Must read for every hunter (posted from another site) not me
Jan 24, 2016 14:53:59 GMT -5
dadfsr and swetz like this
Post by schall53 on Jan 24, 2016 14:53:59 GMT -5
I was the hunter shot on Nov 18th.
Here are the facts:
Location: North side of Port Chalmers, Montague Island
Caliber: 30.06 180gr Rem CoreLokt
Time: 1140
Distance: Approx 70 yards
Weather: 25F, sunny, light winds
Terrain: Steep heavily timbered hillside, moderate underbrush. Ankle deep, crunchy snow.
Hunter Orange: None
The story:
This was day 4 of a 4 day hunt with a well known transporter. We had seen few deer and shot one--a button buck. For the last day we had decided to separate more (and BS less) and move slower. We were already 150 yards apart in open country as we approached the south face of a large, somewhat elongated and flat-topped hill covered in mature timber. I moved west another 400 yards to an open saddle while my partner continued north to the base of the hill. After a bit of glassing I turned northeast and worked my way up to and along the crest on the north side. I reached the approximate center of the hill top and turned south and made my way to the opposite crest. The timber was heavy enough that there was little to no snow on the hill top. Just frozen sphagnum moss covering everything.
After stopping for a few minutes to listen and glass I descended about 10 yards. I was struck by how pretty it was with the gold sunlight filtering through the trees. I stopped to take a few pictures. I was interrupted by the sound of movement off to my right (west) at my level and quickly slipped my phone in my pocket and brought my binos up trying to make out some part of a deer. I looked and looked. Nothing, so I moved downhill a bit more to get a better angle. Still nothing.
Then I heard movement again to my right but well downhill. Again I scanned with my bino's and found the face of my partner through a lane in the brush about 60 yards west of me and another 30 yards down slope. I relaxed and thought I'd make my way down to him and we'd have lunch but first I tried getting his attention. I waved at him. Then I pulled my hat off so he could see my full face and waved some more. I stopped to adjust my rifle sling on my left shoulder and looked away. I did not yell out because I didn't want to spook any deer that might be playing cat and mouse with us on this hill.
As I turned and waved at him again it happened.
What I'm about to describe happened in a tenth of a second or so but it seemed like slow motion--this effect is known as Temporal Distortion and it happens because your brain works much faster than your consciousness.
Anyway...I saw the muzzle flash--more smoke than flame, then I saw the rippling distortion behind the bullet followed by the "fwizzzz" of the bullet passing an inch over my left thumb. The bullet hit with sharp, heavy smack, and finally I heard the boom. I was essentially looking down the barrel when the trigger was pulled and saw it all because I was relaxed and not anticipating it.
I cried out "Oh ***k, ______ you just shot me!" in a voice that was half yell, half shriek.
Without hesitation my partner yelled back "No I didn't! I just shot a deer!"
I responded "NO YOU DIDN'T!! YOU SHOT ME!!"
"Oh my God. Oh my God. I'm so sorry. DON'T MOVE I'LL BE RIGHT THERE"
I was hit in the left shoulder and the bullet blew a large hole in my posterior deltoid muscle. After the initial shock to us both he grabbed his pack and scrambled up to me and as luck would have it, he carries a GSW dressing in his med kit "because you never know". The wound was dressed and under control within 5 or 6 minutes, but for those first two or three minutes, before it could be assessed, I thought I might be bleeding to death. Once I was assured I was going to live I had to then get myself to help since it was obvious I needed medical attention. We had a marine VHF radio in a "what if" duffle back on the beach. I asked my partner to carry my pack and rifle and I took off for the beach with my hand tucked in my shirt as an impromptu sling. The walk out was about a mile. I had no issues or falls on the walk out. I said some prayers of thanks and asked God to look out for my dear friend who would undoubtedly need help getting over this.
Here's the timeline:
1140: The shot
1146: wound dressed
1150: begin return to drop off/pick up point on beach
1210: reach drop off/pick up point (I got there about 20 mins ahead of partner)
1215: hail transporter on VHF 16 and tell him I've been shot
1215: transporter hails USCG Anchorage center with notice
1240: transporter picks us up in landing craft/skiff
1305: RTB main vessel
1331: USCG HH-60 Jayhawk launches from Kodiak
1532: HH-60 lands on small unnamed island in Port Chalmers
1540: HH-60 departs with me bound for Anchorage
1635: HH-60 lands at AK Regional
I was x-rayed, cleaned up, patched up and sent home with a handful of pain killers. No surgery, no stitches, but the ER doc did make a point to tell me that I came within an inch of dying. An inch higher and the bullet would've missed but an inch in any other direction and I bleed to death. Period, no maybe's. I either have my left arm blown off at the AC joint or I'm struck in the subclavian artery and top of left lung.
