75 years ago, when I was a baby, my dad got a deer with a rock. We were on a ranch in SE Oregon where Dad was a ranch hand and Mom was teaching in a 1 room school. One lazy Sunday afternoon when everyone was off work, Dad had walked down to the creek and saw a forky standing in the water. Dad had played baseball on a town team and had a very good arm. He threw a rock at it and it dodged it but didn't run. Dad threw a couple more and the deer kept dodging them, but still stood there. Then something distracted it and it looked to the side. Dad pitched another one and hit it in the side of the head, cold conking it. He didn't have a gun or even a knife so he dragged it to a fence and tied it to a post with his belt. Then he walked back to the ranch for a knife and gun. He told the other men that he had a deer tied to a post and they all laughed but several did follow him back to the creek. By this time the deer was awake and struggling. Dad shot it and dressed it and had lots of help dragging it back to the ranch.
“In a time of deceit telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” ― George Orwell
It's not over when you lose. It's over when you quit.
