Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Deer Hunting Funnest deer

Today I noticed two of my funnest deer hunt�s antlers were nailed to the wall side by side. I don�t remember seeing a thread about one�s funnest deer so I started this.

The one with the broken points gave me buck fever so that�s always fun. I was glassing over a plateau with grass about eighteen to twenty inches high. I saw some antlers a ways out but couldn�t make out if they belonged to a legal buck. Switching to the rifle scope to take a closer look must have attracted the deer�s attention because two bucks arose from the grass. Immediately I sat down. The deer started toward me. After turning the scope up a little I still couldn�t determine the legality of either of the bucks. Finally when I turned the z5 all the way to 25X I could see the one had three points on side. They were small, but they were there. Apparently this guy was a fighter because tips were broken on both sides. I have no idea why buck fever hit, but I had to wait for a moment to settle down before I could fire.

The one with the big spike had a third point growing up beside the spike which broke off while it was tumbling down the hill after the two shots. I had been practicing working the bolt without taking the rifle from its shooting position. This buck got up and presented a trotting broadside shot. I fired. It didn�t go down so I worked the bolt and fired again without loosing my sight picture! Practice pays off. This time it went down and disappeared by falling at least a hundred feet down the hill, piling up against a tree. What makes this one one of the funnest is the practice worked and both shot�s bullets hit so close together there was one entrance hole. On exit was behind the shoulder. The other was in front of the shoulder.

What�s your story?

One of my most fun had antlers about the size of those in your pic. I was sneaking up an old logging trail in the pre-dawn, carrying a vintage Winchester Model 64 with a receiver sight.
I was doing some periodic glassing and I saw a buck standing, staring at me, only his head and neck visible from about 85 yards.
It was way too dark to shoot, so I slowly eased into a sitting position to see what would happen�he caught me pretty much in the open so there was little other choice.
By my watch, neither one of us moved a muscle for 23 minutes while it finally got light enough to use my sights. Put the bead on his white throat patch and was done!

Most fun - two weeks ago:

Dang Scott, You've got to get out in the sun more often

Just call me pasty.

I spend a fair amount of time outside in the summer but unlike days gone by I no longer let the sun bake me.

Older and a little wiser I suppose.

Slowly but surely turning into my dad - which ain't a bad thing.
Eyes and hairline are diminishing right along too.

I would have to say the most "fun" deer was my first muley with the bow in the ND badlands. It was just a spike but it was an awesome hunt!
I don't have pics of it on the computer though.

Next most fun and memorable, due to it being my largest deer and had a lot of sentimental reasons behind it, was this one:








I had just lost my best friend in a plane crash at the end of June that year. He, his boy and myself have all scored on bucks from the same tree stand in the past. This particular year my buddy's boy shot a dandy with his Dad's new bow that he never got a chance to use. I then got this one out of the same tree 2 weeks later.

It kind of felt like someone was helping us out in the luck department.

[img]https://fbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd....02744149259923_2434837338129661081_n.jpg [/img]

Just a few hanging around our Home.

Here's mine--some back ground: My younger daughter was 26 years old and had finally graduated from college after a checkered academic career. She had a real job and had ditched her no-good boyfriend of several years. She called me and said that she wanted to hunt with me that fall--it had been a few years since we had hunted together.

This buck was glassed up on the third day at about 900 yards, just as the sun was getting ready to go behind the mountains to the west. We had a flat on the Jeep and I was changing it. My wife found the deer in the spotting scope, bedded with a bunch of about eight bucks. She told me to take Donelle and get the deer and that she would finish changing the tire.

We took off back down the slope until we were on the far side of the ridge where the bucks were bedded and then hustled up the back side of the ridge. My daughter had been smoking for several years and the tobacco habit and the elevation were getting to her pretty badly as we climbed. We stopped at what I estimated was about 200 yards below the deer and peeked over the ridge. They were still there.

I pointed to a rocky outcrop about halfway up to where they were and we dropped back down and worked our way up to the rocks. I whispered, "As soon as you see the deer, take a rest on a big rock and shoot the biggest one." It worked like a charm. We poked our heads up over the rocks and the deer were still bedded about 70 yards away. She dropped to her knees and rested her forearm on one of the boulders as the deer got to their feet. The big one had just got his feet under him when she shot. He went right back down.

It was getting pretty dark when my wife finally got up there with the camera and the battery gave out after one flash shot. It remains the best planned and executed stalk that I can remember.

Great story and great buck! Was that in New Mexico?

