Hunting is fun but if you hunt long and hard enough, you’ll experience plenty of physical ailments. Here’s four injuries and how I dealt with each one.
by Jace Bauserman
When I started my career in the outdoor industry twenty years ago, I had no idea what to expect. I planned to work extra hard, keep my head down, and never trade positivity for negativity.
Thousands of articles, videos, and the like later, my approach hasn’t changed. I grind it out daily and do my best to deliver factual, interesting, and helpful content.
Never in my wildest dreams, at 45 years of age, did I expect to be have chased different game species in 24 states and five countries. This lifestyle is a blessing, and I thank God daily for the fantastic opportunities I’ve had.
Those opportunities led me to write this article. As amazing as hunting is, it isn’t without its risks. Accidents happen whether you’re in a far-flung locale or in the back 40.
I recommend taking a first-aid course and keeping your credentials up to date. Knowing basic first aid can and will save your bacon in the hunting woods. It has saved me multiple times, and I never miss the chance to attend a hands-on course or further my knowledge of in-the-field first aid.
To come are my top four “oh crap” hunting moments, what I did, and how those moments ended.
Oklahoma Whitetail
Aside from falling from a treestand or getting a nip of frostbite, one wouldn’t think a whitetail venture would hold the number one “oh crap” spot. Not only does it hold number one for me, it also holds the number two spot.
My good friend Tony Peterson and I hunted public dirt in the Sooner State’s western half. We were having a hell of a time. Tony had double-lunged a pair of does and missed a buck. I’d sent carbon through a feral hog and a doe. Things were going beautifully. With meat in the freezer and several days left to hunt, Peterson and I turned our attention to bucks.
My morning was uneventful, at least until I got the phone call.
“Dude, something bad happened.” Tony’s voice was weak, and I could hear the pain in it. His sentences were short, and his words direct. Between each sentence was a long pause, followed by a deep breath and a groan.
I wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but my heart leaped when I came around a corner in my Chevy and saw Tony hunched up and ambling down the blacktop.
When he turned his head to look at me, my mouth dropped. I couldn’t see his face; it was covered in sticky red blood.
What Happened?
Tony was doing something we’d both done hundreds of times: climbed a four-stand barbwire fence to access public hunting land on the other side. He was climbing close to where the strands were wired to the t-post. When he hit the top wire, the wire snapped.
The wire tore his hands and face to shreds. The t-post put a nasty gash in his palm, and for a few moments, Tony was convinced the metal bar had castrated him. It didn’t, thank God, but it was close.
He was in an enormous amount of pain. Tony is tough as nails, but this was bad.
What Did We Do?
The October air was cold. I was worried about possible shock, so I draped a warm blanket around him while I cleaned and dressed each wound.
I used BleedStop, gauze, large bandages, and some arrow glue to close some wounds. I did my best to clean each wound thoroughly to prevent infection and got Tylenol and Ibuprofen onboard right away.
Another hunting buddy who was with us drove Tony to the hospital, which, due to our location, meant a full day’s drive. The doctor was impressed with how clean the wounds were. He patched Tony up further, and he made a full recovery.
South Dakota Whitetail
It was a wonderful day. I could feel the approaching front and was minutes away from prepping a final stand site. All I needed to do was use my Hooyman handsaw to remove a few limbs that were poking me in the back.
Unfortunately, the last of those few limbs caused a serious problem. I was laughing, talking with a buddy on the ground, and not paying attention. The next thing I knew, all I felt was pain and the unmistakable warmness of blood—lots of blood—on my hand.
I was going too fast, and the Hooyman slipped out of the wood groove it was in, and I sent the blade back and forth across my left index finger.
What Happened?
The saw cut forward, backward, and forward again before I realized what had happened. Blood poured from my finger. I could hear the dripping blood impacting the desiccated leaves below.
My buddy looked sick. I immediately wrapped a leather glove around the finger and climbed down. I remember almost passing out twice.
When we reached the lodge, I cleaned the wound under hot water and added soap. There was dirt and sawdust in the wound, and the metal blade of the Hooyman saw was less than clean. My finger was numb, which told me there was nerve damage, and the cuts were to the bone.
What Did We Do?
I made a poor decision. The options were an Indian reservation hospital 30 minutes away or a hospital in Rapid City four hours away. I opted for the Indian reservation hospital.
The receptionist and nurses were incredible. They begged the doctor, who was not Native American, to stitch the finger. Sadly, he glued it after barely cleaning it.
A week later, I went to an urgent care center in Nebraska. The finger was severely infected, I had a fever, and the doctor put me on a series of antibiotics, most of which looked like they should be used to treat horses. I’ve never had to swallow bigger pills.
