I shot a doe at . . . well, here's the thing. I'm not really sure how close. Opening Day, I'd gotten up to pay the rent on the coffee and realized there was a nice fat stump close by. I sat down. It was about 10 AM. I'd seen nothing, and somebody had sent me one of these new-fangled grunt calls to try. I took it out and gave it a blow. There was a line of cedars just to my right, uphill. Suddenly it erupted. Half-a-dozen deer swarmed out of the cedars and came down the hill straight at me. One was a 4-point buck. I brought my Rem 742 up and. . .
I saw a flash of brown in my scope just as I touched it off. It turned out a small doe had crossed in front of me just as I took the shot. The buck was about 20 yards out. I looked up and saw the bullet popping out from between the doe's shoulder blades in slow motion. She collapsed less than 10 yards from me. As I was collecting my gear I found a fresh deer track between my boot tracks where I'd been sitting on the stump.
