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I have about 3 or 4 crazy stories, but I'll give my first one. I started hunting in 1990, at 12 years old. We have private land in fayette county, and back then most people went elsewhere to hunt. In a good year there would be 2 bucks taken between 15-20 hunters.

Well I remember that first day was nice and warm. My dad put a sheet of plywood on a power line tower for us to sit. Well after eating a nice lunch and seeing quite a few doe, I had about all I could take and fell asleep.

I awoke and was quite out of it and not holding my gun. A few minutes later out walks a nice little 4 pt, at 75 yards walking towards us. There was no way to pick up my gun. My dad kept saying wait till he turns or put his head down, and I'm going just shoot him. thats the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to see me get him. well at 50 yards the lil guy turns and heads into a ticket. After waiting and waiting my dad finally squeezes off a quick shot. We go over and all we can fine is a small amount of white belly hair and no blood to speak of.

Now fast forward to the first friday of rifle season. My dad said he would be home early to take me out after I got home from school. Well it was almost 430 by the time he gets home from work. He rushes in and starts getting dressed and I act like a snot nosed 12 old saying there's no point in going out now.

My mom made me get dressed and go out. We walk out and there is a group of does feeding in the field, after watching them they run off. We walk back and walk the field Look around and see nothing.

Its time to head in. Now my dad has always had a habit of tossing rocks or a heavy branch into thickets. That night he picks up a good size rock and throws it in to the little ticket that the 4 pt came out of. as the rock crashes into the thickets something jumps up and we hear it run out the bottom of the hill. My dad sends me down the path to see if I could catch a glimpse while he waited in the field.

I get to the bottom and start walking the gas line back to our house, and to my amazement a huge buck jumps up and disappears right back into the brush. Now being a new hunter I have no idea what to do. I can't see him but can hear him. So he starts running away from me in the woods. the gas line I'm walking parallels the woods. So I give chase. After about 50 yards he stops and turns back. Keep in mind I can't see him, but can only hear him. I to turn around and now chasing him back to where his bed was. When he gets to the spot where he was bedded down he turns 90 degrees and heads towards the road. I thought oh no he is getting away.

To my surprise hear comes a car. the buck and car meet on the road and the buck does a 180 and heads back towards me. Now at this point he is spooked out of his mind. I try and ready myself for a shot when he crosses the clearing on the gas line. I never shoot. the deer is just flying I watch him leap into the thicket my dad threw the rock in.

Now being young and dumb I start screaming to my dad he's coming he's coming. My dad having no idea what I'm saying starts to move from the field. All of a sudden he hears the buck and sees him bust out. Deer is on a dead run my dad puts him down with 2 perfect shots to the chest. To this day its the biggest buck My dad has bagged. Just a beautiful 8 pt with huge mass and a huge spread. I've killed plenty of deer since then and so has my dad, but I don't think anything will top that for us. I'll always be glad that my mom made that brat go hunting that night!
 

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Two come to mind. On the first saturday one year my dad shot a doe it went down a sidehill. I decided to walk around and climb up in a stand I had overlooking the thick area. As he steps into the woods a big 8 explodes from under his feet. Neither of us can get a shot off in the thick cover. The buck turned and ran across the field to a small strip. There was roughly 8 inches of snow on the ground and I thought I know where the buck would go so I take of at a full sprint to the back property line and my Dad goes to the front and the farmer starts tracking it. I no sooner got done with my roughly 3/4 mile sprint in full hunting gear and 8 inches of snow and am trying to catch my breath and here comes the buck up along the creek. I shoot the buck jumps right down off the 10 foot bank and into the creek, crosses the creek hits the other side goes 20 yards and dies. Im young and dumb and figure they would just make their way to me since they heard the shot and decide to cross the chest deep creek which is about 40 yards wide to retrieve me deer. Well I learned my lesson that day. They decided to put on a couple drives as they made their way to me. They showed up after 30 minutes looked at me and said let me guess. I just shook my head yeas. I was running up and down a gas line to stay warm until they got there to help me lift the buck up out of the creek. Best part of that day was that morning I was sitting with dad in a shack in the snow and shot a doe. We killed three deer hunting together that day. I think I was 20 at the time, it doesnt matter how old I get I still love hunting with my Dad.

On that same farm one year in highschool. I had a swim meet end around 1 oclock the last day of the flintlock season. I convinced my dad to take me out and put on one or two drives before it got dark. On the first drive I hear some deer coming along the sidehill. I see 4 deer running this logging road so I set up for a shot when they turn and head up the hollow. Just then they turn and start down through all this thick crap when they finally cross the trail I am standing on I actually had to take a step back so I could lift the gun without hitting them. When my Dad got to me he said where were the deer and showed him the tracks he said where were you and I said right here. I shot that doe at about 1-2 feet of the end of the barrel. Never even aimed I just shot from the hip. At least I didnt miss I would of never lived that one down.
 
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