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Old 4 February 2010, 16:08
Magyc Magyc is offline
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Your stories about encounters with wildlife while on duty/serving, etc

Brought on by this thread and more specifically, pirana's post:

Quote:
The old advice from BUD/S:

When you sight a shark, the first thing to do is pull your knife and maintain visual contact with the creepy predator.

Observe his eyes, make certain that you can guage precisely wht his intentions are. If he makes a move for you, you'll know it thus.

Then, when it is unmistakably evident that you're his target, grasp the knife tightly, raise your arm, and at the final moment -

stab your swim buddy!
anyone have any stories about running into wildlife while out on the job?
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Old 4 February 2010, 16:12
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The Banana Spider thread is always a good read:

http://www.socnet.com/showthread.php...=banana+spider
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Old 4 February 2010, 16:26
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New to County rural patrol after coming from a city. I get a call about an unknown type animal damaging a house. I get out to a house in the hills at night and Im following this weird looking poop trail that looks like a diarrhea cow patty with seeds and berries in it?

Hmmmm, I say, thats weird looking poop? I then hear this grunt and snort. I shine my flashlight in the area of the noise, which was in the same direction of travel as the poop. I see this GIGANTIC black bear munching out of a tub of dog food on the porch of a shed about 20 ft away. He looked at me, I looked at him. He snorted again and went back to eating. I told the homeowner to stay inside and after the bear was done, move the dog food. The homeowner wanted me to "shooooo" away the bear and get the dog food. I said, "No, he's happy and that makes me happy, Good-bye."
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Old 4 February 2010, 16:28
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Pretty tame by comparison, but I am still glad we did it. Back in the day when out on an exercise at Fort Stewart, Georgia, we came upon a whitetail fawn. It was curled up in the grass/pine needles and covered, I mean covered in ticks. Its face and eyes were shut and it was just really bad. I don't remember the details of how we did it but we got it to a vet where it was taken care of.

And then there were the snakes. Lots of snakes. Diamondbacks and cottonmouths. Oh yes, I remember them. Fort Polk was particularly bad.


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Old 4 February 2010, 16:38
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Ah, Ft. Stewart.

Armadillos running over you while you slept. Boars running across live ranges.
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Old 4 February 2010, 16:38
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I was dispatched to a burglary call. I arrive to see the "victim" standing by his open garage door. He says that when after he left for work, someone ripped the screen off his garage window, and stole his full garbage can.

I can see the fur around the window frame, screen itself is ripped apart. Dude had a motion detector hooked up to his garage door, so when he entered, it would automatically open. Our "suspect" apparently climbed in, set off the motion detector, opening the large door, grabbed his loot and took off. I found him at the bottom of a nearby ravine, garbage spread out everywhere, he's in the middle of the pile munching away. My advice was the same. Wait until he's done, then go clean up your mess.

My timberwolf story is a good one (from another forum):
Quote:
...of course, you always have the 10% of dogs that are just a-holes.

Like Timberwolves. I had to investigate a burglary at a guy's garage. On my arrival I proceeded to his back deck, which appeared to be the main door to the residence. I saw Cujo at the top of the stairs resting. He had a thick (VERY thick) leather biker collar on which was attached to a 6x6 wooden deck support with a logging chain. (A thick logging chain... You know, the type used to pull redwoods around) I thought this was interesting, but Cujo didn't growl or bark, show any fang, or make any noise really, just wagged his tail and I thought I detected an internal smile from him. I later discovered the reason for his happiness. Lunch had arrived in the form of me. He apparently underestimated the length of his chain (lucky for me) by about two whole inches. As I approached his lair, he sprung up and lunged. Like I said... Two inches. Two more inches and he'd have ripped my face clean off. He moved so fast there was no time to even consider my use of force options. I didn't even have time to shit my pants.

The owner came out and calmed Cujo down with a single command. After that, I was friend, not food. I am 6'2, 250, and this thing dwarfed me when he stood on his hind legs. The owner said he used to keep him in a chain link fence enclosure, however he had to switch to the logging chain because Cujo had seen something outside the fence he wanted to eat and ripped a hole through the chain link to get whatever (or whoever) it was. Be very wary of Timberwolves.
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Finally, I believe that punishing lawful gun owners by creating new, more onerous laws, and restricting Constitutionally guaranteed rights, when we already don't enforce the tens of thousands of gun laws we have on the books, is like beating your dog because the neighbor's dog shit in your yard.
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Old 4 February 2010, 16:44
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The owner just let you back there Grog?

he had to know how his 'dog' would re-act...?

