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The whole story goes something like this:
My dad and I were deer hunting, along with some other family members. We set up to drive a long timbered and I was a driver. I started walking down the ditch and hadn't gong 50 yards when I jumped an 8 point buck. It took off like a bat out of h*ll, and since I don't like shooting at running deer I let him go.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the draw my dad, a stander, was trying to just where he was wanted to stand. Looking down he noticed He was standing on a deer trail. Looking up he noticed the eight pointer coming right at him on a dead run. Pulling up his shotgun and shooting from the hip(he didn't have time to raise it to his shoulder) he shot the deer from 1.5 feet as he jumped out of the way.
When I reached him 15 min later he was shaking like a leaf and mumbling something about a blood trail. We found the deer 40 yds down the trail.
BTW my dad's rifled M37 Ithaca is the most accurate gun in the group, (clover-leafs at 100 yards, but he has(an probobly always will) the closest kill.
P.S. I still tease him about how I almost pulled off the perfect murder!!!
Good day!
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