Blood on the Leaves: Real Hunting Accident Investigations-And Lessons in Hunter Safety
336
Blood on the Leaves: Real Hunting Accident Investigations-And Lessons in Hunter Safety
336Paperback
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781586671570 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. |
| Publication date: | 09/01/2015 |
| Pages: | 336 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.40(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.80(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Blood on the Leaves
Real Hunting Accident Investigations â" And Lessons In Hunter Safety
By Rod Slings, Mike Van Durme, B. Keith Byers
ROWMAN & LITTLEFIELD
Copyright © 2015 Lyons PressAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-58667-157-0
CHAPTER 1
The First Time I Got Shot ...
The hardest thing to see is what is in front of your eyes.
— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The first time I got shot, I was surprised. It happened so fast, and, like everyone else, I thought it would never happen to me.
Through most of my career I have been a police officer and a firearms instructor. I also taught Street Survival. I was well trained in the proper use of firearms, as well as when and how to respond with deadly physical force. Early in my career I rarely had to draw my sidearm. I remember the first time distinctly: Two vicious dogs and a homeless man with a brick attacked me, and I pulled my gun as a deterrent — it worked.
I was also careful to always practice good situational awareness, always very conscious of who had a firearm and where it was pointed. As a conservation officer, I knew that every hunter and fisherman I checked would have at least one knife, and many would have firearms. I was sure I would always be able to see trouble coming and be able to respond properly to protect myself and anyone else — or so I thought.
I was on patrol as a New York State environmental conservation police officer when I got the complaint — someone was using a rifle to hunt ducks on one of the State Wildlife Management Areas near me. Anyone hunting ducks in July, with a rifle, was a different call indeed, and I was anxious to catch the poacher in the act.
When I got to the area, I found a car parked near the dike of a large impoundment. As I got out of my patrol car, I clearly heard a gunshot from a long way into the marsh and saw a flock of ducks take to the air, confirming what had been reported.
The challenge was to catch the poachers in the act before they could destroy any evidence. I didn't waste time putting on hip boots; I just hurried across the hummocks and through the cattails in the direction of the shots. I could stay out of the water most of the time, but often there was no choice but to wade knee-deep through the muck as I stalked closer. They were clearly moving, probably in a canoe, and soon I got close enough to study them through my binoculars.
Sure enough, there was a canoe with older men in the bow and stern, along with a younger boy in the middle. While I was glad to see the youngster was wearing a bright orange life jacket, I still needed to investigate the shots. They had .22 rifles and were paddling along and then raising their rifles to shoot at ... frogs!
Now the shots made sense! It was indeed frog season, and they were just hunting frogs. The person calling in the complaint had heard the shots, seen the ducks fly away, and just assumed someone was hunting ducks.
I understood the confusion. Frog hunting was not real popular in this area to begin with, and most frog hunters used spears rather than firearms. I found myself getting excited — I had never checked a frog hunter before.
According to New York state law, you can only hunt frogs from sunrise to sunset; and as it was getting close to sunset, I could tell they were headed back toward their car. I decided to circle around to the road and check their licenses when they came ashore.
But I was not ready to give myself away just yet. I stayed just over the back side of the dike, out of sight, in case they had something to hide. Soon they were paddling across the open water toward my position. As they drew closer, I stepped on top of the dike, about fifteen feet above the water line.
I had my Stetson tipped smartly forward, hands on my hips, with the fiery sun just beginning to set behind me. Anyone watching would have been impressed by such a striking sight!
The occupants of the canoe continued toward me. When they were about thirty yards away, the gentleman in the front put his paddle down and slowly raised his rifle in my direction. A little shocked by his unexpected actions, I just stood there, looking at him and wondering, What the heck is he doing?
I wasn't afraid at all — nobody would just up and shoot at the game warden. All of a sudden there was a bang and a zip past my left ear! Before I could even react, I was brought to my knees, seeing stars and grabbing my ear, which now hurt like heck!
I pulled my hand away and there was blood! What the?! I couldn't believe it — Hey! He just shot me ... in the ear!
They could certainly see me now as I quickly jumped up and ordered them to shore. As they beached the canoe, I grabbed their rifles, first from the man in the front of the canoe and then from the one in the back. I told them to stand aside and then I informed the man in the front that he had just shot me!
I demanded both their hunting and driver's licenses. With those in hand, I walked down the bank, headed back to my car, and got on the radio to call for backup. I was able to get in touch with my partner, who was not far away. I told him where I was and that I had just been shot. My attempts to reach the state police were unsuccessful.
After making those quick calls, I checked my ear again. Although it still hurt, the bleeding had almost stopped. By the luck of genes and Godly design, I have unattached earlobes; apparently the bullet just ripped through the end of my lobe.
At the same moment, though, I was struck by the thought that this bullet had passed within an inch of my carotid artery! If I had attached earlobes, or if the bullet was just one inch closer, I could have been dead!
I also realized that the shooter must have seen a frog at the edge of the water in front of me. When he shot at the frog the bullet ricocheted off the water and hit my ear. He hadn't looked up and hadn't seen me, despite my being in plain sight on top of the dike, just a short distance away. I was just above his line of sight.
