Colorado Rockies and not very high.....about 8,600 ft. ASL. The last 5 minutes of legal shooting light on the last day of Muley Season. We low crawl to the edge of a 200 ft. cliff and peer over the edge into a meadow that starts about 500 yards from the base of the cliff. A herd of Mulies is gathered up near the middle of the meadow with several bucks in plain view. My eyes are drawn to a MONSTER 5x5 that Doc ranges at 720 yards with the Vector IV. As we all lay prone in the howling wind trying to not silhouette ourselves on the ridgeline, I feed the 30 Wolf round into the chamber and close the bolt. The light is low, heavy cloud cover, no mirage, and frozen rock and snow as far as the eye can see, I am truly struggling to gauge the wind and time is running out. I just don't have the humility to let that buck get away without a shot, and there is zero time left to get closer. I guesstimate the wind at 35 mph full value from right to left, and the buck is facing to my right giving me a squared up broadside shot. I am waiting for the does behind him to clear and I hold 7 MOA to the right of his chest, into the Wind and a Minute low for the vertical component and slight inclination (7 degrees). The last doe finally clears, and I break the shot......

The awsome brake and the ice in the meadow give me the most spectacular view of the shot impact. The bullet shattered a chunk of ice no less than 4 feet behind the Bucks rump and at least two feet high of my intended point of impact. Not only did I miss an animal inside 1,000 yards, I missed him by a mile!

The actual drift of the bullet was like 12 to 14 ft. at 720 Yards! The computers say over 60 MPH of wind speed!!!!!!!!!!!........almost 3 ft. of vertical component!!!!!!!!!

Having spent some time out in the breeze on a superbike at places like Road Atlanta and Daytona, 60 mph is probably a conservative estimate for the gusts we were getting that evening. I was over my head and up a creek without a wind meter. And yes Doc was there to witness the whole debacle from beginning to end. Thank goodness the video camera was in the truck.


It is hard for someone like me to admit it, but there are conditions that you just should not shoot.

S-1 this will have nothing to do with long range hunting but it is still my worst shot. It is qualification day at the range in the Marine Corps. I have been shooting expert all week. It is also the morning after my 21st birhday party. My confidence is high and so is my blood alcohol content. I am in the off-hand and I hear the range master over the loud speeaker. "Target five you are hitting the the dirt in front of your lane." I did this several times and began to realize that my young marine career was flashing before my eyes. I could be busted down and booted out of the Corps for being so stupid. I would have no one to blame but myself. The range master came over and talked to my shooting coach. I don't know what he said to him but it did not look good for me. The shooting coach came up to me and said "Happy Birthday Marine, It would be in your best interest not to miss again, you better qualify." I looked back at the salty range master and he just gave a grin like my ass was grass if I did not do just that. Thank God, I qualified.

If a bow counts, I'll play---------

Taught a markmanship class for the public school district decades ago, we used Benjamen 22. cal. pump up pellet rifles for the class. Had a bunch of 5th and 6th graders for students doing the summer school/day care stint. On the last day of class we had a shoot off with small plaques to honor the achievers. I shot with the boys and told them if any outscored me I would take them deer hunting this fall with parent approval. Sure enough one little tike shot the center out of the target, and his dad was an Army sgt., and gave him the go ahead to bowhunt with me. Had a two person stand made of wood that resembled the old tree forts we built as a kid with 3 sides closed off and one side open. First morning I helped peewee into the stand and then climbed in with my recurve on my back. Back then the compound bow had not been invented yet.

Not 15 minutes after daylight a couple of does came right our way headed out of the bean field towards the creek, and not 50 yards behind them was a really nice 10 pointer. The little guy was so excited he could hardly hold still. This was my chance to demonstrate real marksmanship with a traditional and historic hunting weapon/tool. The big buck was on a line that did not give me an unobstructed shot as he approached, so I decided to be patient as he was headed right for us. Sure enough, the Buck stops right under the stand and I have got this solid plywood floor I can't shoot through (yes, we did have plywood back then). So to demonstrate my agility and adaptability to the boy, I step out on to one of the large limbs of the huge white Oak with the utmost stealth, with my bow at full draw and pointed almost straight down.

Just as I start concentrating on the fingers for the release, my boot slips off the limb, the arrow goes high left and I am fallin out of the tree back first, boots up and arms flailing. I hit the ground landing on some fallen leaves, with a nasty root underneath them to remind me that getting the wind knocked out of me was the best thing that would happen to me that day. The buck snorted as if to scoff as he casually trotted off. The boy asked me if my bow had broken, and if that is why I tried to tackle the big buck? OUCH!

LMAO!!!

Those roots will leave a mark! That was hysterical!


All right now, I know I'm not the only one out there who has missed big.....Are you guys gonna fess up or just leave us hanging? Jump in anytime sewwhat89, ya sound like you have been shootin long enough to miss something?

Spook, I'll bet when those two old boys started jawin about your fate , you sweated all that Birthday juice out in about 7 seconds flat?

This bow season I slapped a running yote in the face with my fletchings; last year I gave a piggie a belly rub with my fletchings.

