A day of deer hunting in northern Wisconsin turns out to be more than the young hunter bargained for. He encountered 3 unknown men in the woods, who turned out to have been deceased.
I received the following account:
"Hi. I was hunting in the northern woods of Ashland County, Wisconsin when I was 16. It was my first time going out and also the first time I was left alone with a gun. So, being a teenager, I was pretty excited. We woke at 5:30 AM and left before the sun rose above the horizon. Arriving on the trail, I walked to my ground stand alongside my brother, cousin, and father. Our stands were all aligned in a distant row, separated a few hundred feet. Located on the edge of an old logging road, the stands were easy to find. The stands ran perpendicular to the logging road, forming a straight line along the top of a hill in the dense forest. This wasn't your open field type of hunting land, this was real wilderness hunting land.
My stand was the closest to the logging road, so upon our arrival, my father helped me settle in before continuing through the dark forest with my brother and cousin. I got situated and he went on his way. I watched the light of his headlamp disappear into the trees and I waited for the sun to rise before loading my gun, as the season doesn't start until the sun comes up. Checking my watch, I saw it was about 6:15 AM, so I had some time to kill. I decided to spend the next hour or so catching up on the sleep I missed the previous night.
When I woke, it was because of a cold gust of wind that knocked snow into my lap. I jolted up and immediately checked my watch. 9:30 AM. I overslept and God knows how many deer I could've missed. After sulking in my stand, I felt pressure in my bladder and a need to relieve myself. I picked up my gun, chambered it, and walked backward behind my stand some 150 feet or so to make sure there would be no scent for the deer to pick up on. I opened my zipper and looked around as I did my business.
In the dense tree line, I noticed three men in blaze orange gathered together in a triangle. They all seemed to be talking with each other. At first, I thought it might've been my brother, father, and cousin, however, this was weird. Very weird. We have been the only family to hunt this land in the past 50 years. Once I finished, I picked up my gun and unloaded it before using my scope to sight out the group of people.
I wasn't hallucinating. It was three men huddled together, guns slung on their shoulders. I made sure to take a good long look at every feature I could pick up on. One man wore a thick, fuzzy hat that was all orange. Another man sported a stereotypical lumberjack beard. The final man wore wire-frame aviators. As I paned back across the group, the man with the wire-framed glasses looked back at me through the scope. I had caught their attention and fearing them to be game wardens, I dropped the scope from my eye. My heart rate hit the roof and I began fumbling with the magazine I had unloaded. While scrambling to fit the magazine in the gun, I managed to drop my glove in the snow. I bent down to pick it up and once I looked up, the men were gone.
Having realized the mistake I had made by pointing my gun at what could be DNR agents, I wanted to find them to explain the situation. I continued through the dense trees and saw the spot where the men were standing. Arriving at the point, I examined the undisturbed snow. There were no footprints. My heart rate quickened and I stopped to look around to see if I could see any orange through the brush. There was nothing around me. I was alone with the trees and snow.
I abandoned my search and returned to my stand, anxiously waiting for the end of the day so I could report to my father what I had seen. Once we made it back to our cabin, I berated him with questions.
"We're the only people that hunt up here right? Did you [my brother] and [my cousin] stay in your stands all day? "Did you see anyone walking around you guys because I did?"
My dad thought I was lying to him, as it was nearly impossible that other people had begun to hunt on this remote land. It felt like I was in those horror movies where the main character tries telling the others of the danger, yet no one would listen. My father eventually talked me down and I relaxed, convincing myself it was a group of new guys who were testing out the land.
Before I fell asleep that night, I began to examine the pictures beside my bed. What I saw turned me as pale as the sheet that covered me. Three men, three different pictures. A fourth picture with 1969 written on the back contained all three of them. They were posed around a giant buck that had bled out in the snow. One man wore a thick, fuzzy orange hat, the other man had a long, dark-haired beard, and the third man wore wire-frame glasses.
I sprung up out of my bed with the pictures and confronted my father.
"Who are these guys, dad?" I asked.
"Oh you wouldn't know 'em," he replied, returning his attention to the card game in front of him, "Those are the fellas that built this cabin back in '46 after the war." I felt as if I had gotten much colder after he had said that, but I pressed on.
"Who's this guy?" I asked, pointing to the man with the wire-framed glasses.
"Grandpa," My dad said.
My grandpa had been dead for years, ever since I was 9. In fact, all of them had been dead for years. I will never forget the look my grandpa gave me through that scope. He seemed angry with me based on the way his brow was furrowed. I will never forget that day." N
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