The 8-point was standing under the feeder and a raccoon was dishing out corn as fast as the buck could eat it. He was only 69 yards off, but his chest was behind a big white oak tree. We watched him for 20 minutes, and finally something spooked him. He jumped out into the open, slightly quartering away. I whispered, “Shoot,” and my daughter pulled the trigger. The buck mule-kicked like he was heart shot, ran a tight circle, wobbled like a drunk, dropped and went still. When we got to where he’d piled up, there was nothing but blood. He was gone, and we never saw him again.
My daughter is a decent rifle shot. Just six months before shooting this whitetail buck, she’d completed her first African safari.…