As it turns out I was incredibly lucky. Other than nicking the Acromion Process portion of my shoulder blade, the wound was all skin and muscle. There was no structural damage done to my shoulder and I'm within a few days of sloughing off the last bit of scab. I've already been splitting wood and even went snowmachining twice already. I have since been in the care of an orthopedic and a plastic surgeon since there was a discussion initially of me possibility of needing a skin graft. I will regain full use of my shoulder.
The news media got it all wrong, partly because the Coast Guard got it wrong. There was no Good Samaritan boater. The Coastie working the control/dispatch that afternoon was, judging from the tone of her voice, young and likely new to the Coast Guard and to Alaska--she didn't know where Montague was and she repeated several questions on her checklist but that's OK. We were all newbies at one time. I was picked up by the transporter who dropped me off that morning. That it was a commercial operation was lost in translation.
We made several errors that I want to lay out:
1) We failed to discuss a plan--my partner had no idea I was in front of him
2) I failed to wear something bright
3) He forgot his binoculars that morning
4) We both felt extra pressure to kill deer since it was the last day
5) Ultimately, he failed to verify his target
The power of the mind to see what it wants instead of what's there is a critical component of this mishap. This was not a case of blasting into the brush or snap shooting at movement. My partner looked at me for 30 seconds through a rifle scope before carefully squeezing off his shot. Between the mottled light, the brush, and the fact that I was wearing subdued clothes, including cattail camo pants he saw a deer where a man stood.
My waving outstretched hands? Antlers
My fully exposed pale face? a deer's butt
When he pulled the trigger he was looking at my left shoulder thinking it was the right shoulder of a buck quartering away. I was in the shade of a tree with the outer edge of my left arm and shoulder bathed in that golden light. Everything was black, darkish green or golden. Him being anxious and winded helped complete the illusion. He first looked at me at 5 power but his heart was racing and the crosshairs bouncing so he dialed down to 3 power for more field of view and even adjusted his trek pole/monopod shooting stick for a solid rest.
Some will call him an idiot and pass all sorts of holier-than-thou judgements and I have to say I debated whether or not to share this because this forum is chock full of sanctimonious know-it-all's, because that's the nature of the internet. You may judge but I won't. My friend is still my friend and will remain so because he is one of the best, most conscientious and honorable men I have ever met who happened to make a terrible mistake. And yes, it could have turned out far, far worse. But it didn't. As such, I called him and got his OK to post this because friends don't sandbag their friends.
The bottom line here, the one thing I want you to take away from this is if it could happen to him, it could happen to anyone.
Part 1: I shot my friend on Nov 18th. I was the shooter.
Before I start this I would like to thank a few members of this forum, some of who that has commented in this thread and still have the respect to let me tell my story on my own terms. They’ve known since the day after the incident and have allowed Erik and me to take our time telling the story. Obviously, Roger was on the trip as well, but not present during the shooting.
Those that know me know that I have spent a lifetime around firearms. Over forty years of experience now. I’ve hunted that entire time, I’ve taken multiple self-defense firearms classes, I’ve dedicated years to raising money for the Friends of NRA, and finally I have been a Hunter education and Bowhunter education instructor for the State of Alaska for the last five years. Up until this point, I have had exactly one negligent discharge with a hangun at age 16. Because I only violated one of the four rules of firearm safety, the only victim in that case was the floor. Other than that, and this recent incident, I have fired tens of thousands of rounds without a problem. I only mention this to put context on my level of experience, not as an excuse, just for people to realize that we can never be too careful.
