We have a tradition in camp involving a "Hunter's Horn." Every young hunter must blow the horn in triumph after their first kill. It's one of those twisted around horns like they used fox hunting in England. The large opening in the end points straight down ino the face of the person doing the blowing. We pack the horn with baking soda and tell'em to "Blow real hard now!!" They inevitably get a face full of baking soda.

We also have the "Wood-cutters" test. We take the new sport to the woodpile, where the large log used for splitting is set up. We put a quarter on the chopping block and tell the guy he has to hit the quarter blind-folded. One of us comes up behind him to blind-fold him while another kindly holds his cap. We hold the axe head and tap the quarter with it so they know about where to swing. As they wind up to take a whack at the quarter, the guy holding his cap tosses it on top of the chopping block. We'll give him three or four good swings before letting him remove the blindfold to see his cap chopped to pieces.

i like that wood cutter story.

I leave my rifle in my blind while on the lease. I unload it, case it and put the bullets back in the box. Last year after I had gone to bed, my buddies went over to my blind and pulled my bullets out of the box and replaced them with empty brass that they had seated bullets into. I get to my blind before daylight the next morning and load those dummy rounds into my rifle. You know it, a nice buck walks out about 7:30am. I aim, squeeze the trigger and nothing happens. I immediately cycle another round into the chamber and click, but no boom. Cycle third shell, repeat. By now I'm making so much racket, the buck decides to find a quieter place to enjoy breakfast. I look at all three ejected shells, see the primer is indented and cannot figure out why the shells are not firing. I take the rifle back to camp along with the three shells to show the others. It took all of 30 seconds for them to bust out laughing and tell me the reason.

Now you know how I got the name Dry Fire.

Wow dry fire, you are a better man than myself. My so called buddies would be wishing they never did that when i get back to camp. Jokes are ok, but that caused you a chance at a good buck. To me that is not very funny.

pranks should not be pulled in the feild, thats how hunters get hurt/killed and hunting gets a bad rep. therer are some really funny ones tho

I have never heard of one single hunter getting hurt/killed because of a prank. Mad, yes. Do you have a reference for this?

no but im darn sure it has happened after reading some of these? jmho

So maybe if the old guy in the Indian costume, or maybe the guy in the gorilla suit, had been shot? Or maybe if there had been a couple gut-shot deer due to having scopes tampered with, then, and only then, would you be against pranks in the field involving loaded weapons? You can't be serious.

slow ur drift slowdrifter just making a general statement

I did not say if I was for or against them. I simply asked for a cite for the statement that "hunters get hurt/killed" because of pranks.

Gotcha'. Aplogies for any offense taken. I just don't think practical jokes and guns go hand in hand and just because no one's been killed yet doesn't mean they aren't stoopid.

Edited to Add: I just can't believe anyone in this day and age is "riding the fence" on whether practical jokes involving loaded firearms is OK or not?

This wasn't at camp but... Nearly 20 years ago I sent my 870 back to Remington for a repair. Couple of months later I get a letter (pre email days) stating that it's being returned (great!) Well UPS didn't deliver because they needed a signature and I worked out in the field. Subsequently the gun is returned to Remington "delivery refused" Ouch. So I arrange to have the shotgun delivered to our office. Now we're about 2.5 months into this ordeal and Sept 1st is quickly approaching and I am getting a little hot. Well the gun shows up at the office...without the barrel! My coworkers intercepted the parcel and removed the barrel, then they dummied up a fake repair invoice detailing the repair and the fact that I didn't send the barrel with the receiver. One of these coworkers was a roomate at the time and listened to me cuss and spit for about six hours. How he kept a straight face still puzzles me to this day. Round about dinnertime I get a "follow up call" from a Remington rep inquiring to my satisfaction with the repairs. Memory fails but I know I had the a$$ eating ready to go when the light bulb finally lit...I'd been had,lock, stock and barrel. Twenty years later I still get a load about that one.

this past weekend my cousin and i were at the lease and got into bed and turned off the lights. it had been quiet for about 3 minutes when i was almost asleep. And all of a sudden my cousin started screaming like a girl and jumping around. it was completely dark so i was reaching for my pistol and my flashlight as he was yelling. by the time i found the light switch he had stopped screaming and he said theres something in my sleeping bag!!!! when i turned on the light he was standing on top of the igloo. I asked what was it and he said it was something big!! by that time i am dying laughing! he was so scared he wouldnt even open his sleeping bag to see what it was. so i walked over there and opened his sleeping bag. it was the biggest lizard i had ever seen. that thing was like an iguana. it was a good 7-8 inches long! and i didnt put it in there... too bad i didnt think about pulling that prank. i would have been laughing for days. so now i will have to pull this prank on someone else on the lease. dont worry guys i will video it!!!!

check ur sleeping bags!!!

