Answering Nature’s Call…

And Other ‘Natural’ Disasters

Sure, potty humor and jokes are immature, but given as how we all need to do-dooty, it can be downright funny, since we all can relate. At least if you’re honest about it …

guy hunting gun

Hoodwinked Hike

It was opening day of hunting season. After months of anticipation, it was finally here. My Cousin Barrel tells this tale, as only he can. He hears it happened to a friend’s cousin, so it’s got to be true, right? Seems this guy and his buddy (let’s call him Jim) goes to the opening day breakfast fundraiser, at the firehouse.

Bodacious Buffet

Getting there at 4:30 a.m., they get their usual seats and hit the buffet line. Wow! They have everything! Hot cakes, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, home fries, toast all washed down by orange juice and hot coffee. Being opening day, they figure on getting seconds to stave off the cold and carry them through at least lunchtime.

Stuffing themselves Jim tells his buddy about his new camouflage overhauls. “I’ll be practically invisible, plus it has a hood to keep my ears warm!” Looking at their watches, it’s time to head to Bear Mountain and claim their hunting spots.

sick hunter

Regretful Rumblings

The big breakfast, along with the exertion of climbing the mountain “triggers” something in Jim’s digestive tract. Sweating from severe stomach cramps, Jim reluctantly tells his cousin, “Hold on, I’ve gotta’ make a pit stop” as he meanders off the trail in total darkness. Shaking his head, the cousin watches the flashlight beam disappear off the trail…

Jim finds a good flat spot, quickly unzips his new coveralls and races to unbuckle his belt, “drops trou” as he squats, sticking his buttocks clear of his pants. Business done, he pulls everything up, buckles his belt and then pulls his overalls up. Feeling like a new man, he re-slings his rifle over his shoulder, pulls his hood back over his head and meets up with his cousin.

Hurrying to get to their spots, the cousin asks Jim, “You smell that? Did you step in something when you went to the bathroom?” Jim says, “No I didn’t, but I smell it too!” The more they walk, the stronger the smell becomes … what the heck?

Brutal Discovery

The curious cousin illuminates Jim’s face with his flashlight, looking for the source of the smell. The cousin half screams and laughs as he discovers Jim had deposited his intestinal sculpture inside his hood, and as he flung it over his head, it covered him from the head downward.

Jim rectified the situation as best he could, promptly cutting the hood off the coverall with his skinning knife. I’ve often wondered what the next hunter thought, stumbling across a partially discarded garment, perplexed as to who would make a deposit in a perfectly good hood?


Hatching Eggs

Funny how these stories start as a friend of a friend, so we’ll call this next guy John, for simplicity. Again, it’s opening day and John is excited, waiting all year for buck season. John’s hunting in WVA and goes through his 4:00 a.m. wake-up, eat, dress and out the door to get to his hunting spot. He’s hunted there for years, but being public ground, always gets there early, making sure he’s first in the wood.

His spot is an old abandoned barn, where he can lean against the old patina oak boards where he has a clear view of a field leading to the woods. It’s a cold, brisk morning, with a hard frost, but John makes it to the barn, and leans against the familiar wall and slowly slides to the ground. He has 45 minutes to daylight and closes his eyes for quick catnap

Wake-up Call

As the sun starts making day, John starts looking for moving deer. The rising sun feels good, warming John’s face as he thinks, “It’s going to be a beautiful day. Soon, other hunters will push the deer right to me.” John’s excited, knowing he’s in the perfect spot to ambush any deer from the other hunters. While the day is warming up nicely, John’s ol’-factory lobe picks up the indistinguishable odor of, um … well, you know what.

Cautiously looking around, he sees a white flag of sorts, a paper napkin from a fast-food restaurant. John’s eye’s widen, knowing it’s not a good sign as he slowly lifts his butt off the ground and scoots over a couple of feet revealing some freshly thawed-out, uhh — let’s call them eggs?

John had sat right where someone had previously squatted and his body heat, combined with the day warming up had thawed things out.
Bein’ a hard-core hunter, John took his pants off, abandoned them, and finished out the hunt in his long-john underwear. He was a sight when he was spotted hiking back to his truck that way, giving him legendary status, of course.

Contrary Confessions?

Fact is often stranger than fiction, but I believe these stories. Funny — unfortunate? — stuff happens when we’re hunting. My biggest problem is explaining to my wife about my missing hunting clothes should anything, um, uh … happen.

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