Your favorite, or most memorable shot?

[FrankenMauser]

So, we have the typical "best shot" or "most impressive shot" threads a couple times a year.

But I'd like to depart slightly from that. I'm curious: What has been your favorite or most memorable shot on a game animal?


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It's tough to pick, and my choice might change day-to-day; but at least right now, my personal favorite was a shot on a doe antelope. Part of it was the stalk. Part of it was the shot. A small part was the aftermath.

I spent at least an hour stalking a herd of pronghorn, by way of a jog down a dry riverbed, that we had spotted from camp while packing up to leave. They may have only been 800 yards from camp, but I covered at least twice that in the winding, twisted, meandering riverbed. Half way through the stalk, I was nearly busted by two wandering bucks, at about 50 yards, that sighted me in the sagebrush on the bank while I was trying to see how close I was. To get them to lose interest, I bobbed up and down like a drunken duck and wobbled my head back and forth like a fox tearing apart a prized chicken. I also took off my sweater and wiggled it around until I tossed it onto some sagebrush. Antelope, while blessed with great eyesight, are stupid and easily confused, so they ignored me and went about their business in a slow walk toward the herd.

Once I finally reached what I determined to be the closest I could get to the herd through the riverbed, I crawled through the sagebrush on the bank; carefully planted myself behind a sagebrush with a large V-notch in the middle, at the edge of the grass plain; and set my .30-06 up on a set of home-brew shooting sticks my brother (cornbush) put together. I figured a neck shot would be good enough. If I was lucky and judged the range correctly, it would put the bullet square in the brain. Knowing that the .30-06 was sighted for a different load (8" high at 100 yards with this one!), I pulled half way up the neck with a good-looking doe staring at me head-on, and squeezed off a shot. All I heard was the report of the rifle.

As the rifle settled from recoil, my target was gone, and the rest of the herd was hauling butt out of there. They didn't know what had happened, but, honestly, neither did I. I racked another round into the chamber for good measure.

I watched anxiously, trying to determine if the shot had been successful, and just couldn't tell. The antelope had stopped abruptly and were still milling around less than 50 yards away, as if they'd been surprised but not spooked badly enough to make them run to the next county.

I only had one tag left to fill, and didn't want to drop another antelope if the one I had been aiming at was already on the ground. Still hidden behind the sagebrush, I kept scanning with the scope; but couldn't make out my target due to some mild swells in the land (I was in a low spot).

Eventually, I decided that I just needed to stand up and walk toward the intended target's location, to see if here was a body in the grass. As I stood, the herd took notice, and, to my surprise, actually started walking towards me. I got a little closer, and so did the goats.

As I crested a small mound on the grassland, I finally saw it: There was a gleaming white butt lying motionless in the 6" sagebrush and 12" grass.
The shot connected!

As I approached the animal to make sure it wasn't suffering, the herd started coming closer. When I got to the dead doe, saw that it was a clean kill, and crouched down to pay last respects, they came even closer. There were at least twenty antelope just 25 yards or less from me, now. Until my hunting party showed up to help with hauling the carcass back to camp, the rest of the herd just hung out, desperately trying to see what I was doing to this doe. I talked to them, yelled at them, and made random, wild gestures to scare them off. It didn't make a difference. I can only assume that it was the lead doe, since I've only ever seen antelope act like that when the lead doe was taken out. (And I do try to take the biggest does possible, when hunting for meat.)

As my brothers figured out how to get across the riverbed to my location with the trucks, I grabbed the doe's ears and picked her head up to see where I had hit.
Bingo!
The bullet hit her square in the bridge of the nose, passed through the brain stem, and exited at the base of the skull, dead-center. Total annihilation and a perfect, instant kill.

[Art Eatman]

Last day of the Texas deer season, and I still lacked a buck. Hunt camp shut down. All we lacked was to hook up the old Jeep to tow it home.

So one last run through the pastures. My father driving, me looking so hard for Bambi that I was burning the leaves off the brush.

Loud whisper, "Stop-stop-stop!" I'd spotted a fair-sized buck way up a hillside in a little opening in the cedar brush. No giant, but quite adequate size.

I turned in the seat, held about six inches above his back and touched off. Bang-whop-plop. I held the sight line while my father hiked up to the buck as I directed him. The bullet had hit about 2/3 down on the near side, moving up and out. Zeroed at 200, I figured that meant about 350 for the shot.

