Hunted a power line with a bow during the rut... yep, he crossed about 120 yds following a doe... called a gobbler in one morning at about 10 yds. and had forgot to chamber a shell...jumped off of a bridge in my teen years on a dare... STUPID !!!

Took my daughter to school on my personal truck. Came back home and got my work truck and headed to the office. Was talking to a friend on my cell phone and got 3 miles down the road and realized I had left my phone in my personal truck.

Turned around, went back home and as I approached my truck, I saw my reflection in the passengers window - there I stood talking on the phone I went back to get. Don't know if that's stupid or just crazy as hell. Had a good laugh at myself.

Thinking I could out run the pack of yellow jackets on my tractor (I had just run over the nest with my disk).

FYI You cannot out run yellow jackets on a tractor.

FIFY

I shot an inflated basketball with my Red Ryder BB gun from about 10 feet when I was about 8 years old. BB hit its mark and ricochet back and hit me right between the eyes. Dumb!

After learning SO MUCH from that experience, about a year later....

I was target shooting my Bear fiberglass recurve bow, fortunately not with sharp point tips. I began to wonder just how high vertically an arrow would go. So I lean back, shoot straight up in the air, and let it fly. It was impressive to a 9 year old...arrow traveled so high, at noon in the summer, that I lost sight of it. It dawned in that instant, that I had learned something in school about Newton and things going up will also come down.....I better get away or I'll get hit with that arrow! So I run straight ahead about 30-40 feet...not sure how far...just a burst run. I cover my head with my hands and turn around to look at where I shot from waiting for the arrow to fall. WHACK...next thing I know I'm laying on the ground with blood flowing down my face. I had shot myself, arrow grazed my head and cut me open...had three stitches. Dumb!

As a teenager I went coon hunting with a family friend and neighbor all the time. He owned a saw mill and had red bone and blue tick hounds. We treed a big boar coon one summer night in the Big Black River Swamp of Carrol County, MS. He has some young dogs he wanted to get their first taste of coon blood and get a kill. My job was to hold back the older and seasoned two red bone hounds. So I leashed them up, wrapping the leather leads around my wrists, moved back about 10 yards and sat down at the base of this enormous water oak--digging my heels in. Ronnie (a college kid home for the summer) climbed the tree, shook some vines and butt shot the coon with some rat shot. Out the coon jumped right into the pack of young dogs and the fight was on. When that coon hit the ground, those red bones took off like race boat...pulling me up to a standing position...launching me in the air and onto my stomach and drug me kicking and screaming into the fight. In 2 seconds I went from watching the coon jump to up in and amongst them. I got scratched, bit, trampled, clawed by dogs and or coon for what seemed like an hour but was only about 30 seconds. Still had leashes wrapped on my wrists. A True Jerry Clower Moment...I needed some relief! Rabies shots back in the 80s were not fun. Dumb!

Since I was such a fast learner, about three weeks later we were walking back to the truck around 2am after chasing coons all night. I had Katie, the sweet blue tick, who was the best dog of the bunch...she never lost the trail--dang good hound! I had her leash wrapped around my wrist....again. The truck was in sight at the edge of the corn field. All we had to do was cross over this creek on a huge oak tree that had fallen across the creek. Had done this countless times, as this was a place we hunted often. This night had no signs of being any different....hunter and dog easily walk the log. I was first to cross, with three others behind me. Well half way across, there was a sudden splash and scamper in the very shallow water creek directly below me. I was about 10 feet up from the bottom of the creek bed. Yep... Katie launched from the log into the black unknown. It was like a cartoon where Wiley Coyote looks at the camera right before falling...slow suspended motion. Since I was so smartly attached at the wrist to Katie, on a log, over a creek, that barely had any water in it....where the dog went I by default followed. Off into the creek I went....THUD. Glad it was river bottom land and not a rocky stream. I sprained my ankle and wrist in that landing. The laughter behind me....well I still can hear it. Funny now, but dumb back then.

I've got more that involve a barb wire fence and a Brahma bull named Freddy, why one shouldn't drive across a pond when the water is low, and how well water conducts electricity from and electric fence. But I'll spare you from my stupidity.

I think I'm smarter now. Maybe.

Hahaha! Those are some good ones stray cat. I did the shoot my bow straight up thing as a kid. My arrow came down on the roof of our house and Daddy came out soon after......that was the last time I tried that.

Same here except ours stuck in the roof of the neighbors camper. Ass whippings ensued....

I also remember stealing a can of Copenhagen Snuff from my uncle when I was about 10-11 yrs old. I hid it strategically and told my parents I was going to ride the four wheeler. I get out of site and put probably half the can in my front lip as I had seen my uncle do and I start driving. I thought I was something else for about 100 yds.....then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was spitting, slobbering, and throwing up all the way back home and went straight to bed. Told my parentsiI had a stomach bug.

My 9th grade year, a buddy and I were riding 3 and 4-wheelers in a dirt pit down from our neighborhood one Sunday afternoon. I saw a dirt mound that looked perfect for jumping on my Yamaha 200 3-wheeler. I got a good ways back, hit the throttle lever with my thumb, and took off for the jump, expecting to jump 15-20 feet, hit the landing, and nothing go wrong.

I was mistaken...I hit the mound, in 5th gear, throttle lever bottomed out, and it was at the exact moment I became airborne, that I realized that the 3' tall mound of dirt I was jumping, dropped about 30-35' on the other side. I landed, front tire first, my left hand came off of the handlebars and somehow got wedged between the bars on the front rack. As soon as the rear wheels hit, my left arm snapped about midways of my forearm. Meanwhile, when I "landed" the jump, my right thumb somehow got wedged between the handgrip and the throttle lever, causing the 3-wheeler to stay at full throttle. I traveled probably 200 yards before I was able to get control of the 3-wheeler. I don't know which hurt the most on the way home...my left forearm being broken and in a V-shape or my right thumbnail being ripped off when I finally yanked my thumb out from being wedged between the throttle and the handgrip.

I also had to ride a pine tree down when my stand fell out from under me.

It was a couple of weeks out of hunting season and we were pulling our stands out. My buddy had gone to get his stand and was going to meet me back at truck. I got my stand down and realized that I had left my safety strap around the tree about 30' up (this was in the days before wearing a safety belt was normal). I decided I would just use the foot climber and shimmy up the tree and drop the strap back down and shimmy back down the tree. I got up, dropped the strap back down, and had just started back down when the foot climber dropped out from under me. Here I am, 30' up a tree, and the spaghetti that I ate for lunch decided it was ready to work it's way back out in the form of a gut bomb. Instead of shimmying back down, I loosened the bear hug I had on the tree trunk and slid the 30' down the pine tree. Upon hitting the ground, it was time to drop the gut bomb. My buddy about lost it when I showed back up at the truck, looking like I had been attacked by a bear, arms, face, and chest all scratched up, and missing the shirt that I had been wearing that had become emergency toilet paper.

Driving over Lurleen Wallace bridge in my jeep with the top and doors off, me being completely naked and drunk.

I may or may not have left a revolver in the pocket of a backpack this weekend. It may or may not have gotten rained on. I may or may not had to take the sidle plate off and clean it inside and out.

Thank goodness it was stainless. (Assuming i left it in there)

Got married