It was Opening Day in Missouri and my friend Mike Harmon and I were hunting a nice fairly large piece of property fairly close to where we lived. An older couple that we knew owned it and had lived on it until they got to the age where they needed to be in town. The property had a lot of hills and gullies and the trees were pretty thick. There were a lot of deer on the place and we had permission from the owners to hunt there when ever we wished.

Mike was using his 1894 Marlin .357 and I was carrying a Freedom Arms .475 Linebaugh. Freedom Arms had sent me the gun to use for a couple articles I was writing for publication. The ammo was handloaded by me and I had previously tested it in my own .475. The bullet was a light one for the big gun, weighing roughly 350 grains and was a “WFN” .. Wide Flat Nose cast from an LBT mold … and looking nearly like a full wadcutter. I was driving it pretty fast and the shooting I had done with it proved it plenty accurate and flat-shooting to the ranges I would encounter in these woods.

The only thing that bothered me some was the revolver had a scope on it. I know folks like them but I never did care much for a scope on a revolver. The good thing about it was it did tame the recoil of the .475 a bit.

Mike and I moved through the woods about 50 yards apart and each of us keeping track of where the other was. He was to my right and above me on the hillside. As we came to a gully that ran left and right in front of me I heard some deer break out in front of Mike. As they ran I heard Mike's rifle go off and I moved on down into the gully. As I did I saw the deer run up the bank away from Mike. A nice doe stopped in front of me maybe 40 yards away. I had the scope on her and as she stopped I touched it off. Past the recoiling gun I saw her jump straight ahead behind some trees but she never reappeared. Mike and I called to each other and then he came down to where I was, dragging a buck. His shot had taken it in the left side back in the ribs and ranged forward toward the right shoulder. It dropped when he hit it.

I climbed the hill where the doe had been standing when I shot her and found her laying in the leaves about 10 feet from where she had stood. There was a massive hole in her right shoulder. The shot had been uphill and gone in low on the left side and exited the middle of the right shoulder, blowing a hole that you could lay a golf ball in and it would not touch the sides of the wound.

The rest was anti-climactic. I was able to get the 4WD truck fairly close. We loaded the deer, took some photos and then hauled them to the processor. It was a great start to a good season of harvesting deer.

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Ele era velho.
Ele era corajoso.
Ele era feio.