Yes. In the north end of the Animas range. Thanks for the kind words.

Mudhen,
Great story and memory!

Largest buck I've killed was the second day of bow season, had seen him two days before the season opened with two similar sized bucks. I shot him late int he afternoon and then waited an hour to start tracking, it took til midnight to track him down as he'd run more than a mile through some thick swamps. Started to drag him out and discovered he was laying on a yellow jacket nest. Since I'm allergic I had to go back to the car and rig up a suit with rain jackets, trash bags, and duct tape before I could go back and move him off the nest. Got to bed around dawn.

Last year, Lorelei never showed up. I guess this is as good a time to write her farewell. This all started back in 2010, and lasted until 2012. I'm still a little hazy on the start of it. I do remember spooking a doe early in 2010 on my way to my stand. She came back after sunrise and searched for me. That might have been my first meeting with her.

Over time, Lorelei got to patterning me. When I would get into my ladder stand at Campground, she would show up and play a hide-and-seek game with me. She would appear from a variety of directions, and stand behind a tree with her butt and her head sticking out and snort at me and then take off. Later, this evolved into coming right to my stand.

Then the really freaky stuff started. On one occasion, she came by my stand at a pretty fast clip. She stopped. Looked back, and then took off again. A short time later an 8-pointer showed up. I shot him. She came back, saw the dead buck and looked back at me and snorted wildly while hopping back and forth in . . . I'm not sure now if it was fear, glee, or what.

After she cleared out, I came down from the stand. The buck had piled up in some weeds and I missed him the first time through. I spent a half-hour combing the woods for him only to find him piled up in the fence line, right where I shot him. I called for the truck, dragged him out, and then went back for my gear at the stand. The doe was bedded next to my duffle bag and gear.

By the next season, I had her named. 'Lorelei' comes from a German drinking song, Der alte Dessauer

[video:youtube]t7Vme9jUhlo[/video]



This was one of the tunes I had for getting folks up in the morning at deer camp that year.

She kept visiting me through 2012. The last time I saw her, Angus and I were hunting the Midway ground blind on the last weeken of rifle season. She led a small 6-point buck to us. As I remember, she came to visit me at Campground, and I saw her checking for me in the binos. She then disappeared and showed up at Midway, crossed in front of Angus who was hunting the North side. Then she came round the south side where I was sitting and stuck her head in the window. The 6-pointer was a few feet behind. After making nearly a complete circle around the blind she wandered out into the field with the buck in tow.

Angus and I discussed taking the buck, but figured it was better to go in empty handed and let him grow up a bit. That was the last time we saw deer that year, and we both ate tag soup.

Now that is a fun story.

My funnest deer hunt involved my wife. Up until we got married her big game harvest was limited too whitetail does. This took place the first year we were married. I wanted her to get a buck real bad, so I took her up on a pretty high mountain that usually has a few mule deer running around. I figured a young mule deer would give her a pretty good opportunity, 2 weeks prior she had buggered up her knee pretty bad. Anyways, we headed up the mountain on the 4-wheeler right at day light. The first few spots we stopped and glassed produced nothing. We were headed up to the top of the mountain, there are some big rock slides up there with thick brush/timber all around. We came around the corner and up this big timbered draw there was her buck giving a big doe the "hey baby" look. Got the wife off the 4-wheeler and she hobbled over a few feet to where she had a clear shot. Boom, the buck took off from a clean miss. She was pretty bummed out. I told her everyone misses sometimes, and she would do better next time. At this point it had been 2 or 3 minutes since the buck had run off. Just then he came sneeking back in. This time when her 300 barked he hunched up and took off. She was shaking and smiling so much she had to sit down for 5 minutes before we could go get him. When she had settled down enough we found him about 50 feet away, perfect lung shot. That big grin on her face didn't go away for 3 or 4 days.

Oh and that little mulie buck was a 2x4 with 2 acorns on the 4 side and the 2 side has a big kink in it.

