Back in 2000, my Uncle Dan passed at the age of 46 (cancer sucks), he was my Dad's younger (and only) brother. In the wake of his death, Dad handed me his Remington 700 BDL .243 and his words were "Cherish it". I've kept it in the safe since, cleaning it once in a while and keeping it in the best condition. This year, I decided to work up a good handload for it, and finally take a deer with it. Not just any deer though, my Uncle never took a real nice buck, the one nice one he shot, he lost. I wanted to take nothing less than an 8 point, and after I seen this one on my trail cam, I decided this was the one I was going to hunt this year, with his rifle.
Well, yesterday morning, I was sitting on watch, and heard a 'twang" sound from behind some buck brush, across the creek I was watching.. He had jumped a fence, and about 10 seconds after he tripped the fence wire, he came trotting in front of me at about 65 yards away. I stood up, took aim and double lunged him with a 95 grain Match King. I heard the round snap as it hit him hard, but he kept trotting, for about 40 yards. As I walked around another tree, about 20 yards from my watch, I seen him, standing still in the creek bottom. He was dying on his feet, but he wasn't down, so I took aim, and put one more in him, again, through both lungs. He walked about 10 yards, and passed out, falling in the grass.
I have to think my Uncle was looking down with a smile on his face, seeing his rifle finally take a nice buck. I got home with him, and Dad's eyes were watering, so were Mom's. Great end to a great hunt...
Well, yesterday morning, I was sitting on watch, and heard a 'twang" sound from behind some buck brush, across the creek I was watching.. He had jumped a fence, and about 10 seconds after he tripped the fence wire, he came trotting in front of me at about 65 yards away. I stood up, took aim and double lunged him with a 95 grain Match King. I heard the round snap as it hit him hard, but he kept trotting, for about 40 yards. As I walked around another tree, about 20 yards from my watch, I seen him, standing still in the creek bottom. He was dying on his feet, but he wasn't down, so I took aim, and put one more in him, again, through both lungs. He walked about 10 yards, and passed out, falling in the grass.
I have to think my Uncle was looking down with a smile on his face, seeing his rifle finally take a nice buck. I got home with him, and Dad's eyes were watering, so were Mom's. Great end to a great hunt...
