Ever gotten in trouble while outdoors alone?

matto said:
My wife and I have an on-going disagreement about me hunting alone. I don't do it often, maybe twice a year, but it really makes her worry.
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In about 1999, my in-laws (I'm sure at the request of my wife) bought me a cell phone to take hunting. I thought it was stupid, although I did throw it in the truck sometimes just to appease her. Times have obviously changed a bit since then, but today I make sure to not only have it along, but in my vest pocket while actively hunting. Today, the emergencies that could happen AWAY from the truck concern me more than the ones that could occur AT the truck.
 
Stuck a knife in my leg field dressing a deer. Wasn't alone but my daughter was 3 and was the first time I took her with me. Didn't lose a dangerous amount of blood but it was definitely bloody. Ended up in the ER getting stitched up. Used a sweatshirt for a tourniquet. Goose would probably refer to this as karma for low brow big game hunting. Deer was nice though.
 
Golden Hour said:
Last spring, I wanted to check out a section of a Waterfowl Production Area that you can only access when the water is frozen. Nila, Sage and I walked back there and there was a small open spot where the water was shallow (the pre 1997 shoreline) and Sage ran over, fell in, but pushed off the lake bottom and climbed out. I figured it was maybe 18" deep or so, but still made a point to give it a wide berth. We made it across and scoped out what I wanted to see (a few pheasants, but they wouldn't be back there with any type of snow) and headed back.

This time, it was Nila who decided to check it out. She goes in and is not able to get back out. After 20 seconds or so of struggling mightily, she starts this awful crying noise and I figured I'd better go get my boots wet and help her out. As I get close to the open water, I can see the bottom of the lake and am guessing it to be about 24" deep when the ice gives way and I'm in over my belly button. I bob over to where Nila is at and lift her out, start trying to climb out, but the ice is soft and breaks. After not too long, I was in knee deep water and the ice held me enough to where I could climb out. I still have no idea how Sage was able to get out so easily when she went in earlier. Magic, I suppose.

Fortunately, it was sunny and in the upper 30's that day. The mile plus walk back to the truck was uncomfortable, but not debilitating. Still, I learned a valuable lesson that day. And it's one I saw discussed on Facebook when the MN hunter died trying to rescue his dog. Some folks will argue until they're blue in the face that it's "just a dog" and a human life is more important. While logically, we all recognize that to be true, I doubt there are many on this forum that would stand on the shore and listen and watch our best friends struggle for the last few moments of their life without doing something. I'd die for my dog, and I know how dumb that sounds, but I can't help how I feel. But knowing that helps me to be extra vigilant to keep the pups on solid ground or hardwater, as the case may be.
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People that say that just don’t understand how close the bond is. I think I remember reading a story on here about a dog that got caught under the ice while hunting ducks on a river. I want to say it was the Colorado forum and maybe 8-10 years ago. The dog got swept under the ice in some current and he had to watch it struggle and disappear. I forget a lot of crap in my life but the feeling I felt when reading it I will never forget.
 
Last fall I got lost in SK. It was foggy when we started hunting and continued to get worse, by the time we quit you couldn't see jack. As the guys started picking decoys I went to get the truck when I started out I could see tire tracks so I knew I was going the right way. After about 20 minutes I started to doubt myself but held coarse as best as I could. Eventually I came to a road and new I missed the trucks. I went up a bit of rise and hit the panic button on my truck. I could hear the horn just barely. Not a dangerous situation, but I was really surprised how easily I started to doubt myself.
 
A couple buddies and I were duck hunting when we see a couple hundred mallards on a slew across the river. We plotted and schemed until we came up with the bright Idea to cross it. Our local river isn't the Mississippi, but it is a couple hundred yards wide. When it's near flood levels as it was then it's very dangerous and often kills dumb people like use. So, one buddy had a 10-foot aluminum boat and the other's dad had a 3-horse motor. We loaded up with guns shells, two big guys and me. All with hip boots on. As we pushed off the water was just a few inches from coming over the sides. When we reached the middle with the strongest current we tried to turn up stream. But the little motor could barely keep us from washing down stream. There were logs and trees Hurling down the river bigger than that little boat. We finally got across about 3/4 mile down river. We then mucked and crawled through the mud to the ducks but somehow spooked them. We sat around an hour or so, but none retuned. We made it back across but realized that there was no way we could maneuver the timber lined bank in that current, so we had to drift down stream over a mile. Remember the little boat would not pull us up stream, so we had to find an inside bend where the current was less and maneuver in. I was in the front, so I had to jump to shore and tie to a tree. Then we had to slop across solid mud back to the truck. When it dried up some, we took my buddies dads tractor down and drug it to the nearest gravel. Every time we all three see each other now 50+ years later we talk about every detail and how lucky we were.
 
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