Mine happened up at camp in Pennsylvania. Our mountain back behind camp rises out of the bottom and there are a series of benches that run across the face of the hill. I have a stand on the lip of the first bench. Good trails in every direction. Normally the deer are either coming up the hill from below, or running down off the top when they bump into other hunters. I've got hollow to my left with a little spine running up towards me that the deer climb, a trail to my right that's been used for so many years, it's pounded into the mud about 6 inches deep as it comes up through the laurel patches, and there's 3 trails up the hill from me crossing the bench. I watch this small deer come up the hill threading it's way towards the laurel on my right. Never made horns until it hit the laurel. I keep waiting for it to step out from the cover and it never does. I'm figuring it turned and walked away, or maybe bedded down in the thick stuff. Now I'm thinking...pitch a rock over there and see if it stands up, or what? I don't want to give my self away, so I figure I'll just sit tight. Maybe if a doe walks up, he'll get up and follow her, if he's bedded down over there. 20 minutes later, here comes an old doe up the same trail. Sure enough, the little forkhorn stands up to chase. One clean shot,but I totally lost the sight picture. Knew I hit him, 'cause I saw him flinch when I shot. Now the search begins. Went to where I shot and found nothing. No hair, no blood, no scuffed up leaves, nothing. I went back to the stand three times to verify I was looking in the right spot. By then, my brother shows up. We found him about 10 feet from where I was looking. He crumpled in a low spot on a logging trail going up the hill. My brother darned near stepped on him before he saw him.

Another fun one was my first flintlock deer. Pa. law dictates that ML's used during primitive weapons seasons must be flintlocks. I took a doe shortly after Christmas one year. It was an absolute ball. Those flinters are a whole different kind of gun and very challenging. Everyone should try it once. It's very addicting.

My most funnest deer was with my children on opening weekend. I was divorcing at the time and during the "interim" phase I could only see them once or twice a month. I was able to get them that weekend and I thought it would be a good chance to burn up a doe tag with them.

We drove to a place we had never hunted. Knocked on the door and got permission and were told where to go. As we drove down into a big coulee, we spotted a herd of mule deer and I pressed on the brakes, put it in reverse and backed out of the coulee.

I told my kids to quietly exit the vehicle and leave all the doors open. They did.

We low crawled (side by side) toward the edge of the coulee and juuuust as we reached the edge, the herd spooked and hauled ass up the opposite side.

One doe paused and looked back when she reached the top. I guessed her at around 200 and held accordingly. I remember actually being a little nervous due to the four eyes I had burning holes through that deer in anticipation of what was about to happen. If ever there was a time I didn't want to miss, it was now.

At the break of the shot the doe folded up and rolled all the way to the bottom of the coulee. Both my kids jumped up and yelled in excitement. There were cheers and high fives and "good job dads" going every which way.

At that moment in time I truly was a "great white hunter" due to my kid's affirmations.

We drove as close as we could, went down and gutted her. The kids played with hearts and blood and had one helluva a good time in general.

After it was cleaned my son grabbed one leg, I grabbed the other, and up the coulee we sprinted. My daughter had not been expecting this and we (unfortunately)looked down into the coulee and she was sobbing her savage little heart out. I ran back down to assure her we weren't going anywhere and her tears dried right up. Held her hand and walked her ass up to the top and our day was done.

We had it bagged and tagged and were headed home before 0900 if memory serves.

It was not "their" first deer, but they were so involved in the entire process that in some weird way, it was and (in my mind) probably always will be. A truly great morning.




Travis

Cool story! Is that a yellow rifle?

Yes sir.


50/50 yellow and black. I stole the pattern from Steelhead.





Travis

Hayward?

Does it ever get windy out there?

Love this pic! Especially the little Blondie girl doing the thumbs up. That is phuggin awesome

Thanks Rooster. One of my all time favorite pics.



Travis

I read the thread title wrong. I thought it was Funniest deer.


Here's two of my funniest. To me, they're all fun.

Matching color muzzle tape! Very important and must have taken some research finding it. Nice!

Bob

The funnest deer I've shot was without a doubt the doe I shot last fall. My son was with me and was VERY excited!

There are a few second place deer, but they're distant.

I think the funnest deer for me was a doe that I didn't even shoot. It was shot by a kid sitting on my knee. His first deer.

I was at a friend's ranch and the kid really wanted to shoot a deer. I happened to have an extra rifle with me in .243. The kid had never even shot a rifle before, so the ranch owner says if he can hit a target at 100yds three times, "you take him out and you make the call."

That kid hit the bullseye three outa three.

I sat in a blind with him and soon, about five does showed up 200yds out. He got so excited and wanted to have a crack at one. I made him wait till they were about 80yds away and told him where to aim.

He placed the shot perfectly. Doe went strait down. I'll never forget how excited and proud he was. Best feeling ever.