As Erik mentioned, this was a four day trip with a well known outfitter. Every morning we were dropped off at the beach at a location of our choosing. We were picked up right at dark every evening. For the first few days, hunting conditions were really tough with lots of crunchy snow. The walking was easy, but you couldn’t do it silently. We spent a great deal of time catching up and visiting. Over the last few years our friendship has become closer and we were both really enjoying our time out in the woods. It was probably not the best hunting strategy, but time in the field isn’t always about hunting. He graciously allowed me to shoot a button buck he spotted on day one, but other than that we had been seeing very few dear. Sign was everywhere, but they could hear us coming for hundreds of yards away. I won’t speak for Erik, but I was getting pretty frustrated.
On day four we hit the beach. I deposited my emergency dry bag that contained a full change of arctic wear and our VHF radio. Two comments were made the night before that caused me to change my patterns. First, was comments made by the boat crew that there was no reason to carry the VHF because they’d only hear it from the beach. Second, was comments made that you really didn’t need binos for the short distances deer were seen at. Being tired of carrying the extra weight, I left the binos behind and left the VHF radio on the beach. We had a brief talk and decided that we would keep our talking to a minimum and walk very slowly for that day. Neither of us was wearing any type of bright clothing, much less hunter orange. Neither of us discussed any sort of plan if we lost sight of each other.
Within a few hours we had become separated. I’d been steadily working my way up some steep terrain and I believed that Erik was somewhere below me. I’d been following some big buck tracks and they were fresh. Periodically I’d catch a glimpse of the deer out ahead of me. I never spooked him and continued to follow his tracks. At some point I decided to take a break in the sun. I’d been working hard and was about to quit climbing the mountain I was on. After a power bar and water, I convinced myself that I would regret it forever if I didn’t finish the climb. I gathered my gear and quietly crept into the woods. There was very little snow in the deep woods and I usually would pick up the buck’s tracks when I reached an opening. As I entered the woods I heard crunching off to my left. My brain automatically assumed it was Erik because I’d yet to hear a deer making a crunching noise. Dead ahead of me I caught a glimpse of movement.
That glimpse of movement was Erik waving his hat brown hat to get my attention. I saw it as a deer’s tail waving across the white patch on the rump. His outstretched fingers, encased in brown leather gloves looked like antlers. I quietly stepped behind the spruce I had just come around and shed my pack. I extended my walking stick that I had a shooting saddle on top of it, mounted my rifle and looked up the hill into the darkness. I had the scope power turned up too far, so I relaxed and lowered it to 3x. I looked back up the hill, located what I thought was a deer’s rump, looked a little right and saw what looked like the antlers of a deer grazing. I could clearly see the top hump of the deer’s shoulder; I lowered half way down, settled my breath and fired the shot. In an instant both of our lives changed forever. Immediately after the recoil I couldn’t see anything in my scope anymore and for a moment I felt that excitement of a shot well fired.
That moment was short lived. Erik cried out that I’d shot him. I looked left, because that’s where I thought he was, and shouted that I’d shot a deer. I honestly thought he was screwing with me until he slid down the slope into a patch of light. I honestly don’t know what happened next, but I do remember removing the round I’d automatically jacked into the chamber after the shot. I put the rifle down and quickly ran up the hill a few steps. At that moment I’m sure Erik and I were communicating, but I don’t recall what was said. I do know that the relief of him talking to me brought me out of the panic. I quickly turned heal, realizing my med kid was in my pack, grabbed it and headed up hill. In my earlier life as an EMT I’d treated three GSW’s and only one had survived. Nobody can describe the relief when I arrived to see a relatively minor wound on Erik’s shoulder. Don’t get me wrong, a 30-06 to the top of the shoulder is a major deal, but it wasn’t as major as I’d seen. I buried my shame and a flood of other emotions and went into medic mode. I carry several appropriate GSW bandages in my kit and an Israeli compression bandage did the job nicely. I can’t recall the order of our conversation, but I know we talked about the severity of the wound. One thing that I’ll never forget, though, is Erik telling me that in no way would this ever affect our friendship. No kinder words were ever uttered by a man to another man at that point.
Once bandaged, we made a plan to head to the beach. I carried all the gear and Erik made his way on his own. Unfortunately, even wounded, Erik is a speedy dude. At one point I lost him and that caused me more panic. Once again we didn’t communicate well enough. It all worked out as he was at the beach digging into my emergency bag for the radio. Luck was on our side and the crew of the boat heard our calls. Erik pretty well spells out what happened after that.
On November 18th, I negligently shot one of my best friends and one of the finest human beings I know. I make no excuses. I made an error that I thought would never happen to me, and that’s precisely why it happened to me.
