Most memorable shot on big game?

[Blkram]

Having started the other thread on the most memorable hunt, begged the topic of your most memorable shot on big game.

Would it be on the same memorable hunt? Or another?

I'll always remember shots on most of the game that I have harvested, but the shot that stands out the most is:

I would have to say it was the 55 yard shot I made with my compound bow on my first archery antelope. Pinwheeled my intended point of aim (double lung shot, just above the heart), he twitched and trotted 20 yards before expiring. The first hunt where my wife was with me (behind me telling me what the yardage was to the antelope).

With rifle, it is a tie between my 10 1/2" mountain goat at 15 yards and a 475 yard shot on my 7x7 elk on my friend's farm.

All good memories...good hunts...with good friends.

 

[truck driver]

One I will always remember was taken with my Browning BPS 12ga with slug choke. I had been doing some last minute finishing touches on my tree stand the afternoon of the opening day of deer season and while making my way out of farmers field I spotted a Doe standing in a thicket about 150yds from the road threw the field so I stopped and watched for a while. My son had passed several weeks just before the season and I wasn't really into hunting and was the reason for the last minute touch ups on the stand. My sons stand I had built for him and which he killed his first deer out of was behind me about 50yds or so and it was funny how this was playing out as I had a young man with me in my truck who had helped me finish up the stand. As we watched the doe another came out and walked around feeding and then another and another came out of the thicket. I had turned off the truck and pulled the key out of the ignition so as not to disturb them and eased out of the truck to retrieve my shot gun which was behind the seat and load it. The young man was going crazy as we had 6 doe in front of us and it was legal to shoot doe but they were acting strange like they were expecting something to happen and I told him to settle down so as not to spoke them when the biggest doe of the group stepped out and looked back behind her. He was saying shoot shoot and I said no I wanted the one that was still in the thicket. I eased clear of the truck and and readied myself for the up coming shot. Out stepped a 9 point White tail Buck with a wide spread. I had sighted the shot gun with open sights to shoot 3" high at 100yds and it would shoot clover leafs with good sabots so I knew I could make a clean kill at that range and aimed at the top of the shoulder and eased off a shot. In slow motion he just curled up and died right there! The doe just stood and looked at him like now is not the time to lay down and we need to get out of here. The big doe nudged him with her head and when he didn't respond she raised her tail and troted off with the rest following here. He made Boon&Crockett while he was still green but I think the taxidermist messed up the mount since the horns are not equal as I remembered them before I took it to him and he used too small of a form for the mount. but once it was done there was no redoing it. This shot and deer will always be special to me because of where it was taken and when after my sons death. If I never remember any others this one will always be remembered.

 

[Elkman]

I have a couple of memorable shots, most recently a 540 yard shot on a spike bull elk in NE Oregon, he was my longest measured shot. My first deer was at 50 yards running flat out in a Oregon, lodgepole pine flat. I was trying to catch up with him in the scope, saw him suspended in air, fired and picked him up a 100 yards later. He was not my largest buck ever, but very nice, 23' wide, with 6 points on one side and 5 on the other.

 

[DrMike]

It is better to be lucky than good, when witnesses are about. Or at least, that is the way it seems. I had agreed to take a couple of friends hunting with me. I wanted a fat black bear, and two brothers from Newfoundland asked if they could accompany me to witness the hunt. Being a good natured, genial fellow, I readily agreed. We drove out about sixty-five or seventy kilometers to a farm that had a number of fields planted in oats. Bears were a serious problem for this farm, and I had asked and received permission to harass the bruins that were causing such devastation of the crops.

I had already made a couple of trips that fall. On one, an erstwhile friend that accompanied me because he had never shot a bear. He was very eager to shoot a bear, but he was somewhat leery of getting too close. The farmer accompanied us to the field. I was eager to find just the right spot for the younger man accompanying me to set up. I was perhaps fifteen or so yards in front of him and the farmer, walking along the west edge of the field when I heard a scream. It sounded suspiciously like that which emanates from Wounded Bunny when he cuts himself whilst skinning bison. You may have heard that strangled cry that is comparable to the shriek of a nine-year-old girl when encountering a spider.