I mean we never let anyone near my older brothers big dog until we'd introduced them to it - we knew he'd go for em.

Man that smells like some dude looking to have some fun at your expense...
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Old 4 February 2010, 17:21
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One time,
at The Professional Adventurer Camp................
Ah, never mind.
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Old 4 February 2010, 17:36
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This happened at JOTC at Ft. Sherman, Panama in early 1992 while I was in the 101st. I was the Company Commander's RTO. We were moving through the Jungle, just the two of us, probably going from where one platoon was set up, to another. It was dark like I have never experienced before above ground. We both had NVGs on, but with the limited ambient light, they were not helping much--me anyway. I was walking behind the CO. About half way down the ridgeline trail the CO freezes--so I just stand their patiently behind him oblivious to the reason for the stop. We stand there for what felt like forever. Finally, he turns around, walks back to me and whispers "I just saw a great big fucking cat!” Then he resumes walking, me still in tow, now very much paranoid, with my M-16 and a combat load of blanks.

On a different note, still with Panama, the cadre told us a story of one poor soul who was left to guard rucksacks while the remainder of his platoon was off doing an ambush or raid or something. From the story, this ruck guard found himself on the receiving end of the shit flinging monkeys. In response, he began to fire blanks back at the monkeys. The instructor said that when they returned to gather up the equipment, they found their security covered in monkeys. The little darlings had banded together to take their revenge on the soldier. Since I am well aware that the BS filter on this site is second to none, I was curious to see if anyone else down that way ever heard that story or (worse) lived it.
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Old 4 February 2010, 17:38
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Working the night shift at the squadron, we were waiting for the last helos to come back. As we were standing around the smoke pit, we heard a loud "THWAAACK". As we looked around for what caused the noise we see a raccoon laying on the ground. We thought that maybe he had fallen off of the top of the hangar. Just when we looked up, an owl flew overhead, and rained down owl shit upon our location. We determined that the owl had tried to pick up the raccoon and the weight was too much for him or he gave a good fight. There was blood from the talon wounds. Then the raccoon began to regain consciousness. One of the ordies said we should club him to put him out of his misery. At that moment the raccoon gets up and tries to stumble off to the creek, as if to say “Nope, I’m good fellas. I’ll be alright. Just don’t fuckin’ club me…” Then he wandered off into the night.
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Old 4 February 2010, 17:55
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I posted this awhile back, I think the thread is now gone. True story:
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Originally Posted by SOTB
In 1983, I was TL for a patrol near the Subic Bay Naval Base in the P.I.

We had been moving through some pretty thick stuff all day and since I usually led my patrols from point, I was the one who was the hottest, most cut (from the thorns and blades of tall grass), and most tired (or at least my mind believed this). I'm guessing that the time of day was mid-late afternoon, around 1500 (hard to remember as we're talking about WELL over 20 years ago).

Anyway, I would usually, either avoid a really thick patch of vines or gently move them out of the way so as to not give the Marine following a slap in the face from a taught branch/vine and so as to not leave anymore of a trail than was going to occur with 6 guys moving far too quickly through an area not normally traveled. However, I was tired and sometimes finding myself forgetting to push the obstacles aside as I passed through/around.

On this particular obstacle (vines/bush), I followed a game trail and stooped down on my hands and knees to go underneath the vines. Unfortunately, one or two of the vines/branches caught on the frame of my ruck where my neck was. Apparently, my progress was such that I could not turn over or even back up to clear the vine. Neither could I reach up and disengage it from my ruck. And I couldn't go forward either. So here I am, in the middle of some brush patch, hot/tired/sweaty/pissed/cut/etc. and on my hands and knees -- with my team behind me and keying off my decisions and moves.

Screw it! I dug in with my feet and pushed forward and up. It didn't work at first, but finally, I heard the satisfying tear of the vines through the bushes, meaning that once again -- man had prevailed. "I" had shown mother nature that "I" was in charge. Dumb-ass planet, thinking it could conquer me.

I kept pushing until the vine broke, but with my force of the push, the torn vines allowed me to stumble and fall about a meter or two ahead of where the initial confrontation took place. As I gathered myself and started to stand I looked to my front and realized I was approximately 3-5 feet directly in front of a nest of bees/hornets/mean-assed somethings, the nest measuring the size of a grown man's torso and hung off the ground on the next bush in front of our direction of travel. I still remember my amazement of how hypnotizing it was to watch the "ocean-like" effect of their wings cooling the nest right in front of my face. I still believe that the number of these insects was EASILY in the thousands.