In part 2 I will share the aftermath and lessons we learned..
Here are the facts:
Location: North side of Port Chalmers, Montague Island
Caliber: 30.06 180gr Rem CoreLokt
Time: 1140
Distance: Approx 70 yards
Weather: 25F, sunny, light winds
Terrain: Steep heavily timbered hillside, moderate underbrush. Ankle deep, crunchy snow.
Hunter Orange: None
The story:
This was day 4 of a 4 day hunt with a well known transporter. We had seen few deer and shot one--a button buck. For the last day we had decided to separate more (and BS less) and move slower. We were already 150 yards apart in open country as we approached the south face of a large, somewhat elongated and flat-topped hill covered in mature timber. I moved west another 400 yards to an open saddle while my partner continued north to the base of the hill. After a bit of glassing I turned northeast and worked my way up to and along the crest on the north side. I reached the approximate center of the hill top and turned south and made my way to the opposite crest. The timber was heavy enough that there was little to no snow on the hill top. Just frozen sphagnum moss covering everything.
After stopping for a few minutes to listen and glass I descended about 10 yards. I was struck by how pretty it was with the gold sunlight filtering through the trees. I stopped to take a few pictures. I was interrupted by the sound of movement off to my right (west) at my level and quickly slipped my phone in my pocket and brought my binos up trying to make out some part of a deer. I looked and looked. Nothing, so I moved downhill a bit more to get a better angle. Still nothing.
Then I heard movement again to my right but well downhill. Again I scanned with my bino's and found the face of my partner through a lane in the brush about 60 yards west of me and another 30 yards down slope. I relaxed and thought I'd make my way down to him and we'd have lunch but first I tried getting his attention. I waved at him. Then I pulled my hat off so he could see my full face and waved some more. I stopped to adjust my rifle sling on my left shoulder and looked away. I did not yell out because I didn't want to spook any deer that might be playing cat and mouse with us on this hill.
As I turned and waved at him again it happened.
What I'm about to describe happened in a tenth of a second or so but it seemed like slow motion--this effect is known as Temporal Distortion and it happens because your brain works much faster than your consciousness.
Anyway...I saw the muzzle flash--more smoke than flame, then I saw the rippling distortion behind the bullet followed by the "fwizzzz" of the bullet passing an inch over my left thumb. The bullet hit with sharp, heavy smack, and finally I heard the boom. I was essentially looking down the barrel when the trigger was pulled and saw it all because I was relaxed and not anticipating it.
I cried out "Oh ***k, ______ you just shot me!" in a voice that was half yell, half shriek.
Without hesitation my partner yelled back "No I didn't! I just shot a deer!"
I responded "NO YOU DIDN'T!! YOU SHOT ME!!"
"Oh my God. Oh my God. I'm so sorry. DON'T MOVE I'LL BE RIGHT THERE"
I was hit in the left shoulder and the bullet blew a large hole in my posterior deltoid muscle. After the initial shock to us both he grabbed his pack and scrambled up to me and as luck would have it, he carries a GSW dressing in his med kit "because you never know". The wound was dressed and under control within 5 or 6 minutes, but for those first two or three minutes, before it could be assessed, I thought I might be bleeding to death. Once I was assured I was going to live I had to then get myself to help since it was obvious I needed medical attention. We had a marine VHF radio in a "what if" duffle back on the beach. I asked my partner to carry my pack and rifle and I took off for the beach with my hand tucked in my shirt as an impromptu sling. The walk out was about a mile. I had no issues or falls on the walk out. I said some prayers of thanks and asked God to look out for my dear friend who would undoubtedly need help getting over this.
Here's the timeline:
1140: The shot
1146: wound dressed
1150: begin return to drop off/pick up point on beach
1210: reach drop off/pick up point (I got there about 20 mins ahead of partner)
1215: hail transporter on VHF 16 and tell him I've been shot
1215: transporter hails USCG Anchorage center with notice
1240: transporter picks us up in landing craft/skiff
1305: RTB main vessel
1331: USCG HH-60 Jayhawk launches from Kodiak
1532: HH-60 lands on small unnamed island in Port Chalmers
1540: HH-60 departs with me bound for Anchorage
1635: HH-60 lands at AK Regional
I was x-rayed, cleaned up, patched up and sent home with a handful of pain killers. No surgery, no stitches, but the ER doc did make a point to tell me that I came within an inch of dying. An inch higher and the bullet would've missed but an inch in any other direction and I bleed to death. Period, no maybe's. I either have my left arm blown off at the AC joint or I'm struck in the subclavian artery and top of left lung.