Startled, I turned and asked laconically (since he was still standing), "Problem?" "A bear just ran at me," he fairly shouted. Imagine saying that rapidly, without breathing and you will come close to understanding what I actually heard. I did manage to get him settled down somewhat (giving thanks that he hadn't loaded his rifle just yet). The farmer acknowledged that a sow and her cub had rushed off the field of standing oats, darting between me and said (and now thoroughly frightened) young hunter. The farmer allowed that he needed to get back to work on some project or another and suggested that we continue our hunt without him.

We managed to make our way around the field to an excellent spot on the north edge. I pointed out to my hunting buddy where the bears were coming onto the field, suggesting that he remain quiet, waiting until a bruin move into or off of the field. The oats were high enough that it was nearly impossible to see the bears, but as they entered or exited the field one could see them and would have some time to shoot. I pointed out that I was going to go on around the field and I would be about fifty yards farther along.

I don't suppose that more than fifteen minutes had passed when I heard that strangled scream I had heard earlier. However, there was no shot--just screams which didn't appear to be stopping. Hmmmm! Either a nine-year-old girl had encountered a spider or he had seen a bear. I'm a quick study, if nothing else. Knowing that hunting would be difficult (if not impossible) with all that screaming going on, I realised that I would have to go see what was going on.

When I got there, the mighty hunter was trembling and deathly pale. "Problem?" I inquired solicitously. "A bear," he blubbered. "Yes, we'll never get one if you keep on screaming," I offered helpfully.

"No," he fairly shouted. "A bear almost attacked me!" Well, that had my interest. "What happened," I inquired.

"I had to relieve myself," he began. "I leaned my rifle against a tree and turned to the business at hand." "Which at the moment wasn't shooting a bear," I offered for clarification. "Listen!" he nearly shouted. "As I was relieving myself, I heard something behind me. Turning to see what was making the noise, a bear was standing there looking at me! It frightened me," he stated. "Causing you to scream," I helpfully completed his thought. "Seriously, Mike, it was a bear looking at me. It ran when I made a noise." "Your scream," I graciously offered.

"Well, here's the thing," I explained. "It was probably a young sow, and she just wanted to see if your intentions were honourable." I've never quite understood why my friend didn't enjoy hunting bears for some time after that.

However, that was not the memorable hunt I was planning to relate. So, back to the serious account that leads me to state that often it is better to be lucky than good. The Newfie brothers were with me. My plan was to enter the oats and establish myself at a point allowing me to see clearly several spots from which bears were entering the field. On the point I had chosen, the edge of the field almost abutted the woods. I would need to shoot quickly in order to drop any bruin entering the oats.

Now, you need to understand that these brothers were BIG. How big? They were gandy dancers working on a northern railway. Swinging those sledge hammers all day and laying track had produce some big fellows. Did I mention that they were BIG? Now, we usually imagine that big fellows are fearless fellows; and I knew that these two brothers had faced some serious altercations without hesitation. Thus, you will understand my confusion when one said in a most excited voice, "Pastor Mike! Pastor Mike! Do you hear that?" "Yes, now be quiet. It's a bear." The bruin was near the edge of the field, perhaps only a matter of a few yards away. Teeth were popping and the bruin was huffing. I would have a tough time shooting this bear because the two men were holding onto my shoulders from either side and shaking me rather violently.

"Shhhh," I tried to shush them. "The bear will come out shortly if you will just be quiet," I whispered. "Don't be worried," I have a rifle. "Yes," one of the brothers stated, "but they have big claws and sharp teeth." "Not to worry," I consoled them, "I'm a great shot." I was carrying a Model 94 chambered in 356 Winchester. This is one of my favourite rifles. Actually, about any rifle is a favourite; but that day, my favourite was that Model 94. As the bear continued its agitated vocalizations, I was focused on the very brief moment I would have to make my shot. Suddenly, one of the fellows gave that war cry (the one that sounds like a nine-year-old girl frightened by a spider). Knowing there were few spiders in the field, my concentration was broken just as one of the brothers squealed, "A bear!" "Where?" I asked somewhat casually. "There," he offered helpfully, pointing to the northeast. A rather large bear was hieing off the field across a rather large exit to the woods beyond. The distance between the field and the woods at that particular point was probably forty yards or so. The bear was later determined to have been about 230 yards from where we were standing. As I swung, catching the bear in the scope and allowing for a slight lead, I squeezed the trigger. At the shot, the bear tumbled and lay still. The shot broke the shoulder and destroyed the heart, making a quick end of said bruin.

