I was out on a full moon night several winters back. I stopped at an old gravel pit I know about that had started to grow up with willows. I always saw lots of hare tracks, and predators following along.
I set up with my 12g loaded with 4buck and my .22-250. Good chance for close shots and long. Wind was right, moon was right, and I started to blow the call. I was really enjoying the night. I thought it was just me and my gear out under the moon. It was late enough that I never heard traffic out on the highway.
I had called for about 20 minutes when I heard a vehicle. It sounded like it was crunching through the snow at the back of the pit area. I stopped calling and waited. A moment later a spotted a car creeping along a trail that I rarely ever drove my 4x4 on. The car headed to the road and disappeared.
I figured my set was busted by the noise, so I sat for a while thinking about that car. Why was it out there well after midnight during a weekday? Boy and girl stuff? Getting rid of the dead dog? Tossing out the garbage in a spot closer than the borough dumpsters? I had to look.
I took the truck up to the end of the road and saw tracks heading over a dirt berm. With the headlights on, and my headlamp, I got out of the truck to look. I found drag marks. My hair (ok, I'm bald, but work with me here) stood on end. Back to the truck I went to grab the 12g and loaded it to the hilt with 4buck. I knew the car was gone, but would they come back?
I followed the drag marks over the berm, through the trees, and up to some big black bags. With more than a little apprehension, I opened the bags to find not a body, but a bunch of mason jars and miscellaneous stuff. Ok, no dead people or dogs. That's a good thing. I got to looking close at the jars. Some held stuff that was black, some blue, some kind of a reddish color. There was some salt, and some other miscellaneous items.
Now I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but my mind started screaming "METH"!!!!!! Time to go sports fans. I was on high alert as I left the area, gun still loaded by my side in the truck. Straight home I went to make a phone call to my buddy, who happened to be a local FBI agent. I described my find and he confirmed the likelihood that it was indeed meth, stashed by some cook.
The next day I had planned to hunt also. Instead, I got to spend time with the DEA agent, who happened to be a pretty good fellow. We went back out and took a look and secured the site.
So no predators for me that night, but did help to clean up a skunk, or at least its mess. I've always wondered what those idiots thought about as they were dragging their stuff into the woods and heard a rabbit screaming?