As it turns out I was incredibly lucky. Other than nicking the Acromion Process portion of my shoulder blade, the wound was all skin and muscle. There was no structural damage done to my shoulder and I'm within a few days of sloughing off the last bit of scab. I've already been splitting wood and even went snowmachining twice already. I have since been in the care of an orthopedic and a plastic surgeon since there was a discussion initially of me possibility of needing a skin graft. I will regain full use of my shoulder.
The news media got it all wrong, partly because the Coast Guard got it wrong. There was no Good Samaritan boater. The Coastie working the control/dispatch that afternoon was, judging from the tone of her voice, young and likely new to the Coast Guard and to Alaska--she didn't know where Montague was and she repeated several questions on her checklist but that's OK. We were all newbies at one time. I was picked up by the transporter who dropped me off that morning. That it was a commercial operation was lost in translation.
We made several errors that I want to lay out:
1) We failed to discuss a plan--my partner had no idea I was in front of him
2) I failed to wear something bright
3) He forgot his binoculars that morning
4) We both felt extra pressure to kill deer since it was the last day
5) Ultimately, he failed to verify his target
The power of the mind to see what it wants instead of what's there is a critical component of this mishap. This was not a case of blasting into the brush or snap shooting at movement. My partner looked at me for 30 seconds through a rifle scope before carefully squeezing off his shot. Between the mottled light, the brush, and the fact that I was wearing subdued clothes, including cattail camo pants he saw a deer where a man stood.
My waving outstretched hands? Antlers
My fully exposed pale face? a deer's butt
When he pulled the trigger he was looking at my left shoulder thinking it was the right shoulder of a buck quartering away. I was in the shade of a tree with the outer edge of my left arm and shoulder bathed in that golden light. Everything was black, darkish green or golden. Him being anxious and winded helped complete the illusion. He first looked at me at 5 power but his heart was racing and the crosshairs bouncing so he dialed down to 3 power for more field of view and even adjusted his trek pole/monopod shooting stick for a solid rest.
Some will call him an idiot and pass all sorts of holier-than-thou judgements and I have to say I debated whether or not to share this because this forum is chock full of sanctimonious know-it-all's, because that's the nature of the internet. You may judge but I won't. My friend is still my friend and will remain so because he is one of the best, most conscientious and honorable men I have ever met who happened to make a terrible mistake. And yes, it could have turned out far, far worse. But it didn't. As such, I called him and got his OK to post this because friends don't sandbag their friends.
The bottom line here, the one thing I want you to take away from this is if it could happen to him, it could happen to anyone.
Part 1: I shot my friend on Nov 18th. I was the shooter.
Before I start this I would like to thank a few members of this forum, some of who that has commented in this thread and still have the respect to let me tell my story on my own terms. They’ve known since the day after the incident and have allowed Erik and me to take our time telling the story. Obviously, Roger was on the trip as well, but not present during the shooting.
Those that know me know that I have spent a lifetime around firearms. Over forty years of experience now. I’ve hunted that entire time, I’ve taken multiple self-defense firearms classes, I’ve dedicated years to raising money for the Friends of NRA, and finally I have been a Hunter education and Bowhunter education instructor for the State of Alaska for the last five years. Up until this point, I have had exactly one negligent discharge with a hangun at age 16. Because I only violated one of the four rules of firearm safety, the only victim in that case was the floor. Other than that, and this recent incident, I have fired tens of thousands of rounds without a problem. I only mention this to put context on my level of experience, not as an excuse, just for people to realize that we can never be too careful.
As Erik mentioned, this was a four day trip with a well known outfitter. Every morning we were dropped off at the beach at a location of our choosing. We were picked up right at dark every evening. For the first few days, hunting conditions were really tough with lots of crunchy snow. The walking was easy, but you couldn’t do it silently. We spent a great deal of time catching up and visiting. Over the last few years our friendship has become closer and we were both really enjoying our time out in the woods. It was probably not the best hunting strategy, but time in the field isn’t always about hunting. He graciously allowed me to shoot a button buck he spotted on day one, but other than that we had been seeing very few dear. Sign was everywhere, but they could hear us coming for hundreds of yards away. I won’t speak for Erik, but I was getting pretty frustrated.