Impressed by my display of riflery, both men exclaimed in awe, "Wow! You really are a good shot! We really were safe from the bears." As I say, sometimes it is better to be lucky than to be good--especially when witnesses are present.

 

[pre6422hornet]

Most memorable shot on big game is probably my first. Whitetail doe running full bore at 20 yards. Pulled up the 12 gauge 870 and nailed her clean at the apex of the jump. She was HUUUGE! Or so I thought... it actually was a fawn, maybe 40 pounds dripping wet. I dressed her myself using a copy of my hunter safety manual's section on field dressing, drug her down the hill, cut her up, and proceeded to grill the driest, chewiest steaks of all time. But man I did it myself. This was before my palate appreciated a good medium rare steak

 

[PJGunner]

As the good doctor said, "It's good to be lucky and have witnesses" :wink: We were cruising in the ruck when we spotted a nice fat juicy cow elk that layered out at 350 yards. I got out and use the window frame of the truck to try a shot as it was way too open to even try any kind of a sneak. At the shot, she crumpled at the rear end and slumped there rest of the way down DRT. When we got up to her we found my shot had broken her neck at the base of the skull. :shock: Lots of wide open eyes and mouths at that (?) spectacular shot. As honesty prevailed I admitted I was aiming for a lung shot and that's where the crosshairs were when the shot went off. I was suspecting a possible scope failure and after a few days after returning home, a trip to the range proved exactly that. Shots were landing all over the target and to say it was a 12" groups would have been overly kind. Sent it back to Leopold and about two weeks later it was back good as new. Gotta love their warranty policy. You I was lucky with witnesses. :lol:
Paul B.

 

[tecumseh]

I have two, the first deer I took with a bow when I was 16 and the cow elk I took with my 300 WSM in Montana in 2009.

 

[sask boy]

I guess the shot that stands out to me is my first Elk taken with the my 35 Whelen. I had to sneak a herd of 5 cows with calves. They were well over a 1,000 yards so I knew that I needed to get alot closer so I used the forest to get within 700 yards and then started to sneak along a grassy slough bottom where the grass was about 3' high so I started to duck walk to stay lower than the grass and about 1/2way there I got a cramp in my left hamstring so I put my rifle & bogpod down and started to roll on my back with my hand over my mouth because I was moaning in pain. My hunting partner who stayed back in the blind was watching in his Binoculars and couldn't quite figure out what I was doing :shock:. I then started to duck walk again and got to the point of the grass slough and set up my bogpod and ranged the still unexpected cow Elk my Lecia told me the closest Elk was 507 yards so I set up and fired and knew that I hit her but not sure where so I again fired and this time she start to move back toward the forest. We figured where the elk went in and then marked it the next morning we went in and found her. We were also lucky enough to take her two year old calf as well.

Blessings,
Dan

 

[BP736]

My most memorable shot was at a coyote (I know... not a big game animal, but still memorable). I was helping a friend and his kids elk hunting. We were driving down the road when a coyote ran along side the truck and stopped. The only gun that I had with me was a S&W 44 magnum with a 4" barrel. I knew the coyote was way out there but I couldn't stand to just look at him. I made my best guess at elevation, shot one time and it took off running. Ran about 25 yards and fell over dead. I was shocked. I ranged it at 121 yards. Tons of luck, could probably never do it again... but I'll never forget it.
BP

 

[rjm158]

"My most memorable shot was at a coyote (I know... not a big game animal, but still memorable)."

I was on an impromptu deer drive with some friends at the farm of one of the friends' parents. I had already killed one coyote who hadn't seen/heard me since I was posted and was focused on the drivers. I was using my Tikka T-3 308 with 125 gr BT's. It absolutely hammered the 'yote from about 40 yards and he never knew what hit him.

Later in the day, at a different spot on the same farm, I was posted again and heard something running towards me in the dry leaves. I got set, expecting a deer to burst out of the timber, but it turned out to be another coyote. He stopped, surprised to see me, then took off running flat out through the soybean field I was in. It had already been harvested so there was some low stubble still upright. He was running full out with his tail straight out behind him. I swung the rifle up and my first shot was just behind him. I worked the bolt, and using a little more lead, fired a second time. It tore off his left hind leg which slowed him down slightly, but he regained his balance and kept going. I gave him a little more lead and this shot went through his left shoulder, rolling him end over end and he was dead when I got to him.

