My best shot came the only time I ever got myself a whitetail. I was in N. Georgia. I was hunting in a stand on the edge of a big (200 yard across) clearing, and was about 15 feet into the wood line. From my right, a nice, juicy, 9 point buck puts his head between the bottom and middle row of barbed wire fence about 20 feet from my tree. He stopped with his head only through the fence and looked right up at me. It was cold and I started breathing through the left side of my mouth so he couldn't see the frost that was shooting out with each breath. He came on through the fence and headed from my 4 o'clock to my 11 o'clock. He was so close that he was just a blur in the scope. I couldn't get to him that way, so I cranked the rifle to my off (left) hand and shot him using the iron sights. Dropped him deader'n a door nail right in his tracks.
When I was a kid me and a buddy were shooting .22's at an illegal dump site, shooting whatever we could find. My buddy setup a beer bottle on top of an old TV and said "Betcha I can hit that" from about 100 yards. He shoots and misses. I take a shot at it and take the top off, leaving a little shard of the base sitting there. He says "Ok, I betcha I can hit that piece" he shoots and misses again. I took aim and sent it flying. Boy was he pissed.
Me and my buddy were having a shooting contest. 1st we used my sig P220 and were popping off rounds at paper from about 25 yards. He got ticked because i was blowing him away and was claiming it was due to me being used to the gun. I told him we could use any gun that he had for the next round. We used his winchester 94 30-30 and put a tennis ball on a rope about 50 or so yards away hanging from a big tree branch. Put a nice hole in the ball and knocked it down with the first round and made him eat his words.
Might as well throw in another one:
I bought my first cap and ball revolver at the Otasco store in Lawton. It was a kit, and needed a LOT of work. Grips were way oversized, brass was straight from the mold. Anyway, the next morning was opening day of deer season. I took the revolver with me, down to Cache Creek at the end of Flower Mound road. A family friend owned the land at that time. I parked my car, loaded the revolver, grabbed my rifle and headed for the woods. Something caught my eye, and about 10 yards in front of me was a huge, hollowed out cottonwood log, about 6 feet long. On the other side was a fox squirrel. "What the heck?" thought I, so I drew a bead on his head, almost touched the shot off and remembered these guns were notorious for shooting way high. I lowered until I could no longer see the front bead and fired. Squirrel disappeard. Bullet went in one ear and out the other. I don't think I ever hit anything else with that gun. It blew up on me a few weeks later.
My father-in-law, when I told him about the squirrel, asked if I saved the head, so he could eat the brain. "Ain't none left."
I bought my first cap and ball revolver at the Otasco store in Lawton. It was a kit, and needed a LOT of work. Grips were way oversized, brass was straight from the mold. Anyway, the next morning was opening day of deer season. I took the revolver with me, down to Cache Creek at the end of Flower Mound road. A family friend owned the land at that time. I parked my car, loaded the revolver, grabbed my rifle and headed for the woods. Something caught my eye, and about 10 yards in front of me was a huge, hollowed out cottonwood log, about 6 feet long. On the other side was a fox squirrel. "What the heck?" thought I, so I drew a bead on his head, almost touched the shot off and remembered these guns were notorious for shooting way high. I lowered until I could no longer see the front bead and fired. Squirrel disappeard. Bullet went in one ear and out the other. I don't think I ever hit anything else with that gun. It blew up on me a few weeks later.
My father-in-law, when I told him about the squirrel, asked if I saved the head, so he could eat the brain. "Ain't none left."
I thought my Granny was the only one who like the head of a squirrel. Brings back memories.
My father-in-law, when I told him about the squirrel, asked if I saved the head, so he could eat the brain. "Ain't none left."[/QUOTE]
This is off topic, but important. There is a form of mad cow disease in North America. Very rare, but every victim has eaten squirrel brains before getting sick.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creutzfeldt–Jakob_disease
http://www.nytimes.com/1997/08/29/u...against-a-regional-dish-squirrels-brains.html
http://www.greysquirrel.net/brain.html
Haven't found any indication our Oklahoma reds carry the problem, but I'd rather err on the side of caution.
This is off topic, but important. There is a form of mad cow disease in North America. Very rare, but every victim has eaten squirrel brains before getting sick.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creutzfeldt–Jakob_disease
http://www.nytimes.com/1997/08/29/u...against-a-regional-dish-squirrels-brains.html
http://www.greysquirrel.net/brain.html
Haven't found any indication our Oklahoma reds carry the problem, but I'd rather err on the side of caution.
Back around 1972 I was living in Spartanburg,SC.. I went out shooting with some friends at a local river . There was a group of people upstream of us throwing bottles in and shooting them. They had to be at least 200 yds. from us. They threw a bottle in and fired several shots missing the bottle. I took aim with my Marlin model 60 and sunk their bottle with one shot from over 100yds. They all turned and looked my way. I was more surprised than they were. It was just luck.