I tried to decapitate a coyote at about 200 yards and missed . . . twice. At the range a couple months later the bullet I was shooting printed 1" high (correct) and 1.5" R (not good). The yote ducked and looked behind him after the first shot. The second must have been very close to his nose because he jerked it back, jumped a couple feet in the air, and hit Mach 4 in the opposite direction.

I have missed soo many times it has ceased to be funny. I am not sure its possible to beat the guy trying to "tackle" the big buck!

Grizz-that is the best story I have heard in a long time.

Griz - That story reminds of a small part of my mispent youth. Driving around in a Jeep with some young studs just south of the Missouri border into Arkansas. Of course I am the designated driver while the Warmbloods are suckin down brew like there is no tommorow. Its about a week before deer hunting season and around 2200 hours, so we decide to get the spotlight out and do some scouting. One of the guys with us is an all American linebacker type and real fast and sneaky. He was infamous for two cliche's, "I'd tackle a freight train if it would'nt make such a mess", and "You gotta love pressure, it turns Coal into Diamonds". So when we turned the corner and hit this big field with the spot, lighting up about 40 does and a few bucks, Paul says to the linebacker, "I bet you can't tackle one of them!" Of course the guy hops out of the jeep and says, "$HIIIIIIIT, Just WATCH ME". WE were all laughin at his drunk a$$ as some of the does get uncomfortable and start to disappear. He works his way into the field and gets behind this one buck who still has his head down just feeding away. As this guy low crawls to within ten yards of the rear of this buck, half the guys in the Jeep are saying "No FREAKIN WAY", and the other half (really sauced) are ROOTIN him on! All of a sudden the buck picks his head up, and I know he is about to bolt, but instead just drops his head and goes right back to feedin. Our boy then leaps to his feet and hits this deer with a ferocity that would have made Dick Butkis proud.

The Stadium lights in the trees come on, the Game Wardens and State Troopers start showing up out of no where, and there is my friend, lying in the field, BRIGHT LIGHTS in his eyes, guns pointed at his head, drunk as a skunk with a mechanical deer locked in his arms.......



I figured we would all go to jail that night. Once the State Troopers figured out we had no weapons in the jeep, they made us pour out all the liquid refreshments, and they figured out that the offending football player was the grandson of Mr. Clark (one of the good guys), they let us all go with just a warning. Man were the Game Wardens pissed!

Ya Spook, you know the guy that made the funniest tackle I ever saw.

OK Nature Boy, I think we have all waited long enough for one of your bow hunting mishaps....its time to fess up....

Fair enough - here you go...

I was 14 and had been shooting archery equipment for a few years. My parents and I had just moved back from Oklahoma to the St. Louis area.

I'd been hunting down in OK all season, and my older brother asked me to go bowhunting. Cool!

When we stepped out of the jeep in the dark that frosty December morning, he suggested I put on more clothes.

"Back off - I know what I'm doing - I've been hunting all season long!". Yeah - in a warmer climate...

"OK, have it your way.", he smiled...

An hour later, I'm standing a few feet inside the woods against a corn field in the blistering cold...

I have now begun to shake and shiver violently - paroxysms rack my skinny body in the blasting wind. All manner of fluid flows from my eyes and nose. My mesh facemask is full of goo and I can hardly see.

Through the wind-whipped tears and the snot, I hear a sound in the back of my barely-conscious mind. Was that a snort?

I stagger to my feet and peek around the tree.

Sure enough! A doe is sneaking downwind of me. No problem - even though she's aware that there's an idiot somewhere in the area, the swirling wind confuses her. She bounds in my direction. Cool!

80 yards... 50 yards... My heart is pounding.
30 yards... 15 yards... I can feel my heartbeat in my neck... Mmmm, uh, draw your bow you moron!

The limbs bend, the eccentric wheels begin to break over and the frostbitten stub that is my left hand clutches at the bow's grip. I vaguely realize that I can't feel a thing...

You've seen what happens next in Road Runner cartoons - Wily Coyote's done this a hundred times...

At nearly full draw, while my right hand is anchored at my mouth, the bow slips out of my left hand. A PSE-shaped missile is now headed in my general direction...

The top wheel whacks me in the forehead and a knot the size of a hickory nut forms at the impact site.

The force of the blow knocks all my arrows out of the quiver onto the ground.

I stumble and stagger like a blind drunkard.

And the doe screeches to a halt 8 feet in front of me and just stares at me blankly.

After 10 seconds or so, she finally walked away calmly and for a moment I could see in her eyes a look of pity. And no wonder, I was a pitiful sight indeed.

Now that was worth the wait!!!

And explains the scar.......

My friends and i used to hunt swamp rabbits in the sugar cane fields in So FL. One day it was ready to rain but hadnt yet,and it was real dark out. The rabbits were up and moving we had shot a few and i saw one at about 65yds, i had a 22lr sighted for 50 and thought i would give it a little Ken. windage. I shot the gun and the rabbit jumped about 4 feet in the air and did a back flip and disapeared in to the cane. We made a complete loop of the property and didnt realize we were at almost the same spot. My friend was up to shoot and we saw a rabbit he fired and killed it, he picked it up and was laughing his ass off as he walked to the truck. He said the rabbit was waiting on EMS, someone had shot it through both ears. Ebb