Definitely a good way to end what otherwise could have been a disappointing season.

[Sure Shot Mc Gee]

At a time when I made deer drives with my neighbors. On one of those occasion's I was told to stand by the parked cars that we arrived in and parked by a fence gate to a hayed field. 8 others were taken into the field and spaced every so often down one side of it. At the time I thought why me? Why was I stuck to watching the field from its gate. And all those lucky other Posters who undoubtedly were more likely to see a deer crossing the field than I.
"I was a better shot than a few of them even."

"That's it!! I'm going quit this crew after this drive is done."_

Heard shot ring out way back there in the woods signaling the start of the drive. 15-20 minuets went by. Two of the eight fellows posted in the field had animals laying on the ground. Hm? I heard something coming close and closer off to my left side. At first I thought it was a befuddled Deer Driver coming towards me as those younger hunter/Drivers were always coming out in the wrong places.
Than I thought no Its something else as its moving faster than a mans walking pace. So I perked up!! got the rifle in position for a quick shouldering. Than I seen the tips of its dark antlers right in front of me in the brush 25-30 ft away. >The deer was following the hay fields fence wire.<
{I was told latter I was Posted with the vehicles because they were parked in a woods to opening and back to woods narrow funnel.} All of a sudden the deer spotted me and turned to its left and ran. I thought: Sh - -!! there he goes.
No noise for a minute or two than not more than 50 ft away or so the Buck literally walked out into the opening and immediately stopped and look at me. Broadside to me he stood. It was huge!!! I shot once into its ribs and the deer collapsed on the spot. Yes!!!_"The old-mans 336 SC Marlin in 30-30 bumped it good!!_ I walked over to the deer shaking a bit and started counting points. I stopped counting when I got to 14. Buck field dressed weighed 263 lbs. at the town grainery. Biggest deer I ever shot in all the years I've hunted here in Northern Minnesota.
Um. Funny thing. When I think back to that day. I still can picture that Regal Animal standing there 55 years ago. Uff-da!! what a day in the life of a 15 year old punk kid that was._

[Brian Pfleuger]

We were having a particularly uneventful bow season and, just to pour salt in our wounds, saw a group of deer in a nearby field nearly every evening on the way out.

We had permission to hunt there but it was not really a "bow area", with no place to set up stands or blinds.

After several evenings of seeing these deer, I was determined to find a way to hunt that spot. I walked down there one afternoon and the best I could find was a ~10 foot round patch of Golden Rod right at the corner. Awesome location, didn't seem like a promising hiding spot though.

Undaunted, I took a 5 gallon bucket down for a seat, mashed down an area in the center big enough to sit and quietly move my feet and then broke the tops off in narrow shooting lanes into the field.

Sitting on the bucket, only about the top 1/2 of my head was taller than the Golden Rod.

Sure enough, right about 10 minutes before dark I hear what was for sure a deer walking behind me. It got closer. And closer. And CLOSER. At this point, I was just about figuring it couldn't possibly be a deer. It was WAY too close.

Just as that thought went through my mind, I see movement in my peripheral vision to my left. "Close" does not do justice. I didn't dare blink. This deer stood there looking at me, so close that when it exhaled the fog from it's breathe was drifting in front of my eyes. I don't think the distance could be measured in feet, unless it was "1". Needless to say, my heart was hammering. I was sure she could hear it.

After what seemed like days but was probably 10 seconds, she spooked a little and jumped into the field but only went about 30 yards.

Apparently, she hadn't really figured out what I was because she turned around and slowly but surely made her way diagonally back to the edge, eyeing me suspiciously most of the time, only looking away long enough to grab a bite of alfalfa before staring some more and taking a few steps.

Each time she looked down I'd move a little. Turn ever so slowly.... lift the bow a few inches.. STOP!... wait... lift the bow a few inches....

As they have a habit of doing, she picked the longest stare down to be the moment I came to full draw. I waited... and waited... and waited. She just wouldn't look away. She probably saw me shaking at this point, being that I held about 19lbs with that old bow.

It was a circumstance where today I wouldn't have taken the shot but, being young and dumb, I did. Naturally, she "jumped the string" and bolted. Amazingly, the arrow hit her with a loud THWAP! and she was gone. I had no idea where I had hit her.

