I got an American Hunter magazine a few days ago. I read an article titled "Hunting the Bully Buck" by Bryce M. Towsley. It included this description of the hunt's conclusion:
"With the swirling snow, he merged in and out of focus like a ghost running through a foggy night as I swung my muzzleloader up and tried to get the crosshairs ahead of him. Just before he crested the top of the hill, only feet from where I would lose him forever, the sights found their home and I pulled the trigger. The big Barnes slug hammered him as only a .52-caliber can and he instantly hit the ground, skidding through a deep snowdrift before stopping. That threw a huge amount of white powder into the air and the tailing wind grabbed it instantly and whisked it away in a cloud that looked for all the world like his soul leaving his body and moving on to what's next."
Yeesh. That is truly awful.