Saturday 9/29 was opening day for deer here in Oregon. I was hunting mule deer with my dad south of Bend. I carried my new to me Browning repro 348 with factory sights, loaded with gordylew's 200 grain Silvertips. Right at first light a nice buck got kicked up by another hunter. As luck (or preparation) would have it, the buck ran by me, stopped when he saw me, then took off up a hill thick with reprod. I thumbed the hammer back and waited for a chance. The reprod was thick so all I could see was flashes of white rump as he bounded up the hill. I kept the gold bead on him as much as I could, hoping for a shot. At 120 yards (GPS) he entered a small opening, turned sideways, and stopped to look back. The gold bead obscured his chest but I had practiced. At the shot he disappeared but I heard the unique sound of hard-hit animal going down. You know, the echoing sound of uncontrolled movement into trees, the sharp Knock! a buck or bull makes when he hits immobile wood.
I marked the spot where he stood when I shot and called my dad over to help me navigate. When I got to the the spot I saw a bright spray of blood covering the bitterbrush. I called my dad up to join me. Less than 15 feet away, tangled in the reprod, lay my buck. My 25th anniversary buck, to be exact, 25 years after I shot my first buck, also a mulie, also on opening day, also hunting with my dad.
The Silvertip caught him on the point of his left shoulder and exited at the right side base of his neck. An excellent hunt with the special magic of sharing it with my dad. Here's to you, dad, because you taught me how.
And here's me:
And another:
I suppose I should thank all of you who helped me with my levergun addiction as well.
Shoot straight!
Quinn