My dad came down and we started tracking. Within a few feet there was blood, A LOT of blood... and she lay in the brush not 30 yards from the shot... the arrow had hit her in the rear hip, severed the femoral artery and she bled out nearly instantly. In those days, I was using the cheapest expandable broadhead I could get at WalMart (again, young and dumb). The thing hadn't even opened, still had the rubberband holding it shut.

I don't know if it's "most" memorable because it's awful hard to replace the first, or in my case even the events of my second, but it sure was memorable and the closest I've ever been to a live deer and likely ever will be... unless I kiss one some day.

[jimbob86]

Ah, there are so many ..... but I still think my favorite is this:

Many years ago .... when I was about 6 ..... I begged to go hunting every chance I got , with anybody ...... and convinced my grandfather I would listen well and mind, whatever it took ...... Grampa and his friend Gerald Hedges were going out spot and stalk bowhunting (with 1970someting equipment- wood and fiberglass recurves with wooden, 4 blade arrows with actual feather fletching) ..... in south central Nebraska at that time, killing a deer, any deer, with a bow was a rare thing ..... grampa had an idea where a certain buck had been hanging out, and we saw him slip into a draw full of 6' tall dry sunflowers, with a county road cutting across it near the bottom ...... the draw was too wide for one of them to cover it alone ...... but someone had to block the end .... they came up with the idea of leaving the truck parked on the road and would walk around the section and come down the draw from the top end ...... and it being too far to walk for a 6 year old, they left me in the truck ( ), with instuctions to stay there....... they left and I waited ...... and waited ........ and waited. I had with me a black plastic lever action cap rifle (the kind where you flipped the sidplate up and put a roll of paper caps into it- working the lever advanced the tape containing the caps and cocked the hammer .....) .... and I got bored ...... and got out of the truck. I was playing in the dirt in front of the truck when I heard the sound of something coming through the sunflowers ..... a deer, and a big buck at that, came running out onto the road just feet from me and stopped ..... I commenced to blasting away at the deer with my cap gun ..... the deer spun and ran back the way it had come. A few seconds later, it came running back out again, bleeding profusely ....... and then staggered on across the road into more sunflowers ..... I gave chase. The deer piled up in short order, and when Gerald showed up, I was standing there with one foot on the trophy, stating "I got him." Gerald showed me the arrow wound and the bloody arrow ..... and assured me that he had "got him." I quickly shot back with "Well, you wouldn't have got him if I had'nt slowed him down!"

[FrankenMauser]

Great stories.

Thanks for sharing.

[stillquietvoice]

about ten years ago i went to my sister and btothrt in laws place in southern va. tom always razzed me for shooting 3006 until this trip. we were all sitting arround the dinning room table drinking coffee when i saw a wounded whitetail crossing rt 58. closer inspection with binoculars revealed a broken leg which kept dragging. at which point i told my sis to get my rifle.
i loaded to rounds and headed to their back door before i made my sis opened up her kitchen window i took a solid rest (leaning acrossed the sink) and waited for a quartering shot. hit him behind left shoulder at 200. tom was watching through binocs. said aint never seen anything like that before. it picked him up off the ground and laid him on hid side. now i know why you shoot that cannon you hit em and they stay hit.

[tahunua001]

I'd say probably my Black bear. you've all seen the picture. I was using my type 44 Arisaka carbine... there were two bears at the bait, I chose the one that gave the best broadside hit and.... gun jammed... had to walk back to the truck with a rifle that was locked up tighter than... well locked up at any rate... with at least one uninjured and probably angry bear walking around and another possibly injured and even more angry bear.

got to the truck, got my backup gun went back and started to track... 50 feet away inside the trees laid my bear, the other one wasn't in any mood to stick around... it was my first time hunting with open sights, the first time I took a bear, and the oldest rifle I've successfully hunted with. great day.

[bamaranger]

About 10 springs ago, maybe more, late in the gobbler season, I was out on a woods road , listening for gobbling birds. On the ridge opposite me, a turkey began to gobble, not hard or often, but periodically, every 5-10 min or so.

I relocated to his side, and slid in against a smallish white oak. I'd estimate I'd been able to close to within 100 yds, the late season foilage and the lay of the land allowed a pretty close approach. Some subtle yelps on a mouth call and he answered, and when he gobbled again, he'd halved the distance.