Probobly a doe I shot in ky. It was the early black powder season several years back, I had been out for a few hours and my dad came to meet me so we could do a mini drive. He met me at the top of this big ridge over looking some pasture and we were talking and he pointed across the field there were three does feeding out I ranged em at 250yards. No way I was able to make that shot from there and the only way to get in range was drop off the back of the ridge and come up behind em. Dad stayed up there watching as I made my way down and when I got in the edge of the field I started crawling threw tall grass and briers! I made my way slowly up over the rise and saw two of them. I looked threw my range finder and it said 132 yards. I raised the rem 700ML and fired at the closest one. It rolled down to the bottom of the hill jumped up and ran back up to the top and fell dead. That was the hardest I've ever had to try to get a shot off which made it special.

Deer are loosing there velvet.
[img]http://scontent-b-sea.xx.fbcdn.net/...475590e996c380357d600a74&oe=5479175A[/img]

[img]http://fbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.n...5395015_436bdcf22fedb16f5e5b586b0a844ad8[/img]

It would have to be my boys first deer. The funny part is I can't remember mine own.

That would be this one with my middle son. The first down from what would become my three boys with this one coming with a hog just hours later. He used his Ruger RSI 243 and the 95 gr Partition over IMR 4350 that he owns and shoots today 16 years later. This outside of Camp Wood on a now deceased friend's ranch.

I have a couple of really fun hunts.

A few years ago I was asked to guide the wife of a hunter we had at the ranch I hunt. She is a little thing, barely topping 5 feet tall and about 85 pounds dripping wet.
We started out looking for an Axis buck and put the stalk on some but they slipped into a different pasture. We set up on them 4 different times and each time they turned away from us and headed away. The last one she would have been taking a shot at about 200 yards when they slipped through the fence into another pasture that another hunter was in.
I remembered that I had seen a herd of Red Sheep come out on a powerline right of way about 10 AM the week before and thought we might glass the area from a distance.
Almost like clock-work at 10:10 I look up and there they are - 5 ewes, 2 young rams and the big boy - a 30" near-full curl ram.
We first moved into the trees and brush to get out of their sight even though we were some 800 yards away. We crossed one fence on our property to the pasture they were in and worked our way up. It took us nearly an hour to catch up to them by looping around and keeping them in sight and finally get into position. I finally got her sitting down with a small tree for a rest about 30 yards from the right of way. Just as she got set a ewe walked into the 6' wide shooting lane she had about 40 yards out. The ram followed and finally gave her a shot. She hit the ram behind the front leg and he took off.
She was worried that we might not find the ram and since I couldn't see the shot from where I was sitting, I had her talk me to where the ram was standing when she shot. I found the tracks and called her up to me and we started to trail it. About 20 yards down we found the first blood sign - a strip of blood about 2' long. I told her the ram was down and it was just a matter of following the trail. We tracked onward and about 50 yards later found the ram down and done for. I pointed it out to her and she squealed like a little girl getting a pony and the next thing I knew I had this 85 pound Mom wrapped around me squealing in my ear.


The second hunt that was a blast was one of the last one's I went on with my Dad. We hunted a ranch in Llano County - the pink granite country of the Texas Hill Country. We sat up on a hill we called 'The Mountain' and mainly just talked about things. About 8:00 a cull-spike came out about 300 yards out. My 85 year old Dad took a rest and pulled off a head-shot. DRT.

We didn't really want to go back to camp just yet so we just sat there and kept talking. About 30 minutes later, out comes another cull-spike about 10 yards from the first one. I told Dad 'betcha can't do that head-shot again!'. yep, nailed it.

Somewhere in a box I have a picture of him with those two spikes. Great time and a great memory with my Dad. A year later he passed away.

Thanks for teaching me the love of hunting and the outdoors Dad!

R man -

1 of my most fun hunts involves my youngest son, of course. Long story short. We had taken 5 gallon buckets of acorns from our yard and poured them out in an area no one was hunting on our lease.

The deer immediately began feeding on them faster than we could bring them down. I showed Jeff how to slip into the area and where to sit on the ground. No one had ever had hunted that spot AFAIK.

About 8 AM I heard him shoot his MZLDR. No worriers, there was a dim road I could drive and pick up the deer.

WELL the exuberance of youth kicked in and he would walk ahead and put his gun against a tree and go back and DRAG this 6 pt. to where his gun was. He repeated this many Xs till he got to the intersection of the dim road and a well used TAR.

