early 20’s, and I didn’t much care what she or anyone else thought or said. I suppose a part of me sort have enjoyed the fact that it would make someone angry. We arrived an hour or so before daybreak and walked off into an area of the marsh that I knew very well. Looking back, it is incredible that I never even took a flashlight with me, but never once lost my way without one. The good side of me was thinking of returning home early to be with family and celebrate Christmas, so I took only a few decoys. We walked out across the frozen marsh to a place where current always kept a little bit of water open. We set up and waited.

The magic of the morning marsh always leaves me breathless. It started with the deafening songs of thousands of ducks, geese, and swans in the distance tingling my ears. Soon the silhouettes of ducks could be seen rocketing into and then out of sight in the grey light. Finally, the sun topped the mountain and glistened off the ice crystals that had collected on the bulrush. Yes, it was truly magnificent. I remember feeling sorry for those that were in bed, or opening presents. They did not see, and hear the magic of this Christmas morning the way I did. As the sun rose a little higher, it became apparent that I was nowhere near the X. I picked up my decoys and left them in the cattails to be picked up on the way out, and walk off in search of a better place to hunt the next day.

I waded through partially frozen canals and across frozen ponds in the direction of the birds I had been listening to all morning until I was in sight of them. They were sitting on a patch of open water out in the middle of a huge pond. They were in a situation that I was not equipped to hunt in those days. Disappointed, I sat and watched them hopelessly for several minutes when I noticed a few waves of geese getting up to the north me and flying low to the east. The groups were getting up a few minutes apart, and each wave followed about the same path. I knew if I could put myself under them, I might get a shot at a “Christmas” goose. I just hoped they would continue to do what they were doing. As I got closer, I realized it was going to be more challenging to get there without disturbing every bird on the water. The ice had a crunchy layer on top that cracked and echoed with every step like it was electronically amplified. There were some small islands of Cattails that I could use for cover, but it would be beyond tricky to get there without being detected. 

Wondering if I would regret the move, I took my boots off and left them on the ice. I tiptoed across the ice, trying not to be as quiet as I could in my stocking foot waders. With my careful footsteps now muffled, and belly crawling at times, I was able to get very close to where I wanted to be.
I had one more big patch of open ice to sneak across to get to the cover that looked to be the best place to hide. There was one patch of cattails that I could put between the birds on the water and I. The real trick would be to avoid getting busted by a flock in the air. I sat and watched a flock get up and fly off. When they passed, I made my move to get to that cover quickly while still being as quiet as I could. I got right in the middle of the open pond when a group got up and flew straight at me. I dropped down flat on my stomach and pulled Bo in close to lay down beside me. With my face down against the ice and hood over my head, I could not see the birds. I could only hear them. I could see Bo’s eyes getting more intense as they approached. When the old dog was looking out of the very top of his eyes, I blindly stood up and picked out a bird. They flared, as the first barrel connected and a goose tumbled from the flock. I picked another bird just as they were getting over the top and out of my range of motion. That’s when things went wrong. Ice had formed on the bottom of my smooth stocking feet and the recoil from my second shot caused my feet to slip violently out from under me. My head slammed into the ice, and that was where I came to consciousness. 

Putting these events all together took some time. I was finally able to figure out where I was. I did have some question as to where I had put my boots. Bo helped me find them, and we were off in the direction where I had parked the truck. Later that night, my head was still throbbing as I was eating Christmas dinner with my family. I suppose everyone has there own beliefs and feelings about a higher power. I usually choose to keep mine private, but I will tell you that I have never hunted on Christmas since. The concussion lasted about a week.


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## Luhk (Aug 16, 2017)

Bret said:


> I've had three really rough days waterfowling. This is about one of them.
> 
> I came to conscientiousness lying flat on my back, staring straight up into the blinding sun. My whole head was throbbing in pain, the nose of my old Brittany dog, Bo was an inch from mine. His eyes gazed directly into mine. He looked as though he thought I was sleeping on the job. I sat up feeling groggy and disoriented. I wasn't sure where I was or how I got there. The starbursts in my vision reminded me of an old stooge short I had watched. For a minute, my inner clown surfaced, and I thought, "Hey Moe, look at the pretty birds," but that was short-lived as I started to realize the seriousness of my situation. My shotgun was laying beside me sort of half resting against my leg. I was laying out in the middle of a big frozen pond. The sky was the most beautiful shade of blue, and the reflection of the sun on the ice that I was somehow now sitting in the middle of was making my vision very painful. I was in my stocking foot waders, but somehow, I was wearing no boots. "Where the heck are my boots," I said out loud. Bo was now standing over a dead Canada goose that I had apparently shot, and he had retrieved. My gun had two empty shells in the chambers, and I was so confused. It would take a long time for me to put together the happenings that led to that moment on the ice. I sat for the longest time trying to think with a concussed brain. I hurt, I was lost and why in the world would I have come out here with no boots.
> 
> ...


That was seriously the best read. Amazing story.