The result was a wound that healed, but I can’t bend the finger beyond 90 degrees; it gets cold quickly, and most days, it’s numb.
Colorado Pronghorn
It had been two weeks since my 100-mile mountain ultra-marathon. My body was tired and weak, but August meant stick-and-string pronghorn in my home state.
I ran two miles to the gym two days before heading to hunt with my good buddy Danny Farris. I was still working to get my muscles to fully recover. The plan was to run two miles, do a light upper-body workout, and finish with some box jumps.
Everything was going according to plan until my fifth box jump. After springing onto the platform, severe pain stabbed into my lower back. It was excruciating. Instantly, I hit my knees, rolled off the box, and lay moaning on the floor. I spent the next 20 minutes trying to stretch and get to my feet. Surprisingly, after a few stretching exercises, the pain let up and gradually got better.
Though my lower back was still stiff, it was manageable for the first day of our spot-and-stalk pronghorn hunt. On day two, I jumped off a bank into the bottom of a dry coulee and … whammy!
The pain was back, but worse than it was at the gym. I couldn’t move, and suddenly, I noticed a tingling, numbing sensation in my quad and calf.
What Happened?
When you’re an endurance athlete, you become very in tune with your body. You know when something is wrong and can sense if something is terribly wrong. Something was terribly wrong.
When I hit flat-footed into the dirt, I heard a pop. Intense pain, more than the pain during the box jumps, dropped me to the ground like I’d been shot.
What Did We Do?
There wasn’t much to do. There was zero hemorrhaging, and nothing was sticking out of anywhere. All I could do was hobble the two miles back to the truck.
The second I hit the truck, I called my family doctor and left a message with her nurse. Less than an hour later, the doctor called me back and somehow got me a next-day appointment with a back specialist. That was a miracle. I’m so glad. I didn’t wait. If you know something is wrong, seek medical attention.
Long story short, almost a year later, after multiple attempts, physical therapy, and cortisone injections, I had a microdiscetomy at L4, L5, and S1.
I heard so many terrible things about back surgery that I was terrified to get cut on. It ended up being the best thing that I ever did.
Spain Iberian Mouflon Ram
Spain’s Sierra Nevada Mountain Range is no joke. The steep terrain offers an elegant roughness that calls to those who embrace adventure hunting.
With a Southeastern ibex under my belt, Browning’s Rafe Nielsen and I turned our attention to Iberian mouflon. Early on the hunt’s second day, Rafe was giving me the yardage call compliments of his Leupold BX-4 Range HD Gen 2 TBR/W 12x50s.
Dialing my Leupold VX-6HD Gen 2 scope to 225 yards, I sent a Browning Long Range Pro Hunter 175-Grain Sierra Tipped GameKing from my X-Bolt 2 Speed LR chambered in 6.8 Western.
Click Here For A Full VX-6HD GEN 2 Scope Review
The hit was perfect, and the ram didn’t so much as wiggle. It was all fun right up to the moment I stepped between two large rocks with my right foot. The second my foot hit, I lost my balance. The weight of the ram stored in the meat shelf of my ALPS Hybrid X caused my torso to rotate. When it did, my foot and ankle stayed put, which caused a loud popping sound when my butt hit the ground.
What Happened?
I was going too fast. I’m 45 years old, but I was negotiating the challenging side hill like I was 20. I lost my balance, but my foot stayed put. When my torso shifted and I fell to the ground, it made my ankle pop loudly.
Rafe was sure it was broken, and I agreed. Still, we had three miles to the truck.
What Did We Do?
Pain is scary, and the thought of a broken ankle three miles from the truck in rugged terrain ushers in some anxiety. The first thing to do was to remain seated, drink some water, and joke about it.
Why?
Joking around helps calm the mind. It takes the mind off what’s ahead, which relieves anxiety. As time passes and anxiety wanes, you give pain a chance to reside.
I always carry plenty of water and Ibproufen in my first-aid kit. I slurped down some water and 800 mg of IB. I didn’t try to remove my boot. The boot acted as a swelling reducer, and I didn’t want to remove it. Instead, I tightened down the laces and used a pair of trekking poles to navigate the three miles slowly.
Final Thoughts
The Spain fiasco was very recent. Due to flights and flight delays, I wasn’t able to remove my boot for a full 48 hours, so I couldn’t ice or elevate it.
When I returned home, an x-ray showed no brake, but an MRI revealed torn ligaments and tendons. I’m still in a brace.
Hunting is fun. However, if you hunt long and hard enough, you will experience some problems. It’s knowing how to deal with those problems that will get you through.