We have an ole boy in camp that we call silver back, because of his size he is a big SUM BUCK. He always wears a big black mizuno softball jacket that looks like plastic or fake leather when he cleans his kill. After he finishes he cleans it up and hangs it in the cabin closet at the door. Well being of his size and all and always wearing the jacket we decided to get some reflective mailbox letters and stick to the back "GIMP". Dont know if any of you are familiar with the movie "Pulp Fiction" but if you are you should be able to recall the scene where they say "Bring in the Gimp" and the ole boy comes out in full leather with the ball gag and all. He put that jacket on one night to clean a deer and the cameras started flashing, he couldnt figure out what was going on. You should have seen how well those reflective letters showed up with the big ole word GIMP on the back. We even went so far as to make him a ball gag, but for some reason couldnt get him to wear it.

Several years ago on opening morning I hear a shot from the direction of my friend's blind. I wait a respectful amount of time and then ease on over there to see what he's shot. About the same time I get there another hunter shows up in his truck. Our friend is nowhere to be found, but there's a decent sized 10 point laying on the ground near his feeder.

The buck hasn't been gutted, so we decide to prank him a little. We pick up the buck (not an easy feat) and manage to carry it over and load it into the truck. We then head back to camp and meet the successful hunter on the road. He tells us all about this really nice 10 point he shot and how he walked back to camp to get his camera for some pics. We say great, we'll come help you get your pics and load it up. So we turn around and follow him back to the scene of the crime.

Sure enough, no dead deer here. Well, the poor guy just about loses it. We ask him if he was sure the deer was dead, and all he could say was "I thought so, but I guess I was wrong." So now we have to help him track his 10 point that got up and ran away. After an hour or so of "tracking" we decide to head back to camp to get some lunch and enlist more help.

When we got to camp, he went inside the cabin to tell his story, and me and my accomplice quickly unload the deer and stick it in the outhouse. After lunch, one of the other guys who wasn't in on the joke, went to the outhouse to relieve himself. He comes back with a funny look on his face, but to his credit, he just says "I betcha a hundred bucks I can track that deer down for you."

So off we go again, this time with the entire camp in tow, on the mile and a half ride back to the killing spot. Outhouse dude looks around, gets down on his hands and knees and squints at the dirt, stands up and takes off in the general direction of camp. About 30 minutes later we all walk back into camp and outhouse dude points at the little brown shack out back and say's "He's hiding in there." The hunter gets this weird look on his face, walks over to the door and opens it to see his buck proudly sitting on the pooper, cigarette hanging from a lip and half empty Miller Lite can nearby.

Thats funny!

Years ago when my dad was a Game Warden, the State used to give them 12 ga. shells to run deer out of fields and crops. These shells looked like a regular shotgun shell. My dad called them shell crackers. When fired they would not have hardly any recoil or muzzle blast, but would go about 100 yards or so and make a very loud explosion.

We were having a big dove hunt on a slough and there were quite a few people there. One of my dads buddys was sitting on a stool hunting, and decided to go back to his car to get him another ice cold Falstaff and pee. When he leaned his shotgun against the car, and went to the other side to pee, we removed the regular shotshell in the chamber and replaced it with the shell cracker. When he was through he came back around the car and got his cold Falstaff and went back to his stool at the slough to continue hunting. By this time some of the other hunters knew what was fixin to happen. About that time some doves were headin straight for this guy and he stood up and fired. I guess he was expecting for that old 12 ga. to kick pretty good, but it didn't, and he took a step or two forward after he fired. Needless to say he didn't hit nothing, but there was hell of a bang out over that slough, so he pumped another shell in the chamber and shot again and missed. He sat back down on the stool and kept drinking his beer and looking at his shotgun for a few minutes, then just kept huntin like nothing had happened. Later that evening my dad asked what the hell happened when you shot at those doves. His response was "I'll be GD if I know". He never noticed the different spent shell laying on the ground where he was hunting.

Later that evening he got a demonstration of what happened, His response to that was "Hell, boy they didn't have nothin like that when I was a kid growing up"

I took my son and his best friend dove hunting in Gordon they had just turned 21 so I took them to Mingus to the Boars Nest for a cold one the night before the opening day as we were leavind i found a tube of lipstick in the parking lot when we get to the camper they go fast to sleep so I took the lip stick and marked up their faces. The next morning my son was first to wake up i told him to look at his bud but not to say anything then i send him out to the truck and wake his bud and tell him to look at my son but not to say anything.They walked around all morning look like they had war paint on, not knowing they were both painted until a buddy of mine showed up and started laughing.