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I was hunting in Illinois with my son on a friend's farm. We had seen a few nice deer moving the days prior, but couldn't get close enough for a shot. On Friday the 13 this dude walks by at 9:30. He is too far away on the other side of a small creek. He seems like he will keep going never to offer a shot. Three soft grunts later has him crossing and headed my way. Each step bringing him closer 40,35,30 never offering a clear shot. To my horror he's starting to angle slightly away bringing him into my wind. As I stand motionless, willing him to turn and walk the other way, his whole demeanor changes. He begins throwing his massive head up catching my scent. He backs up then turns to vacate the area. Stopping at the creek crossing for one last look was his downfall. I focus, draw, anchor and release. A benefit of shooting a recurve. I watch my arrow fly in slow motion as it appears to pass under him into the sparse vegetation. He bolts down into the creek and as he emerges up the other side I can see 7 inches of my fletching protruding from behind his last rib perfectly angled reaching the vitals. He runs into the thicket out of sight. As I strain my ears in what seems like eons I hear him crash. I follow the short blood trail and find a 13 pt, 250 pound brute that green scores 184 2/8 inches. The shot was later ranged to be 43yds. [img:center]
 
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