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## Whiskey H0und (Aug 26, 2016)

December 13, 2015, Bear River Bird Refuge 

My son and I went with my buddy and his brother to hunt the edge of the ice in Unit 2. We launched at the main parking lot and motored down the canal. We took two boats as it was more comfortable hunting two out of each instead of four in one. We reached the edge of the ice with plenty of time to get set up and wait for a bit before shooting hours. 

The morning was slow and cold as hell. 13 degrees if memory serves me right. My son and I set up a small propane heater and tried our best to keep the feeling in our hands at least. As the sun rise came and went, it was proving to be a slow morning. 

From out of nowhere, a single drake Golden Eye buzzed over our heads. My son swung around on the bird and pulled off a shot. How he dropped this bird is still a mystery to me but he smashed it. As cheers came from both boats and the bird fell from the sky, I realized just how good of a shot it was and knew it had to be from the superior training he had received from me over the years. I was very proud to say the least. When the bird final hit the ice, it broke clean through. My son retrieved the bird and we all marveled at his prize. 

As the adrenaline wore off we went back to the heater. I turned it to high and some kind of malfunction occurred. This heater turned into a fire breathing demon hell bent on engulfing the entire world. I managed to wrangle the beast from the floor of the boat and fling it into the water. Not to be discouraged by a little water, the beast continued its fiery conquest as I threw it into only about two inches of water, bottle down. I scrambled from the boat and find myself kicking water at a fire coming from the water. When the beast had been extinguished, I looked back at my buddy and the look of confusion on his face was absolute. 

We decided it was enough to get one bird and rolled up our small setup. As it was, in 2015, I did not have the most reliable boat. I went to crank it over and quickly discovered it was not going to start. the battery quickly gave up the ghost and there we were, dead on the water. Not to worry though, I had a friend with a boat a mere fifty yards away! 

So we get the tow line attached and start heading towards the launch. Slow and steady, we were doing fine. My buddy was cautious and kept the speed low, occasionally checking back on us. I steered the boat with my motor and my son was sitting near the bow with the rest of the gear. We hit a certain comfort level and my buddy quit checking on us as often. 

As we approached a small island in the canal, my buddy decided to go to the right. Seems like a fairly innocuous decision as one side looked just as good as the other. This is where it got a little western. The right side was significantly more narrow than the left side. Again, didn't think much of it till we were in the middle of it. Turns out the wake from my friends hyper drive hit the bank and rolled back causing a little bit of a wave. This little wave was about to cause some big problems.

I noticed a bit of water accumulating on the floor of the boat. I told my son to reach down and turn on the bilge pump. By the time he reached down for the switch, a torrent of water was now coming over the bow and filling the boat. Did I mention my boat didn't have any foam for flotation? If I didn't, well.... it didn't. 

My buddy didn't hear the screeching cries to stop over the roar of his finely tuned motor for the next twenty seconds or so. In that time, my boat turned into the first known submarine to ever be documented in the Bear River Bird Refuge. When my buddy finally turned to check on us, I was waist deep in water and my son a bit higher. I had resided myself to my fate and was waiting to start swimming. I was not happy and the look on my sons face was not soon forgotten. 

My buddy, in his infinite wisdom immediately stopped his motor and grabbed the tow rope. As he pulled our boats together, I could feel the water continue to rise up my waders. Just as the water was about to get in the top of my sons waders, he was able to jump and grab the side of the rescue craft. As he is hanging on the side, and I am now holding the prop, my son starts yelling "Get the bird! Get the bird!" as if it was his last possession in the world and he wasn't going anywhere without it. I didn't have time to yell back at him to just get in the boat when he was pulled in by his waist by my buddies brother. this was no small task as my son outweighed him by 50-60 pounds without a bunch of wet gear on. Adrenaline is crazy. 

My buddy held the front of my boat up while I stood on the now submerged bow and gather everything that was floating, including the bird. When the last of everything that was in arms length was gathered up, I jumped into the boat and my buddy let go of the rope. An eerie silence was deafening as we all came to the realization of what just happened. Where once there were two boats, now there was one. We all kinda looked at each other for a minute then enjoyed the best laugh I have had before or since. The feeling of just cheating certain doom was intoxicating. We decided to sacrifice a decoy to mark the location of my sunken craft and tied it to the tow rope then threw it up in the weeds. 

On down the canal we went, our thoughts turning to the excitement we just had. I was calling my insurance agent trying to explain how I sunk a boat in December, a task not so easily done without the immediate suspicion of fraud. We reported the sinking to the appropriate authorities and went on our way. 

The boat stayed at the bottom of the canal until February 27, 2016. There was continued drama with that cursed little aluminum tub down the road, but thats another story for another day.

TLDR: Almost lit my boat on fire then sunk it.


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## Bret (Sep 7, 2007)

Luhk said:


> That was seriously the best read. Amazing story.


Thank you! I wrote that several years ago it's on my blog. It happened back in 1993 or 1994.


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