I already had the 870 up and pointed his direction. The morning sun was just cresting the skyline in the east. My first glimpse of the bird was the tips his full fan appearing against the rising sun. A few more steps and the full fan was apparent, the rising sun tucked behind it, the fan fairly glowing in the light of the new day. He stopped and dropped into a half strut and raised his head. I pushed the bead of the rifle sighted barrel into the groove and made the shot, an easy one at about 20 yds.

Busting a tom at 20 yds with a shotgun is not hard when everything goes right. The gobbler was not a giant, I'd have to check my notes, but I recall he was a mature, average bird in the 16 lb range with 6-8" of beard and spurs less than an inch. I'd call him a 2 yr old.

But the combination of sights and sound of that spring morning is burned deeply in my memory.

[Blindstitch]

Ok I have one. Actually I have two but I'll do the oldest one.

I was 14 and it was my first year hunting deer with a gun. I was hunting a hardwood forest out of a box blind over bait. I would say the box blind was 6x6 and 8 feet tall with a good sized window for shooting out when bowhunting. The blind is dug into a hillside with 4-5 feet exposed at the rear.

Well I'm sitting there with my dad on opening day and it's no where close to legal shooting hours but we wanted to be early since the deer were coming in early. It's maybe an hour from shooting light and we hear crunching leaves coming down the hill. Instead of going right into the bait pile the deer rounds the corner and comes straight towards us. It's now standing in front of the blind staring us down and we're frozen. Then it steps forward sticking its whole head and neck into the blind like a wall mount. We're sitting against the back wall wonder what this thing is going to do. After a few minutes the doe backs out of the blind and goes into the bait pile. She was only there for about 5 minutes and then moved on.

In hopes not to repeat the event my dad hung a piece of plywood covering the lower half of the window. The window was probably 30x20 inches vertical. So now the window is half size. The sun starts coming up and we sit back and watch the light bring things to life. Since it was my first year I didn't have a gun and dad wouldn't lend me a rifle with a scope. But he gave me a Mossberg 500 20 gauge and a handful of slugs.

So we're sitting there and here comes this 3 point buck that walks right in to the bait pile. It gave me the perfect broadside shot. Well i'm sitting on a bench seat in the back of the blind and my feet can't even touch the ground but I pull up the shotgun and i'm trying to get the bead on the deer. Finally I get comfortable and pull the trigger. The gun goes bang but the barrel wasn't out the window so it's loud. And we watch as I shot the plywood piece reducing the window went flying. The deer curled its back and jumped up vertically like a cat and the slug caught it in the spine and it fell to the ground.

Neither of us could hear and we could see the plywood piece clearly with a slug hole through it and we just start laughing. After about 5 minutes we go out and drag the deer behind the blind so we can keep hunting.

30 minutes later a fast moving 10 point worked it's way through the swamp in front of us maybe 70 yards away. It never stopped and never presented a clean shot but it just proves that one gun shot won't ruin the day so be patient.

That was 20 years ago this season.

[David R]

I grew up on Tug Hill in northern NY. I carried a Savage 222/20 ga mostly hunting Partridge. When deer hunting went on, I did the driving and carried the same gun shooting grouse if I saw one. One day behind my dads place in the woods farthest from the house, I was sneaking through the woods. I could hear another crew driving the woods next to me. No big deal, but it was private property. I walked out the far edge of thewoods into a field about 100 yards from the corner. I stood there for a minute and out came a deer running the hedge row quartering away from me . I pulled up and fired at the buck without thinking. It ran about 50 yards, then BANG! another rifle went off and the deer colapsed leaving a small "skid mark" of blood as it slid to a stop.

I headed over to the deer counting my paces. 135 of em. The deer was on a dead run when I shot it. As I got to the deer other hunters showed up. None of them dressed properly for hunting and no tags displayed on there backs. The one gentleman said it was his deer. I said no I shot it and here is a teeny hole on the right side with a slightly larger hole forward on the left side. The hunter said it was his deer because it dropped when his gun went off. I looked at the deer and saw a small slice on top of its rump in the hair, barely touching the skin lengthwise on the deer. I asked the hunter what caliber he was using he said 308. I said YUP I have a 222 and those are my little holes in the deer. The deer was running directly toward the other hunter.