This took place at about 50-60 yards. I had never tried to shoot anything on a dead run before and hadn't practiced the rapid bolt operation, either, so I was as shocked as the coyote (OK, maybe not quite but you get the idea). It happened faster than it can be told. I wasn't aware of it until after I unshouldered the rifle, but one of my friends had come out of the timber (he was a driver) just as all this unfolded. When I looked over at him he said, "If I hadn't seen that, I never would have believed it."

Bear in mind, I don't mention this with the intent to say how great a shot I am or anything like that, just that on that day things came together for me and, as Dr Mike has said, in front of a witness. I'm also convinced the ultra-smooth bolt on the Tikka played a big part.

As an aside, 3 years ago I had the opportunity to try my luck on running coyotes again, this time with my 35 Whelen. Suffice to say, the on-target effect was quite, um, decisive.

Ron

 

[DrMike]

Ron, your account of the shot on coyotes stimulated a memory from more years past than I care to remember. I've always been opportunistic when it comes to coyotes. Aren't we all? In any case, as I and a hunting partner cruised toward the area we would be hunting black bears, I noted a coyote standing in a field. I mentioned this and Courtney stopped the truck. I was carrying my 7 Rem Mag loaded with 175 grain Trophy Bonded Bear Claw bullets. That was in the days before we had range finders, and I guessed her to be about 200 yards plus away. Later, it was 225 paces to where she had stood, so I didn't do badly that time in range estimation. (People in this region often estimate in "Newfie Meters." So, we often hear, "I shot that elk at 600 yards." Measured distance will be more like 125 yards, so locals know that the shooter shot at 600 "Newfie Meters." But I digress.) I took careful aim at the coyote, which was standing facing me with her head up. I pulled the trigger and coming out of battery I was amazed to see ... NOTHING!. It was as if that critter had evaporated. Well, I couldn't permit that to occur without at least a cursory investigation. So, Courtney and I began to walk toward where we thought we had seen the coyote. The grass was rather tall, so I did allow as I walked that perhaps the coyote had turned on the afterburners and rushed at low altitude away from where she had stood. However, as we neared where she had been standing, I could see a slightly depressed area in the grass. Sure enough, there she lay on her belly, head between her paws, as though waiting to lunge at whatever or whoever had the audacity to take a poke at her. However, since she didn't track me with her eyes, I tested for a blink reflex only to be greeted by ... NOTHING! This was one dead critter. The funny thing was that there was no bullet hole! Now, that was a mystery. We did skin her out and what we found was that the bullet had entered just above the sternum, passed along the ventral portion of the spine and exited through the anus. Talk about a unique shot. The insides were mush. Not a bone was broken. There was an entrance of .284 inches (or slightly less with dermal elasticity) and no exit wound as the bullet literally passed out the anus. I doubt I'll ever make such a shot again. But I did it once, and in front of a witness.

 

[Darkhorse]

What comes to mind when I think of memorable shots is this one. I had set up a 16' tripod stand on a hilltop in a clearcut that had not been replanted. It was a jungle. I was hunting across a, lets call it a valley, and I'd set up to watch the opposite hillside and hilltop. It was 300 yards at the least across to that other hilltop. That hill top opened up some as it had not been cut and was covered in oakbrush and pines.
I had attached 1X6's on all 4 sides of the tripod and had a shooting bag. I was prepared for long shots. I was shooting my Browning A-bolt stainless W/BOSS in .300 Win. Mag. loaded with 165 grain Hornady soft points with a max. charge of IMR 4350. Topped with a Leupold 3.5 X 10 scope.
About 9 in the morning I saw a group of does run across that hillside and hilltop and back in the trees I saw a bigger deer with a flash of antlers. No chance for a shot at all.
Around 10:30 the does came filtering back across the hill, then I saw a larger deer walking fast. I got on the shooting bag and put the crosshairs on the predetermined open spot. While on the stock I was watching the hilltop when suddenly I saw the buck with a headfull of antlers. I tracked him with the scope then shot when it looked right. The buck ran but I thought I'd seen him react to the shot. I marked that spot with a dead, white pine about 6" diameter leaning against another tree.
I got down and tried to walk to the spot but it was so thick at the bottom I could hardly get through and I ended up off track. I fought that brush and briars for about an hour, checking every leaning tree I could see, no luck. Finally I reached the hilltop (things didn't look the same over here as they did from the stand) when I noticed fresh white tree chunks on the ground.
I walked over there and saw a leaning pine tree...With a hole right through the center! Then a grown pine with a groove about 4 inches into the tree and about a yard from there I found a spot of blood. I couldn't believe I'd made a killing shot and the blood trail was sporadic at best for about 20 yards. Then it got much better. And 60 yards from where he'd been standing I found the buck with a perfect round hole right behind the shoulder.
The bullet had passed through a 6" dead pine then gouged a slot 4 inches deep through a live pine, then what was left of the bullet had centered the heart.
I'm sure nobody believes that and nobody believed it then either. It was after 12 noon and camp was deserted so I loaded that buck on my Polaris by my self.
Here is a photo of that buck.