I finally got through to the state police via my radio. I explained where I was, that I had been shot, and that I needed to run a file check on the firearms. I was giving them the make, caliber, and serial numbers as my partner arrived. When he stepped out of the car, I was pleased to see he was wearing the new bulletproof vest he had just been issued. I was junior to him, so my vest would be delivered later, but even if I had it, it could not have protected my ear.
The state police radio response to my request was unexpected, to say the least. Apparently the rifle that had been used to shoot me had been stolen — in Los Angeles! This put a whole new spin on everything. My partner and I went back up the dike to question the hunters and get to the bottom of this stolen rifle report.
After informing the shooter of the charges being considered against him, the guy became indignant.
He said, "You can't accuse me of shooting you! I have been hunting for almost fifty years and never shot anybody!"
I responded that the goal in hunting is to go your whole life without shooting anybody! Having a perfect record for fifty years did not give anyone permission to shoot anybody, much less me!
He became even more upset when I informed him that his .22 was apparently stolen. He insisted he had purchased it new in Pennsylvania about thirty years ago and had owned it ever since. Taking a look at the gun, I agreed it did look to be about thirty years old, but the information from our statewide criminal database reported it as stolen. We returned to the car to follow up on that important detail and finally got the troopers to call LAPD for more information.
It turned out that the stolen rifle was actually a newer model Winchester bolt action, while the one I was holding was an older model Winchester pump action. Apparently Winchester had just reused the serial number. The NYSPIN computer database only records the make, caliber, and serial number, not the model number, so the "stolen" claim was an honest mistake.
I formally charged the shooter with Assault, Reckless Endangerment, and Discharging a Firearm across a Roadway, as the bullet that hit my ear had continued on across the road behind me. Obviously not happy with these charges, the shooter explained he was the head of a statewide sportsman's group!
"Shouldn't that count for something?" he asked.
I told him he should ask all his members if being their leader made it okay to shoot a game warden.
When I met with my boss the next day, he was not exactly happy; he thought I had been a little heavy-handed with the charges. However, he would support me and we would see what the courts would do. But he made it quite clear that he did not want me to file a hunting accident report. After all, I was "not really shot that bad."
It was now my turn to be unhappy. I was frustrated with his decision but had to concur. After all, in those days the report was just two pages long, and we really did not put a lot of effort into filling them out. A hunting accident report was more of a data collection form for the Hunter Education Program run by the State of New York. Most states followed similar protocols. Even though the law required all other police agencies to report all hunting accidents to us, most agencies did not. As a result, we would often read about hunting accidents as reported in the newspaper, many days after the incident.
When he appeared in court, the hunter was allowed to plead to lesser charges, but his hunting license was suspended for two years and he was ordered to retake the Hunter Education course before he could buy another license.
While I was told not to take the time to fill out a report on the shooting, the shooter took the time to file a personnel complaint against me. In the complaint he listed several grievances: I had been hiding in the cattails when I was shot; therefore, it was my fault. My partner had shown up wearing a flak jacket. The shooter had been accused of having stolen the rifle when in fact it was not stolen. Perhaps worst of all — I had yelled at them.
After a brief internal investigation, it was determined that only the last charge might have been true, and all my bosses agreed it might be okay to yell at someone, especially after he shot you.
My first personal experience as a victim of a hunting accident made for some good cocktail stories and office banter, but it also started a real fire within me; it created a passion for the truth that was to be fueled again and again.
Knowing how frustrated I felt, as a professional I knew we needed to do better when we responded to these incidents for everyone else — other law officers, hunters, and innocent bystanders. I also knew I never wanted to be shot again — even if was just a nick to one of my too-long ears!
Lessons Learned
• Identify your target and what is beyond it. The frog hunter saw what he was hunting for but never took the time to look beyond that target to see if it was safe to fire in that direction. I was in plain sight just beyond his target.
• Never shoot at anything unless you are sure you have a safe backstop. There was a road just over the dike, in the direct line of fire. The shooter was too caught up in the excitement of the shot to ensure the safety of the shot.
• Bullets can ricochet off water, so be very careful when shooting toward water. Shooting straight down at a frog will not result in a ricochet, but shooting across the water at a low angle will almost always cause a ricochet.
CHAPTER 2A Trip to a Local Sporting Goods Store Brings Back Vivid Memories
The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.
— Charles Dickens
Frequenting sporting goods stores to purchase tactical gear for an upcoming training academy is something pretty common in my work investigating hunting incidents. But bumping into someone who has any familiarity with a specific incident is not common — at all.
During one shopping expedition, I approached the checkout counter with the items I needed. The older lady at the cash register asked if I had found everything okay.
Taking a look at what I had laid out, she then said, "Haven't I seen these items before?"
I told her I was a retired wildlife law enforcement supervisor and was using the items for an upcoming training. I went on to explain that my specialty was investigating hunting incidents and that I had a consulting business with two partners from other states. I told her our business provided litigation support, we could be called as subject matter experts, and that we also trained wildlife officers in hunting incident investigation techniques.
Her face brightened at my explanation. She said, "Oh, my husband had a hunting accident about twenty years ago. He was very lucky the gun didn't go off."