On day four we hit the beach. I deposited my emergency dry bag that contained a full change of arctic wear and our VHF radio. Two comments were made the night before that caused me to change my patterns. First, was comments made by the boat crew that there was no reason to carry the VHF because they’d only hear it from the beach. Second, was comments made that you really didn’t need binos for the short distances deer were seen at. Being tired of carrying the extra weight, I left the binos behind and left the VHF radio on the beach. We had a brief talk and decided that we would keep our talking to a minimum and walk very slowly for that day. Neither of us was wearing any type of bright clothing, much less hunter orange. Neither of us discussed any sort of plan if we lost sight of each other.
Within a few hours we had become separated. I’d been steadily working my way up some steep terrain and I believed that Erik was somewhere below me. I’d been following some big buck tracks and they were fresh. Periodically I’d catch a glimpse of the deer out ahead of me. I never spooked him and continued to follow his tracks. At some point I decided to take a break in the sun. I’d been working hard and was about to quit climbing the mountain I was on. After a power bar and water, I convinced myself that I would regret it forever if I didn’t finish the climb. I gathered my gear and quietly crept into the woods. There was very little snow in the deep woods and I usually would pick up the buck’s tracks when I reached an opening. As I entered the woods I heard crunching off to my left. My brain automatically assumed it was Erik because I’d yet to hear a deer making a crunching noise. Dead ahead of me I caught a glimpse of movement.
That glimpse of movement was Erik waving his hat brown hat to get my attention. I saw it as a deer’s tail waving across the white patch on the rump. His outstretched fingers, encased in brown leather gloves looked like antlers. I quietly stepped behind the spruce I had just come around and shed my pack. I extended my walking stick that I had a shooting saddle on top of it, mounted my rifle and looked up the hill into the darkness. I had the scope power turned up too far, so I relaxed and lowered it to 3x. I looked back up the hill, located what I thought was a deer’s rump, looked a little right and saw what looked like the antlers of a deer grazing. I could clearly see the top hump of the deer’s shoulder; I lowered half way down, settled my breath and fired the shot. In an instant both of our lives changed forever. Immediately after the recoil I couldn’t see anything in my scope anymore and for a moment I felt that excitement of a shot well fired.
That moment was short lived. Erik cried out that I’d shot him. I looked left, because that’s where I thought he was, and shouted that I’d shot a deer. I honestly thought he was screwing with me until he slid down the slope into a patch of light. I honestly don’t know what happened next, but I do remember removing the round I’d automatically jacked into the chamber after the shot. I put the rifle down and quickly ran up the hill a few steps. At that moment I’m sure Erik and I were communicating, but I don’t recall what was said. I do know that the relief of him talking to me brought me out of the panic. I quickly turned heal, realizing my med kid was in my pack, grabbed it and headed up hill. In my earlier life as an EMT I’d treated three GSW’s and only one had survived. Nobody can describe the relief when I arrived to see a relatively minor wound on Erik’s shoulder. Don’t get me wrong, a 30-06 to the top of the shoulder is a major deal, but it wasn’t as major as I’d seen. I buried my shame and a flood of other emotions and went into medic mode. I carry several appropriate GSW bandages in my kit and an Israeli compression bandage did the job nicely. I can’t recall the order of our conversation, but I know we talked about the severity of the wound. One thing that I’ll never forget, though, is Erik telling me that in no way would this ever affect our friendship. No kinder words were ever uttered by a man to another man at that point.
Once bandaged, we made a plan to head to the beach. I carried all the gear and Erik made his way on his own. Unfortunately, even wounded, Erik is a speedy dude. At one point I lost him and that caused me more panic. Once again we didn’t communicate well enough. It all worked out as he was at the beach digging into my emergency bag for the radio. Luck was on our side and the crew of the boat heard our calls. Erik pretty well spells out what happened after that.
On November 18th, I negligently shot one of my best friends and one of the finest human beings I know. I make no excuses. I made an error that I thought would never happen to me, and that’s precisely why it happened to me.
In part 2 I will share the aftermath and lessons we learned..