 

[DrMike]

Sweet! Great account of a memorable shot.

 

[sask boy]

Man we sure have some great accounts of shots that have been made :wink:, I also like the photographs as well.
Keep them coming people !

Blessings,
Dan

 

[Whitesheep]

Very enjoyable tread. I am looking forward to more.

My most memorable shot was not taken during my most memorable hunt. The shot I remember most fondly was taken at a Bull Elk on public land during a self guided hunt. After several early days we were up well before dawn again and while waiting at the truck for a little light noticed the water bottles we were drinking were freezing before we could finish them. As it turned out it was 14 deg F on that brisk Arizona morning.

After walking/stalking for several hours our group of three had split up. It was now well over 60 deg F and I was carrying most of the clothes I had been wearing earlier. After crossing a 4x4 trail I was sitting down to glass and be discouraged when I heard the tell tale sound of running hooves on rock. Rounding the Juniper I was sitting by I saw two Bulls trotting quickly across a clearing. Dropping to my knee I aimed at the front shoulder of the following bull and sent him a 265 grain Hornady FTX from my Marlin XLR in .444.

While this was latter determined to be a lethal lung shot at 250 yards, at the time, while I knew I had hit him, I was not sure how well. Following my hunting adage of "keep shooting until they are down," I sent another round after the bull. At this point he slowed more, but was heading into the Juniper Maze where you can lose a truck, let alone a bull elk. (Note: Bull elk hides can absorb a lot of blood as this one did on later observation. We may have never found him if I had lost sight of him.) At this point my otherwise trusty Marlin locked open and would not chamber a round. I whacked the lever with my hand a couple of times and was looking for a rock to hit it with when I gave it a chop that should have broken my hand but didn't due to the benefits of adrenaline. This resulted in a newly chambered round followed by the anchoring shot.

The initial shot was successfully taken at running game at 250 yards with a 6x scope on a lever action rifle. Needless to say said rifle later found its way quickly to a smith who disassembled it completely, found nothing, gave it a trigger job and put it back together. It has performed flawlessly since and I will take it elk hunting again.

While not a DRT shot, which I have done and always aim to do, this shot is memorable to me because of the conditions, range and my ability to overcome equipment failure in the heat of the moment.

 

[Anonymous]

Man, a lot of memorable shots.

The one that stands out is a last light shot on a bull caribou. We had worked our butts off hiking back into this basin to chase a herd and dark was closing in. I had this bull across a small ravine at a lasered 255yds. and couldn't approach any closer.

I sprawled out prone on the top of a little pressure ridge and used my binocular case as a front rest, put the crosshairs right on the pocket and depressed the trigger. The bull collapsed in his tracks, instantly. I recall it because in the failing light, a big cloud of steam and hair from the exit wound seemed to hang in the air for quite a while. I was pretty happy to have made a perfect heart/lung shot and the bull never so much as twitched. By the time we got to the bull after navigating that ravine, it was too dark to take pictures but I'll never forget that steam and hair just hanging in a cloud for a couple of seconds in the last ray of sun.

 

[Guy Miner]

Several very memorable shots - particularly on coyotes - but the one I remember being the most satisfying was only 5 years ago, on my first bear. Hunting here in Washington, baiting is not allowed, nor are dogs allowed for bear hunting, so it's pretty much spot & stalk. I was with a couple of friends, more experienced bear hunters.

I was also using a rifle, fairly new to me, a .375 H&H, Ruger Number One. I'd shot the heck out of it at the range, but had never taken game with it and was unsure of its utility in the hunting field.