He was exasperated when I told him I could have driven w/in 45 yds of where the deer was. LOL

Also the next time we went down, he showed me the spot where the buck was. I noticed a skint <G> spot on a tree right there. I looked close and found the mushroomed bullet. A neat trophy AFAIC (as far as I'm concerned).

All of my most FUN hunts are while 'stalking' in regrowth cutovers. You NEVER know where/when a deer will jump up or take off. You are on edge in anticipation of the appearance of then judging immediately if you want to shoot or not.

When my son was a young lad he came to me one day and asked: "why do you keep that small buck rack tacked inside the garage wall?"

I told him it was because of a weird and funny experience with the deer.

During a Wisconsin deer drive I dropped standers off along a country road and parked my truck and moved east of the road with the rest of the standers until we got to the edge of a marsh.

Soon, deer pushed by the drivers began emerging from the woods and cross the open marsh towards us. A small buck and two does came within range like a prison break. I put the Savage 99 Lyman 57 sight on his shoulder and his front end dropped and he bulldozed a few feet and got up and ran into the small strip of woods along the road. A few seconds later I heard a crash, but did not sound like brush.

When the drivers emerged from the woods I followed up the blood trail of about 40-50 paces. The goofy deer was in the bed of my old 1947 Ford, expired. I had parked my truck close to a high, brushy sand bank which the deer sailed off of.

I began picking up drivers, standers and deer and they thought I had loaded the buck and made up a story. I showed them blood and deer hair on top of a side rack, plus horn or hoof skid marks on the truck bed hoping to back up my story.

My son eventually used the rack for a woodworking project in Boy Scouts.



Buck catcher/hauler

Skane,
Nice bucks in your neighborhood. One of the guys I work with lives in a lake side development in a similar situation has deer coming around his home.

He said they can't resist corn tortillas, they will come to them with their mouths drooling and take it from his hand.

roundoak -

Neat and funny story. I don't doubt it.

Scared or wounded deer do some dumb/funny STUFF.

Have a goodun!

It is cool how many of these stories involve our sons and daughters.

Mine is my son's last deer before he went off to college, and we knew it would be a long time before he would get the chance to hunt again.

We were hunting a deep canyon with the rising sun at our back; it made every deer super visible. We spotted this one maybe 1500 yards downslope and made a quick sneak. He made a one-shot DRT kill with my .257 WBY from about 325 yards.



He seriously violated the family policy about shooting deer below the road. If you blow this picture up you might be able to see the white Chevy pickup in the saddle--that is where we started ( and had to get back to.) The photo was taken from where the buck laid.


My son is now 25, working on a cure for Parkinson's disease for his Ph.D. research at some fancy school back east. As we, predicted, he has not had the chance to do any big game hunting since this hunt. But he was out visiting just the week before last, and he remembers it like it was yesterday.

Utah -

Great story & pic.

Yeah, I can see the fuzzy white truck > grin.

Wow! did y'all drag or pack him out.

I knowwhatyamean... I quit hunting DOWN hill, unless I can get a 4 wheeler in there.

We hung him overnight and took out the pieces the next day. There was another road that cut the vertical considerably.

Good for ya!

What a relief......

Wayne,
Awesome story - thanks for sharing.

Ex-wife story: Hunting in Idaho in the late 80's in late whitetail season.

She is out to kill her first deer in years, and I am helping her. However, it's been on of those days, one of us would see a deer, the other wouldn't, and couldn't get a shot by either person. The deer droppings were still steaming in the snow, no sign of the deer in the clear cuts, and no binos to glass with. We had hunted from daylight to late afternoon in wet snow, freezing rain, and it was getting colder, and the complaint factor was getting louder.

We jumped several does and yearlings crossing the forest service road as we started driving out, and I went up the road bank into the timber with a 30-30. She was supposed wait off of the roadside with her rifle, and see if I flushed any out of the woods into the clear cut.

As luck would have it, I jumped a big doe out of the bush at about 15-20 feet, she ran right by me in the direction of the truck. I had a clear close and shot, shouldered the rifle, hammer back...click! Forgot to chamber a round out of the truck and after climbing the road bank. I hollared to the ex, no answer. So, headed back down to the road, to find her in the truck-too cold to hunt, and new deer tracks 20 feet behind the rear bumper...sigh.