As soon as I realized what a really bad situation I was in (no, I'm not allergic to bee stings -- but thousands of stings?), I thought to myself that at least they didn't seem agitated. A few were flying around, and even passing near to my face, but no stings, no aggression -- nothing terrible, yet.

About this time, the Marine behind me managed to also push through the bush (remember how I said they keyed off of MY movements? So yeah, he ALSO pushed as hard as he could) and fell right into me, and knocking me forward. Hijo de su chin.... I turned to tell him to watch it and be quiet when the next Marine ALSO pushed through the bush and landed on us. One of these two was Pruitt (from another story that I might also repost) as I remember his face clearly and the climbing tone of his voice as he started to tell everyone to stop where they were. I cut him off and tried to tell those to the rear to stop moving when ANOTHER Marine ALSO pushed through the bush. AND landed on us. AND pushed me forward AGAIN. And of course, the last Marine didn't want to be left out and did the same.

So there you have it. One meritoriously promoted corporal at the front of, and slightly under, a mob of idiots -- and all within a couple of feet of a National Geographic moment.

I can probably count on one hand (two at most) the times in my life where I thought that at THAT moment I might actually "die". And FWIW, none of those times were when people were shooting at me -- THAT always seems manageable (in my limited experience). This is one of those times. In fact, I think it is one of the first, if not THE first time I thought I would probably die.

I don't remember looking behind me, but I do remember all of their faces wide-eyed and pale (even our dark-green Marine looked "lighter"). It looked like something out of a Keystone Cops scene with each face peering out from behind a telephone post, with no bodies visible, and ME being the telephone post. I remember thinking that I was pissed that I wasn't going to die with anyone I actually liked.

Well, of course, everyone asked me what we should do. OK, cool.

I tell them to NOT move and that we would SLOWLY head back to where we came from -- ONE by ONE. It seemed like a pretty good plan to me.

Before I could finish outlining the plan of action, they were gone.

Now I wish I could tell you that I sat there pissed and then only moved when I realized that the hive was agitated and moving towards me. The truth is that I don't even know if the hive ever got pissed as I took off right behind them. I don't know if the bees/hornets/insects from hell ever gave chase as I passed the rear Marine in our formation as he was in full-sprint from the AO. I did this, of course, so as to gain control of the team and redirect our movement.

I seem to remember that we broke noise discipline a bit during our leaving the area.
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Old 4 February 2010, 18:05
Ronin8002 Ronin8002 is offline
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This one isn't so much about my direct contact with wildlife, more like the contact of our ordnance with wildlife:

I was an arty FO at OP2 in Lejeune back in 04-05, we were firing PD fuzed rounds only that day. As I was looking out into the impact area, I took note of the ever-present vultures circling over the target area (I assume they take advantage of the fact that small prey are killed regularly by being in the wrong place at the wrong time).

A moment later, I noticed that we achieved an apparent airburst with one of the PD fuzed rounds, oddly enough in the same piece of sky as the vultures; all of which at this point began rapidly egressing the area.

After confirming with the battery that they didn't just fire a time fuse, my conclusion was that we just struck one of the unfortunate birds in mid-flight with a 155mm HE PD round.

The "big sky, little bullet" adage comes to mind, as well the famous video of Randy Johnson's fastball pitch that struck a passing bird.
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Old 4 February 2010, 18:40
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Ranger5280 View Post
Ah, Ft. Stewart.

Armadillos running over you while you slept. Boars running across live ranges.
Bedding down on a nest of fire ants.

The dog pack that surrounded me one night while I was taking a dump in Iraq was a little unnerving, but I guess technically I can't call them wildlife.

Hard as it was to believe, they were domesticated. And very territorial.
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Old 4 February 2010, 19:11
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I came face to face with a fawn, maybe ten feet in front of me during the day land-nav portion of EIB in 1985, everything green the way it gets there in South Rainier. We looked at each other for a second or two and then the deer just hopped/ran a couple steps and disappeared. For a second we could have been the only two living beings on the earth, then it was right back to finding the correct letter so I could get my shit.
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Old 4 February 2010, 19:52
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Goddamned fire ants...

Benning. Drill and Ceremony. I am assigned to a squad of retards. The DI's are pissed at all the retardedness. We have guys that can't tell direction. Left? Right? WTF is THAT?
These asshats are dropping their rifles, running into each other... Even I am pissed, and finding it ever harder to restrain myself. I also don't want to fuck up, to add to an already hot, pissed off staff.

