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You reminded me of a hunting trip I sort of took once. My hunting pal came by early one Saturday morning and said come with me to hunt deer. I got my trusty old 3006 with the 180 grain Federals I had never missed with and away we went. Several hours later we were bouncing through the mountain peaks kicking does out of the road when I spied a buck on top of a mountain in a kind of saddle shaped depression near the top. Once stopped I looked through the scope and sure enough there he was waiting in plain view. I decided to use the roof of the truck to steady the gun and took aim at the exposed shoulder. Just as I squeezed the triggger my friend took his foot of the brake and the truck lurched forward a bit. It looked like I finally had a miss with that gun and load as the deer appeared to duck into the saddle for cover. I began scrambling up the hill with my gun at the ready knowing he would break cover and run as I approached over the dry Southwest Texas mounytain . Back at the truck I could hear advice coming up behind me. The closer I got ther surer I got I was about to have to try a very fast running shot. finally, I was practically on top of where he had to be and worried about getting run over as he sprang out of cover. Still, no movement. I looked into the brush next to me and there he was stone cold dead. The shoulder shot had been thrown off alright and hit him just at the base of the skull on his neck. He never knew what hit him. We dragged him to the road and gutted him there. I had him sacked and in the pickup and home by noon. Old Betsy had done it again. Not me but the Great Spirit of the hunt was who guided that bullets flight that morning and saved my reputation. All true hunters I know have meet that spirit at least once. We keep going back to meet him again.
Last edited by Wrangler; 03-19-2006 at 09:59 AM.
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