This one isn't truly a hunting story but it took place while hunting and involved the potential use of guns. Still the funniest prank any involved have ever pulled.
We were hunting our favorite area of southern Manitoba for deer and jump shooting ducks, in the Pembina River Valley. Now those familiar with the very flat plains like southern Manitoba will know that occasionally a river will cut a meandering valley that just seems to appear out of nowhere on the flat plains. The Pembina is typically about 200' feet vertical, 1 mile across at the top and 1/2' across at the bottom.
There was five of us, my brother and I and two good Winnipeg friends plus a school friend of my brother and I who had flown out from Ottawa. Scott liked hunting and had been out before but he is also a government bureaucrat and probably votes Liberal. In short, in Canada, a classic Ontario Liberal. In the previous few years in Canada there had been some violent confrontations with native bands, particularly with Mohawks in eastern Ontario and Quebec. Close to where Scott lived.
Now, in the area we hunt, which is reasonably close to a reservation, someone at some time had erected a large billboard sized sign of an Indian on horseback. This sign was perched on the top edge of the valley and depending on where you were down below, often silhouetted against the sky. But please understand, it was probably 15' high....way, way bigger than life sized.
Scott arrived at the hunting cabin the night before and we peppered the evening's conversation with "the natives are restless these days" kinds of comments, with all of us in on the joke making out-sized declarations of what we would do, guns in hand, if we ran into any "problems" the next day. Scott decided to let discretion be the better part of valour that night and kept his own tongue in his mouth but we could all see the hook was set.
The next day we were using two trucks and had Scott in the rear truck. At the appointed bend in the valley bottom road, which after rounding the silhouette became very visible, the lead truck suddenly slammed on the brakes and reversed wildly back towards the second truck, with the second truck following suit. We all jumped out, deer rifles in hand, with Scott wondering what the hell was going on. The occupants of the first truck began to tell a story of being fired upon from just up around the corner. We timed it so that Scott would have just had a fleeting moment to have his attention directed to the valley rim and see the silhouette before we all backed up to where it was hidden again. He would have briefly seen a glimpse of a "brave" on horseback. We actually used the term "brave". We all began to talk boldly while making all sorts of disparaging comments about the local native population along the lines of "well if they want a fight, they got one!!" Scott was looking like he thought he was hallucinating.
As a group, we began to creep forward, ostensibly to get a look at the horseman who had shot at us, all the while talking up the problem. Scott was pleading desperately for us not to "escalate" the problem and warning us it may be the spark for a full scale uprising. As we rounded the edge of the trees to where we could see, we kept the conversation the same but just let the reality of what that silhouette was sink in.
Whenever we are together we can't help reminiscing about it and laughing our asses off. Scott has never forgiven us.