They gutted the deer and took it. I let em have it. It was my first deer, but Iam kind of laid back. It was as 6 point with long hooves that I had seen before.

Still, I am proud of that shot, 135 yards on a dead run, peep sight on the single shot rifle. We had been practicing for years on running deer targets at the club. If I would have thought about the shot before I took it, sure would have been a miss.

The following night I was in a tree stand right where the buck had run out of the woods along the hedge row. It was the last hour of the season. I sat there hearing crunching in the dry leaves for what seemed like forever. I figured it was a huge buck "sneaking" along the hedge row towards me. A partridge walked up towards me in the stand about 35 yards away. That night I had a scoped 7 mm mag so I could hunt both fields on either side of me. I pulled out my 45 auto, cocked the hammer, squeezed one off and "Click" it went. "Oh Shiess" no cartridge in the chamber. OH well, l don't want to spook him, but nothing to loose, so I racked one in and squeezed off the shot. Next thing, its flitting on the ground for a few seconds then stopped. My dad heard the shot and yelled to me "Did you get it?" I said YES. He said I will be over to help you gut it. I yelled back "I already did".

That was probably 25 years ago.

I am also proof shooting does not harm the deer hunging. I hunted partridge while driving deer all the time I lived up there. Some folks got deer, I got birds.

Merry Christamss Every one
David

[taylorce1]

Well my most memorable shot would probably have to be when I hunted black bear in Alaska. You can read all about it here. The problem is I have a ton of memorable hunts/shots and I have a bunch of memorable hunts and where no shots were taken.

[AzShooter]

Years ago I was a Professional Archer. I was known for shooting perfect scores and a few Robin Hood shots, splitting and arrow with another shot.

A young girl came into the range and after being introduced she said " Will you jam an arrow for me?" I told her I'd try my best. On the next end I did it and gave her the two arrows.

Twenty minutes later she said " Can you do one for my brother?" On the next end, with a bunch of people watching I did another Robin Hood.

I called a few more over the years but never two in an evening. That's the best shot I ever did.

Sorry, I didn't see this was to be a hunting story.

[Savage99]

I shot my first buck with the .222 my late dad had bought for me as a 14 year old beginner deer hunter.

I got the deer up in Vermont while hunting with my dad. We stayed with a family there who put up hunters.

A complete handloading outfit came with the rifle and scope. Every deer I have ever shot has been with my handloads. The load was the 55 gr Sierra Semi Pt over 4198. I shot the buck in it's neck at about 175 yards from the sitting position and it died instantly. I had some gallery target shooting experience.

That was quite an event at the Vermont home where other out of state hunters were staying. Someone offered to buy the buck from me.

[FrankenMauser]

Great stories. Thanks for continuing to share.

The problem is I have a ton of memorable hunts/shots and I have a bunch of memorable hunts and where no shots were taken.

I completely understand.

Every one of the tags that I've filled has been memorable.
Every one of the tags I've failed to fill has been memorable (shots fired, or not - including the year that my military leave was revoked and my Wyoming antelope "hunt" was spent confined to quarters in a Las Vegas hotel [for unit security reasons - not punishment]).
And every hunt where I've simply been an extra body has been memorable.

This year is a good example:
The elk hunt (I was an extra body) didn't go so well, and I still have a perfect mental image of my brother's vomitus splattering in slow-motion on the doorframe of my trailer, at the exact moment that I realized he was going to be spending some time in a hospital. Very memorable.

And, on the last day of the deer hunt (Idaho), I had a group of moronic jerkwads shooting pine chickens (grouse) on the road below me (illegal), while I was on an old logging trail waiting for a buck to come out of some maple scrub. Lucky for me (), the sound carried well, and I could hear everything the jerkwads were saying. One of the adults decided to "scare down" the does and fawns that were in the open, and fired several shots over my head, into the hillside. At that point, I yelled a bit, and started heading back into the trees and toward my truck.

When one of the kids with .22s saw me 200+ yards above them on the hillside, he asked the adults, "What's walking up there?" ...And that's when things got a little ugly. I don't know which of the men it was, but one of them responded sarcastically, "Oh, that's probably just Bigfoot." Again, lucky for me, I could hear everything they were saying. But, still... The next 20+ minutes involved shotgun blasts in my direction, bullet impacts in my area, and me trying to stay below the artificial horizon (edge of the logging trail) so that I was out of the line of fire as I headed back toward my truck.
I won't be forgetting it any time soon. Memorable, but far from a favorite.