They call us to a halt, for yet another ass chewing session. Guess who's standing on the fire ant hill from hell? Damn skippy. Your's truly. After the 2 minute chewing of the required portion of ass, we start marching again. The ants apparently had sent out a company sized recon element, complete with forward observers, onto both of my boots/pant legs.

Anyone that has to Benning knows that, during the July months, to keep our body temperature down, we walk around with unbloused boots. Not a bad idea in theory, however this barbaric practice gives the ants the advantage. These little demons from Satan's asshole had a clear shot, right to my wabos.

They were quite content with doing recon, until we started marching. This apparently made them think that it would be a good idea to begin their blitzkrieg attack on my calves. (Thank God their forward elements did not make it further north in their march)

If you have never been stung by these little fuckers, getting one or two stings is really not a big deal. They are kinda like a cross between a yellow jacket and hornet, only they are bigger assholes. The entire company had apparently received orders from their HQ to sting as many times as they could, and as hard as they could. Dandy.

After the first 30 or so stings, you would think that you wouldn't feel much anymore. I mean, you would think that something would start going numb, right? Nope. After a couple minutes, a halt was again called, and we were given "5" to take in our hourly dose of water, to prevent dehydration. Thank God for the threat of dehydration. I'm digging up my pant legs trying to get these Satan's little flame throwers out of my pants. One of the DIs came over and observed my predicament, and was nice enough to help. He was also nice enough to send me to the hospital. Those little fucksticks left stings on both my calves, I would say somewhere between 25 and 35 on each calf. They swell up like golf ball sized zits. They looked like golf ball sized zits. The felt like someone shoved a branding iron into each calf.

When I returned to the company area, the DI that helped me out before, took me aside and advised that, in the future, fire ants outrank DIs, and should I be attacked again, regardless of what we were doing, permission was granted to remove same attackers. He also commented about the hardcoredness of maintaining discipline while the ants feasted. I missed the entire MOUNT section of Basic, which they "fixed" for me.

I found out during the same injury that I am allergic to some forms of adhesive. Oh yeah. I had bandages around both calves, secured with, you guessed it, the same tape adhesive I am allergic to. Copious amounts of it, matter of fact. The areas under the tape, which had previously been the only parts of my calves that didn't take a direct assault, broke out in severe hives, blistering and swelled. Lucky me. The severe infection from all this, settled to my ankles after a couple days, causing the skin around both ankles to pretty much melt (for lack of a better descriptive word). It took three months of antibiotics, ointments, peroxide, and miles of bandage to fix the problem. I still have scars, 25 years later.

Fire ants are assholes.
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"....As far as "rights" are concerned... I look at them this way. I don't tell you what church to go to, and you don't tell me what kind of firearm I can own." GROG

If gun control laws controlled crime, we wouldn't need cops.
Quote:
Finally, I believe that punishing lawful gun owners by creating new, more onerous laws, and restricting Constitutionally guaranteed rights, when we already don't enforce the tens of thousands of gun laws we have on the books, is like beating your dog because the neighbor's dog shit in your yard.
"The Reaper"
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Old 4 February 2010, 19:55
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Waking up at LWC Tully with a rather large Taipan for company under the poncho liner was one of the more "memorable" moments...
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Old 4 February 2010, 20:01
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Similar thread and more stories here:

http://www.socnet.com/showthread.php...=animal+planet
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Old 4 February 2010, 20:03
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Fire ants up the leg and in the boot at night, brown recluse bite (not me), a buddy had a blue crab go up his trouser leg that he had to remove from the waist (super ouch), wild boar in the RON almost resulting in a live fire exercise, dolphin inspected a diver to closely (ever hear a grown man cry underwater?), sea lions swimming around divers, guy killed hyena that got too close, large gator in the PT area.

I think that sums it up.
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Old 4 February 2010, 20:09
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Quote:
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Ah, Ft. Stewart.

Armadillos running over you while you slept. Boars running across live ranges.
Ft. Drum and the evil Racoon gangs.
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Old 4 February 2010, 20:12
MeatLasagna MeatLasagna is offline
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I never knew ground bees existed until I directed my platoon of Sapper students to set in a clandestine PB for the last two hours of darkness. Yup, right on top of a colony that just seemed to wait for everyone to get settled in. Man, noise and light discipline was perfect up till when, starting from some EOBC 2LT's in the center of the row, little wimpers.. then, yup, little girl screams. Let me tell you - ladies are permitted to attend Sapper school, but there were none in my class - at least I had thought.. until that moment.

This city boy always had thought Bees live in Trees.
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