It was about forty years ago. Been hunting with my dad and sister all day long. Got back to the truck, drove a few miles in the forest on our way home, I forgot to tell you it was the last day of the season. Anyway my dad spots some deer out the window, and says theres a buck! He stops, and we get out of the truck, the deer are gone. My dad says, it was a small forkie, you know, they don't usually run off. Lets walk out in the trees after them, so we did. I walked about a hundred yards off the road, and me and my dad split up. I walked about fifty more yards and a buck stands up,Iput the trusty model seventy 270 on the buck, and bam! he go'es down. As I walk towards the buck, he get's up and I shoot him again. When I walk up to the buck, I think to myself, this buck doesn't look like the first buck I shot at. My dad walks up and I tell him what happened, I then walked back and found another buck. So I was a poacher on my first buck, I shot two. Well my dad showed me how to gut them out, and filled out our tags. The only thing wrong was he put his tag on the biggest one!
It was a once in a lifetime deal,it changed things forever. all I could think about after that first buck was BUCKS, BUCKS and more Bucks.
Never had a two in one season again, thank god, the warden wouldn't approve.
Thanks
Brownie