(Before anyone goes there: I don't want to discuss the legalities or ethics getting shot at or shooting back while hunting, in this thread. This isn't the place for that. I'd like to keep this thread dedicated to good stories.)

[Sevens]

Okay, since AzShooter relayed a non-animal tale, I will also. This way when FrankenMauser comes down in a hellfire-fury, I'll have someone to help take the brunt of it!

First time I ever visited the club I now call home, my buddy took us to the rifle range where an older guy was set up. This guy knew who I was -- because he'd met my buddy & he knew we were friends. Apparently... he wasn't overly fond of some of the different posts I'd made over the past year on a discussion forum we all call home. In any case, he was pretty gruff with me but certainly not awful. He decided VERY early on that he was going to "test me." ?!

I set up with my 14" Contender in .223 with 6x Bushnell. This guy (somehow?!) decided that I was going to make a shot on to his 12-inch steel plate that was hung at 300 yards. And that I was going to "buy him lunch at Olive Garden" if I couldn't pull it off.

I am the friendly and talkative type, so I took all of this in stride. He was a new friend of my new friend, so no harm, no foul. But I told him that it had been quite some time since I shot this rig and I didn't know where my shots would land -- and that I had never (not once ever!) taken a shot with it over 100 yards. With much confidence, he told me that he'd get me dialed in.

So he sat two benches down with his spotting scope and told me to drop a shot on his to his 50-yard plate, which I did, and he told me to take another to ensure I would hit it twice in the same spot... which I did. At this point he glances over and sees that I'm using my rolled-up sweatshirt for a rest. "None of that nonsense, so there won't be any excuses!" and he brings over his sand bags for a proper rest.

From his spot behind the glass, he tells me how many clicks to adjust on my optic and tells me to put a shot on to his 200 yard steel plate. So I make the sight adjustment he told me to make -- and I crack a shot and ring the hell out of his 200 yard plate. And I am a happy guy.

And from his spot, he calls for another elevation adjustment on my optic. I mention that with my 14" tube... I'm probably lacking 150-200 fps from what he's used to with his bolt gun. He revises his recommendation and settles on the adjustment and tells me 14 clicks. So I make 14 clicks.

I take my time and at this point there isn't another person out there that isn't frozen and watching me line up for this shot. I let it go and it -SMACKS- his 300 yard, 12-inch plate!

I was more relieved than happy, at least for the first half a minute. After that I was ear-to-ear grinning. Shortly after, he drove down range in the truck and collected his plates. He pulled the 300 yard plate out to show me:

Honestly? I was just as impressed with his ability to see my shots, call for the adjustments and put my one single shot on to his 300 yard plate.

I was proud of myself for making the shot when it counted. But also... that was a Contender I bought new and I mounted that Bushnell glass on it 16 years before that day, and I crafted those handloads that made that shot and rang that plate.

Hahaha, look at the single bullet hit on the freshly-painted plate. It was 100% in the middle, maybe a 1/4" low from dead center, but it sure looked like sweet victory to me. He posed with me for the picture and the tale was told on that same forum a couple days later... all three of us had some things to say about it, but it was all good.

[hooligan1]

I've made several tough shots, last minute kills, I have so many stories to tell.
This one always comes to mind, It was one deer season when my number 1 and number 2 sons were getting old enough to go with me to deerhunt.
A good friend of mine invited my #2 son and I to a remote farm in Northern Missouri, it had snowed 2 or 3 days before hand and stayed cold enough that the 6 or 8 inch snow hadn't melted any.
Well my son and I had walked down a fence line past a timber plot that was 2 -3 acres long, and come around the back of it when I saw 2 deer at about 350 yds, those deer stood out something fierce in that bright snow, I told Chris to stop, and I laid down prone in the snow and took aim, high in the back right behind her shoulder and squeezed, deer went down, I turned to see Chris's expression, it was one of disbelief that I could actually hit a deer that far...
Never forget that, he was 8-9 years old....

[reynolds357]

I was shooting a Whitetail Buck at about 300 yards and he moved his head very rapidly just as the trigger was in the process of breaking. Instead of shooting him in the shoulder, I shot him in the top of the head and shot one side of his rack off. It knocked him out and he woke up on me when I started to load him on the Ranger.

