Henry Rifle Forums

most of the time through reflections on given on events we realize just how scary it was .... just curious, what has been your scariest experience while armed .... on a range, hunting, cleaning, or while concealed/open carrying ?

for me :

back in the '60's, while I was living at home and going to college, one of my summer jobs was giving shooting/fast draw demonstrations at a western themed tourist trap in Western NC .... almost every day after getting home I'd go to woods behind hour home where I'd practice, and practice, and practice .... drawing and firing 50 to 100 rounds .... one day when I stepped beside a large stump on which I routinely placed targets, I felt something hit my ankle .. .. looking down I saw a snake slithering away .. .. at that instant I didn't think, I reacted .. .. I drew and emptied my 357 along with 5 rounds of 00-buckshot out of an Ithaca 12 ga .... tore that sucker up .... it was only then that I checked my ankle .... turned out the snake wasn't poisonous but right then I didn't much care

I had one very scary moment in the short time I've been shooting. Several months ago while at the indoor shooting range, I stepped back out of my lane to retrieve a spent brass case that had landed behind me. As I did, I saw that to my right another shooter had also stepped back out of his lane. He was hysterically laughing and apparently wanted to share something very funny with his companion who occupied the lane between us. As he turned in my direction, his loaded semi-automatic pistol was pointed directly at my chest! I quickly stepped back into my own lane and into the safety of its concrete partition.

Before I left the range or even right then, I should have gone upstairs and reported him to the owner. But, I didn't. I regret that, but I will certainly never forget it.

I accidently touched the trigger on my Big Boy before I was set to shoot one time last summer. Sent a round at about 45 degrees up and down range into the wild blue yonder. Not good and I am EXTRA careful now.
The other scary moment was on Monday seeing the Canadian special order price for the H011C.

I was in a tree stand with a .30-06 and shot a nine point buck. Just came trotting by about 7:00AM, many moons ago. I was young and more excitable and inexperienced. I wanted to get to him fast, too fast. I fell the last 8 feet getting out of the tree. Lucky the rifle didn't break or fire and lucky that I didn't wind up on one of the many rocks that dot the mountain. As it was, I had a big bruise on my left hip and glad I didn't land on my head. This picture of the terrain has more rocks than the area where I fell. And while we look at that picture, the hat is as orange as my gloves but for some reason, and I have seen it many times, the hats in floresent orange seem to turn out looking yellow in the natural light. Maybe some of you who are more camera experienced can explain it? This was taken with a camera phone. When I looked it up all I could find was that it might have something to do with the dye in the hat.

Long before cell phones and GPS devices I would set off into the woods on my hunts without telling a soul of my whereabouts or plans to return. My brother, who I had always hunted with, had moved away. He knew of my stand locations- but we often kept our 'spots' a secret from one another. Of course I'd tell my wife I was going hunting and she just nodded 'okay' and that was that. Such was life 30 years ago when life was at an easier, manageable pace.

One particular evening, I was bow hunting a lovely section of hardwoods on a big tract of timber my late grandmother owned. It was a block of several hundred acres that joined land with equally larger amounts of undisturbed, uninhabited forests. A big, fat doe grazed past me just out of bow range. My first reaction was- oh well, they'll be another to come by, but my instincts told me to climb out of my ladder stand and try a stalk on the doe for a possible shot.

I followed the does path for about an hour or so...only getting a few glimpses of parts of her- but no shot ever materialized. The sun was now beginning to set and I decided to break off the stalk and head back to my stand. From there, I knew my markers in the woods by heart. This particular night there was cloud cover and I soon felt a few drops of rain pelting my hands and face. Still, I had not one doubt in my mind as to whether I could retrace my steps, even without a flashlight.

Soon, I found myself walking ever widening circles and I saw the same rock pile three times. Then the night fell upon me along with increasing winds and heavy rain. At this point, I knew I was in trouble and in for a long night in the woods. Hello darkness my new friend. I couldn't see the stars or hear road traffic for a bearing. If I had been gun hunting I would have fired off some shots in desperation- trying to alert someone to my whereabouts from my truck's location. It was now an hour past the time I should have returned home. Panic had fully set in- a panic that I cannot fully describe- because I knew of several directions I could take that would have me possibly walking 10 miles without finding a road or house.

I gathered myself and went with my gut feeling on a direction and fought through a thick briar patch that would lead me down into a bottom and up into a cutover with new pines. It was from this new vantage point that I got my lucky break! Off in the far distance, I saw a faint light through the dense trees and driving rain. There was no question as to what I would do next- I was walking to the light no matter what! An hour later, I found myself walking through a series of hog houses on a hog farm I did not know about tucked deep in the woods. There seemed to be no one manning it, but then again, it was around 11PM at night.

The feeling of relief rushed over me and my panic and fear turned to thankfulness. I walked the dirt road from the hog farm out to the main, paved road that I recognized. I was drenched with rain and 3 miles from where I parked my truck, but forever grateful to be out of the woods with only a few scratches. To this day, I will not venture off like I once did before I had no fear of getting lost. It was not a good feeling and one I shall never forget!

This was a scary moment
The last home invasion I was in was in 1998 around noon in Globe Az . Biker gang broken in my buddy's house in looking for his room mate , bad drug deal I guess .  There was about 6 bikers that pushed there way in the house and another 10 + more outside and there for awhile it wasn't looking good . My buddy Dick is retired San Jose Ca motor cop had his 66 S&W and I was carrying a 1911 both of us were sitting on couch 10 steps from the front door  looking at them with our hands on our guns in our lap . My extra ammo and mags where on my bike outside where the other 10+  Dirty Neckers were parked and Dick didn't bring any extra ammo . It weren't looking good if a fire fight broke out  . There was more bad guys then ammo . Now you know why I carry Glock 23C with extra mags on my person  when I travel , plus a bug gun too .