theriflespeaks1863
Member
Notice I said, "let go." Not "got away," "missed," etc. Let go.
Most of my hunting is the pursuit of the 4-legged brown pests known here in Wisconsin as Whitetails. Sure, I do my fair share of small game, upland and turkey, but our cloven-hoofed meals on legs are my most frequent prey.
Some years ago, my family and I started hunting on a leased property near Portage, WI. For those not familiar with the area, this is basically smack-dab in the center of the state. Lots of farms, Amish, and wooded, rolling hills. Beautiful.
One of the first years I was there, I was sitting with my Aunt Rose in an elevated stand that was placed near the end of a 'point-' more like an isthmus, really, as it was a thin patch of tall grass and brush that seperated a cornfield from a marsh that was partially on the lease and partially on public land. Thick woodline lay to our backs and at our fronts. The stand was poorly covered, so the November winds chilled us deep. Soon, both of us were drifting off in our respective corner of the stand.
Suddenly, there was an incredible crashing noise as a VERY large buck blundered his way out of the woodline to our rear and right. Being barely awake, my aunt and I were slow to raise our weapons. Her M1 Carbine became tangled, while I was able to shoulder my fathers' Browning BAR (fine, fine, FNAR...) and find the buck in the crosshairs of the 5x Redfield as he trotted down the isthmus, then bounded about 30 yards into the marsh. Then he stopped.
I was able to get a good look at the deer for the few seconds he stood still in the long grass. He stood high enough that most of his upper body could be seen above the grass. He was quartering almost completely away and I couldn't guess a weight, but I CAN tell you that he wore a rack whose spread could have wrapped around my shoulders with a point tucked into each of my shoulder blades. I counted 12 points. My aunt and the almighty as my witness, I swear this was the deer I saw.
Then I realized something. The deer was facing away. In a marsh. 110 yards from my position, maybe more. The wind was blowing straight across my line of fire. And I didn't feel like risking a terrible shot or- even if my 150 grain .30-06 menace didn't down him- trudging into a soppy marsh to drag his rather large behind out, not to mention gutting him.
So, I watched him turn and trot off the property through the marsh and onto public land. I have not regretted not taking that shot.
So, anyone else with a story of the shot not taken? (Paraphrasing R. Frost, just a little... )
-Chris
Most of my hunting is the pursuit of the 4-legged brown pests known here in Wisconsin as Whitetails. Sure, I do my fair share of small game, upland and turkey, but our cloven-hoofed meals on legs are my most frequent prey.
Some years ago, my family and I started hunting on a leased property near Portage, WI. For those not familiar with the area, this is basically smack-dab in the center of the state. Lots of farms, Amish, and wooded, rolling hills. Beautiful.
One of the first years I was there, I was sitting with my Aunt Rose in an elevated stand that was placed near the end of a 'point-' more like an isthmus, really, as it was a thin patch of tall grass and brush that seperated a cornfield from a marsh that was partially on the lease and partially on public land. Thick woodline lay to our backs and at our fronts. The stand was poorly covered, so the November winds chilled us deep. Soon, both of us were drifting off in our respective corner of the stand.
Suddenly, there was an incredible crashing noise as a VERY large buck blundered his way out of the woodline to our rear and right. Being barely awake, my aunt and I were slow to raise our weapons. Her M1 Carbine became tangled, while I was able to shoulder my fathers' Browning BAR (fine, fine, FNAR...) and find the buck in the crosshairs of the 5x Redfield as he trotted down the isthmus, then bounded about 30 yards into the marsh. Then he stopped.
I was able to get a good look at the deer for the few seconds he stood still in the long grass. He stood high enough that most of his upper body could be seen above the grass. He was quartering almost completely away and I couldn't guess a weight, but I CAN tell you that he wore a rack whose spread could have wrapped around my shoulders with a point tucked into each of my shoulder blades. I counted 12 points. My aunt and the almighty as my witness, I swear this was the deer I saw.
Then I realized something. The deer was facing away. In a marsh. 110 yards from my position, maybe more. The wind was blowing straight across my line of fire. And I didn't feel like risking a terrible shot or- even if my 150 grain .30-06 menace didn't down him- trudging into a soppy marsh to drag his rather large behind out, not to mention gutting him.
So, I watched him turn and trot off the property through the marsh and onto public land. I have not regretted not taking that shot.
So, anyone else with a story of the shot not taken? (Paraphrasing R. Frost, just a little...
)-Chris