[big al hunter]

My most memorable shot...shots occurred while hunting with my father. The shots were actually his. We were hunting a power line cut during the early muzzle loader season. I spotted a spike at about 200 yards, he was mostly hidden in a blackberry bramble. We decided to get within 100 yards. As we walked the buck watched us without moving. I gave him another good look through my binoculars and spotted another spike bedded next to the first.
We decided I would shoot the first one and when the second stood up after the shot, dad would shoot him. I sat down and wrapped my sling for a stable shot. It was uphill and the vegetation would not allow a more stable position. I suggested that dad do the same, but pride got in the way as he said he would shoot standing like a man.

I shot my buck and watched as he ran across the hill and piled up about 30 yards away from his original location. Meanwhile the second spike stood up and stayed put, watching the other buck . Dad took a careful aim and squeezed off a shot...except his cap did not go off. While he was racing to change his cap I reloaded my muzzle loader and watched as he tried again. The buck hadn't moved yet. The second cap on dad's gun performed with the same lack of flame as the first. I could see my deer was going nowhere, so I handed him my gun. While I cleaned off his old cap dad shot at the deer with my gun...missing his mark ( buck feever combined with frustration). I handed him his gun with a clean nipple and loaded mine again. Dad's third cap had the same problem as the first two. I handed him my gun, now loaded again. Same effect as before... a clean miss. We repeated the process again. I couldn't believe that deer was hanging around through all this. Dad shot my gun 3 times and his finally fired for a fourth shot at the deer. That was the worst case of missfire we had had. I was out of loads for my gun and dad didn't trust his so we watched the lucky little buck walk over the top of the hill unharmed. We tracked the buck for a hundred yards to make sure none of the rounds had hit him, just in case.

Sometimes it's not the shot that connects that creates memories that last. That was a couple years before dad passed away. I often think back to that day and remember how disappointed dad was with his caps. He was too stubborn and cheap to spend $1 for a new can of caps....he repeated the same 3 misfires at a deer 4 days later. Then he decided that he would buy new caps every year, whether he need them or not.

I sure miss that stubborn old goat.

[Unlicensed Dremel]

Well, it's an archery shot, so I'll leave that one out, this being a gun forum.

Honestly, don't have a great one, so the most memorable one with gun was just shooting a .22 Super colibri no-powder load from a Marlin 915Y around the house at a male great-tailed grackle. Have killed many "close" (under 25 yards), but I was very surprised I hit this one "over yonder" in a pecan tree, since I didn't know the holdover and just guessed - held just a couple inches over his head and dropped him.. surprisingly little drop for a stubby 20 grainer at 500 fps....it was probably 60+ yards.

[FrankenMauser]

This is the hunting forum. Archery shots are more than welcome.
Please share.

Okay, since AzShooter relayed a non-animal tale, I will also. This way when FrankenMauser comes down in a hellfire-fury, I'll have someone to help take the brunt of it!

I'm watching you. Always watching....

[waveslayer]

sighting in my .308. poor fly at 108 yards! my dad couldn't believe it when he spotted me through his spotting scope.

[Boogershooter]

Waveslayer with all the red left on that target it looks more like a louisiana misquito than a fly.

[Jack O'Conner]

I nailed this fine South Dakota buck at approx. 325 yards which is a very long shot for me. My .243 bullet toppled him in his tracks with a double lung shot.

Jack

[x500ben]

Lots of good stories but here's one with a 22.
Probably about 20 years ago we were in the farm yard with my 22. This particular rifle was my first 22 and was a BSA century match rifle. I soon gave up being a gravel belly and had the rifle cut for a scope and threaded for a silencer.
Anyway there we were and across the field were a couple of hares , Jack rabbits to most of you. My brother and a couple of friends were joking about me hitting one of the hares, the distance was later paced out to be 270 yards .
So always up for a shooting challenge I duly lined up one of the hares and let fly a winchester subsonic hollow point. The little quiet slug promptly fell well short of the 6 foot of drop I had given it and I saw it land in the very bottom of the scope. So a quick reload and we were all amazed to see the hare roll over to the shot with a solid hit in the ribcage.
I still believe that I would never pull that shot off again but at least I did it in front of witnesses