We spotted a bear feeding on berry bushes, late in summer. Stalked closer until we ran out of cover, on a rocky outcropping well above the bear. I set up the rifle on shooting sticks, and used the laser rangefinder; 306 yards. Hmmm. Okay. Set the old Redfield on 6x as that was what I'd been using for 200 & 300 yard range practice. Waited for the bear to show himself better. Could hear him breaking branches and moving around.

Finally he stood up, reaching for higher berries. The Ruger barked. I'll never forget the sound of the 260 gr Nosler AccuBond slapping him. He was down like a bowling pin! Gave me an awful lot of confidence in the Ruger and the .375 H&H. My buddies were hooting and hollering. I was just very quietly satisfied, and grinning.



He looks black in the field photo - but he's really a deep, rich, chocolate brown. Terrific rug! Good sized bear for our area.



Guy

 

[DrMike]

And a lovely bear he is, Guy. Excellent account that refreshes the memories of that hunt for many of us.

 

[filmjunkie4ever]

Wow Guy that's a great story, a nice rug and good shooting rifle.

Couldn't ask for more.

 

[26NosFan]

I would have to say that my most memorable shot was taking my first deer, I was 12. My dad had bought a beautiful Ruger #1B in 30-06 topped with a 3-9x. He taught me how to reload for it and I had spent the summer fine tuning a 130gr "fast" load for it because I was sure the only deer I would see would be at the other end of the 56 acre bottom where "my" stand was I wanted it to shoot flat. I had displayed good safety and woods worthiness to my old man enough that he felt I could hunt on my own in a stand. We used a lot of 3031 back then and this was a max load trucking along near 3200 or so. It was cold and wet in Missouri that year so it was in at dawn but out by 9 and out at 3 and in at dark. About 4:30p as I dozed in my stand a shot in the near distance woke me and I bristled thinking that the shot might run something my way. I scanned the open bottom to see if something would come across. To my surprise it wasn't across the field that a deer appeared but 30 yrds in front of me trotted a large doe. I shouldered the single shot and forgot that it was on 9x, all I could see was hair and I triggered it off. to my surprised she just kept on trotting as if nothing happened. I dropped the lever and had a second round in my hand and to my dismay the spent case barely came out of the chamber. See dad didnt like brass flying out on the ground on the bench so he had adjusted the ejector to leave the case in the trough. Not conducive to a rapid follow up with a single shot, especially with a very rattled 12 yr old trying to get a fresh one in it. my gloved fingers couldn't get ahold of it so I upended the rifle and shook it out. The doe had stopped 50 or so yds around the finger of trees looking back over her shoulder at what all the ruckus was. I could see her through the branches. I cranked the scope down to 4x and got her in the crosshairs. I sent another round, she turned and ran unfazed as a branch 20 yrds away fell to the ground, miss. I slung the rifle across my back and shinned out of the stand to the ground and collected my self, loaded another round, pushed the safety on and walked slowly around the finger. There was the doe standing broadside I estimated 250 yds away down the edge of the field. I cranked the scope to 9x and got down on one knee. At this point I am shaking with a tremendous amount of "buck fever". but a funny thing happened as I took a hasty sling and steadied the rifle. My fathers voice was in my ear "sight picture, hold for distance, breath slowly, let it out and hold, squeeze" I leveled the crosshairs across her back and even with the front leg. With his words echoing the shaking stopped. The rifle recoiled and she disappeared. I didn't reload. I slipped the safety on slung the rifle and walked slowly what seemed a mile. honestly I never looked up from the ground, if I did I just knew she would jump and run. I literally walked right up on her white belly shining in the tall fescue in fields edge. She was mine. a HUGE barren doe that weighed 180lbs, an old girl. I smiled and grinned and did a little happy dance. To my surprise the first bullet had gone right where it was supposed to, just behind the shoulder, at that range the bullet zipped right on through. She was dead and didn't know it. The long shot the bullet barely dropped, hitting the spine. I decided that I was not going to wait for dad to walk to my stand at dark to get me and my doe, I was going to field dress her myself. Wow that was an experience in its self. Though I managed to get it done, I had watch dad do it many times, when done it looked like I had field dressed her with a lawn mower. Dad was proud I did it all on my own but he had to do some clean up on my work. Its a memory I often think about when I remember him.
later that winter I fell on some ice and broke my wrist, that rifle and a few others went down the road to pay for the doctor bills. We had no insurance. To this day I find myself wanting one just like it. To remember that shot and him more.