She went on to say, "Two wildlife officers came to the hospital to interview him about the accident."
I immediately pointed under my chin and asked, "Is this where the injury was?"
She was a bit surprised. "Why, yes!"
I responded, "I investigated a case where the hunter slipped and fell on the muzzle of his 20-gauge shotgun barrel; acting much like an 'apple corer,' it entered under his chin and thrust up into his sinuses."
With a puzzled look on her face, she looked me over and then exclaimed, "Yes! That was my husband!"
I reminded her that the accident had happened south of there about forty miles and that he had two sons with him.
She shook her head in agreement. "Yes, our son and grandson were hunting with him."
Her memories stirred my own. It was late January, and the father, son, and grandson were quail hunting in the southern part of the state when the incident occurred. The ground was covered with snow, and a recent ice storm had coated the snow with a slick, hard crust. The group had split up after a covey break and were searching for the individual quail that had scattered.
The father was walking up a steep hill. Due to the icy, slick conditions, he sometimes was using the fence to pull himself up the hill. He was using a "two-handed carry," where the 20-gauge shotgun is held in a vertical position, when all of a sudden he slipped.
As he fell to his knees, the muzzle slipped under his chin. He was quickly impaled as the muzzle was driven up and in by the force of his fall.
The shotgun's barrel went up into his throat at such a specific degree that it barely missed his spinal cord. Fortunately, the impact of the butt of the shotgun hitting the hard ground did not cause the gun to discharge. The safety was on, and it worked! However, his wound was pretty severe, and he began to bleed profusely.
When he attempted to yell, not much sound came out due to the location of the injury. Luckily his son and grandson thought they heard something just over the hill and walked toward the sound. They saw him on the slick hillside, lying in pool of blood, which was soaking the snow. They worked their way to his side to render aid and used a cell phone to call 911.
Due to the remote location, rescue seemed to take forever, but he was eventually flown to the nearest trauma center, where he underwent several surgeries to repair the damage caused by the muzzle.
His wife, the cashier who just happened to wait on me, told me that after one of his surgeries, she spent the night at his bedside. When she woke up, his hospital bed was covered in blood and his skin was very cold to the touch. She ran out to the nurses' station and summoned help.
Soon about nine doctors and nurses were in the room working on him due to the large amount of blood loss. He survived but did lose sight in one eye, as the shotgun muzzle had severed the optic nerve.
I was pleased to hear that he was living a comfortable life with his family and very thankful the outcome had not been worse.
I left the store thinking about coincidences of running into someone directly related to an incident from my own past, and the providence that this incident had ended well for all.
Lessons Learned
• Always keep the safety finger out of the trigger guard until you are ready to fire.
• When on difficult or steep terrain, always unload your firearm.
• The "carry" you choose to use is very important. A two-handed carry is a good carry; however, always remember that holding the firearm in a horizontal position allows the firearm to point left or right — away from your body but possibly in the direction of another hunter. Never point the muzzle toward your hunting companions when using this carry.
• Many hunters use a "sling" on their firearm. In this case, a sling would have allowed the hunter to use both hands to pull himself up the hill. Even so, it is prudent to unload the firearm, even with a sling, especially on difficult terrain. This type of injury would not have happened if either of these options had been practiced.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Blood on the Leaves by Rod Slings, Mike Van Durme, B. Keith Byers. Copyright © 2015 Lyons Press. Excerpted by permission of ROWMAN & LITTLEFIELD.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Introductions of the Authors Rod Slings Keith Byers Michael Van Durme xi
Introduction xxv
1 The First Time I Got Shot 1
2 A Trip to a Local Sporting Goods Store Brings Back Vivid Memories 9
3 He Loved His Boys 13
4 Hunting Giant Squirrels 17
5 That's Not Possible 23
6 Coyote Hunting 29
7 Speak Now, or Forever Hold Your Peace 33
8 Victim, No Shooter? 37
9 Caught on Video 43
10 The Bait and Switch 49
11 It's Duck Season 57
12 Seven Years to the Day 61
13 The Decoy in the Road 67
14 Just Foolin' Around 109
15 A Boar-ing Fourth of July 111
16 One Step Back, Two Steps Forward 117
17 Left Behind 121
18 Hunting "Accident" or Murder? 135
19 Death beside the Tracks 141
20 "He Moved from Where He Was Supposed to Be!" 147
21 Pheasant Country 151
22 Something Horrible in the Woods 159
23 Uncle Grouse 169
24 The Drive for Child Support 175
25 The Last Time I Got Shot 185
26 They Were Unable to Save Him 215
27 A Death in the River Swamp 223
28 The Lie between Hunters 253
29 I Am Still Struggling More Than Twenty Years Later 263
30 Blood on the Leaves 267
Conclusion 275
Appendix A What Does It Take to Be a Professional Hunting Incident Investigator, and Why Would You Want One? 278
Appendix B Should We Prosecute, or Have They Suffered Enough? 283
Appendix C The History of Hunter Education 287
Appendix D Glossary 291
Acknowledgments 301
Bibliography 303
Resources 307
About Hunting and Shooting Related Consultants, LLC 309