After a brief and tense discussion, we decided to drive back to an access trail a few hundred yards behind us and walk for a bit to see if any more were moving in the area. I made sure we both chambered a round, and we headed up an old skid trail. She has a Mini-14, I have the 30-30. About 2-300 yards in, a buck and two does jump up 50-75 yards across a small ravine, and starting running down hill. It's an open shot, and the deer are moving slow, not in high gear. She pulls down on one, click, the bolt failed to strip a round, or it was short stroked with she worked the action. So, she's fumbling with the bolt, working the safety, and the three deer are about to disappear into the brush. I watch for another second or two, then throw up the 30-30 and touch one off at the buck. As I fire he drops his head and leaps up and over a log. He disappears behind a large willow bush as he lands, it's a snap shot, and I'm thinking I missed him clean, but we need to go over and check. Next think I know, she snaps the safety on, throws her rifle down, and annouces: "You SOB, you shot MY deer!" Huh!?!?

What I couldn't see, and she could from her angle, the buck had tumbled at the shot, and went tail over teakettle behind the bush. I have seen none of this and I'm trying to calm her down while she's cussing me up one side and down the other. After a few minutes of using my butt for a chew-toy, she's down a low boil, and we walk over to the other side of the ravine.

Sure enough, the buck is there, flipped upside down, dead as can be, a bullet through the head around the eye level. I had lead him way more than needed, but his head duck had worked in my favor. So, my first buck down was a moving head shot, dumb chit luck, and royally POed the "soon to be" EX.

My funnest deer was the 8-point who did a hilarious Robin Williams-like routine at the Comedy Store one night. You gotta like a deer who isn't too full of himself!

The funnest deer is always your child's first or your friend's first, isn't it?

Thank God for whitetail deer.

Roundoak, that is a great story!

My funnest is definitely my boy's first buck:

I had hunted the early muzzleloader season and called in a real giant of a 6 pointer during the pre-rut chase. I climbed down from my stand and walked to the deer. I was leaning against an oak tree admiring the deer when I heard leaves rustling in the beat of deer obviously trotting toward me. As I sat there with my dead buck, a doe comes trotting by at 20 yards with a really nice 8 pointer in tow. I had my rifle shoulder and was ready to shoot the buck (perfectly legal) when something told me not to. So I lowered my gun and watched the buck and doe which were now just standing and staring at me. Of course, when I lowered my rifle, they took off. I noticed that the buck had a broken G2 a little over halfway up the tine.

2 weeks later, during rifle season, I have my son with me in a stand about a quarter mile from where I shot my buck. My son was 12 years old at the time. I had chosen to hunt the stand due to the fact it was near a large bedding area and had room for 2. Acorns were scarce and a large Red Oak was dropping some mast close to the stand, so I figured it would be a decent spot. At about 4pm, I told my son that he better get quiet and keep an eye out. No sooner than I told him this, that same 8 pointer I had let walk during muzzleloader season came working over the ridge. My son stood with his Model 7 260 and waited for the deer to give him a shot. That deer walked right into an opening and started eating acorns. I was concerned because the stand was shaking. I looked down and the boy's knees were knocking-- serious buck fever. I calmed him by whispering to take his time and put the crosshairs on the bucks shoulder. About the time I finished whispering the gun went off and the deer crumbled.

I've had a bunch of fun deer hunts with my son, but that one will always remain the most memorable.

[img]https://fbcdn-sphotos-e-a.akamaihd....5803366_e6f11ccd64454f843941efd57cb6e127[/img]
Finally got a picture of the twin bucks together today.

18 or so years ago, I was sitting on a friends property, he lived in a subdivision that had 15 acre lots, and modest homes. His yard backed up to a horse farm, and the back 5 acres were wooded. He had a blind set up so any shot fired from it went into the hillside, so no danger there. His wooded area also was the travel route from bedding to feed for the local deer herd. Anyway, it was muzzleloader season, and I had a CVA .54 Hawken with me. Right at legal shooting light, I saw a buck walk by at about 35 yards. Sure enough, it was too dark to see the sights well, so as he walked past, I grunted a little. He came back in to look for the deer. we did this a couple times, until he gave me the shot, and I could see the sights. Not as well as I thought, because I missed the 45 yard shot through brush. As I reloaded and he headed out, I grunted again. He turned around and came to look for the deer. By this time I was loaded and ready, so I shot, and he ran off about 50 more yards. I could see him breathing hard and walking oddly. I grunted again, and he started walking back in again while I reloaded. at 30 yards, I shot again and put him down. While the first shot was a miss, the other two hit within an inch of each other, the first hit taking out lungs, the second heart. I just lucked out that he wasn't real bright, or was desperate for contact, because I grunted him in several times, twice after he'd been shot at. strange.