marley
Very Active Member
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- 2,458
My number 1 priority was to get my son his first buck. On his 3rd day of hunting he got his first buck at 200 yards with his .280. There wasn't enough head for his grin the whole way out.
Then the next day my friend glassed up this buck about a mile away and off he went. I got to watch the whole thing unfold through the spotting scope. When he got to the canyon he thought the buck was in, his does split, running over the saddle. He thought maybe the buck had split before he got there but when he glassed back at me and saw me still glued to my spotter instead of packing up he thought the buck must still be in there. Little did he know that I could see him and the buck still hanging tight in his bed in the same field of view in my spotter. One more step and the buck bolted. It was like watching an intense movie. All of a sudden the buck dropped like a rock as he was running up the hillside. My buddy's arms went in the air and then I heard the boom a few seconds later.
All week I had been concentrating on trying to get my son a buck and had been passing on many smaller bucks. In the week of hunting I had passed on 34 bucks and blew my chances at a legit 200" buck that made me sick to my stomach. I spent the next couple day trying to find this buck again with no luck. My friend and I decided to go back to our other area for the last day. 2 hours into glassing from our perch. Skimming back over where he had shot his buck he excitedly said, "gimme the spotter!" Sure enough there was a nice buck bedded in the exact same spot my buddy had killed his buck in 2 days prior. Off I went with literally 1 hour left of my season. When I crested the last ridge the buck took off up the canyon. Instantly, I lost sight of the buck as he bolted up the bottoms. I sprinted to the top hoping to catch him running up the other side. As he came busting out the bottom I frantically searched for a rest. There was nothing. Breathing hard from the sprint I couldn't keep my crosshairs on him as he ran up the other side. When he got about 250 yards he stopped and turned broadside. I gathered myself, held my breath and steadied the gun the best I could free hand. On the shot he dropped like a rock. He ended up dead within 100 yards of where my buddy's buck had dropped. What a great season for the three of us.
Then the next day my friend glassed up this buck about a mile away and off he went. I got to watch the whole thing unfold through the spotting scope. When he got to the canyon he thought the buck was in, his does split, running over the saddle. He thought maybe the buck had split before he got there but when he glassed back at me and saw me still glued to my spotter instead of packing up he thought the buck must still be in there. Little did he know that I could see him and the buck still hanging tight in his bed in the same field of view in my spotter. One more step and the buck bolted. It was like watching an intense movie. All of a sudden the buck dropped like a rock as he was running up the hillside. My buddy's arms went in the air and then I heard the boom a few seconds later.
All week I had been concentrating on trying to get my son a buck and had been passing on many smaller bucks. In the week of hunting I had passed on 34 bucks and blew my chances at a legit 200" buck that made me sick to my stomach. I spent the next couple day trying to find this buck again with no luck. My friend and I decided to go back to our other area for the last day. 2 hours into glassing from our perch. Skimming back over where he had shot his buck he excitedly said, "gimme the spotter!" Sure enough there was a nice buck bedded in the exact same spot my buddy had killed his buck in 2 days prior. Off I went with literally 1 hour left of my season. When I crested the last ridge the buck took off up the canyon. Instantly, I lost sight of the buck as he bolted up the bottoms. I sprinted to the top hoping to catch him running up the other side. As he came busting out the bottom I frantically searched for a rest. There was nothing. Breathing hard from the sprint I couldn't keep my crosshairs on him as he ran up the other side. When he got about 250 yards he stopped and turned broadside. I gathered myself, held my breath and steadied the gun the best I could free hand. On the shot he dropped like a rock. He ended up dead within 100 yards of where my buddy's buck had dropped. What a great season for the three of us.