I went to sleep the night before opening day with a 102 degree temperature pissed off and depressed that I most likely would miss another opening morning. My dad and I were both already awake before the alarm went off, which I'm sure is pretty standard for the majority of us on this site. I got out of bed and put the thermometer under my tongue, 98.7! We got dressed and made the two hour trip to where we were going to hunt killing a Thermos of coffee along the way. I had previously taken a buddy to this spot during smoke pole season, and he shot a very respectable buck. I decided to walk in before light and sit right where he had been standing when he shot. It's a nice deep canyon that has several finger draws running into it, and the deer use it like a freeway to get from their night feeding spot to their bedding area. As it began to get light I immediately started seeing deer. 13 does/fawns worked there way down one of the draws and right up the other side of the canyon 50 yards from me. Just as they got out of site I heard rocks rolling to my left and here he came. No binoculars necessary to see that he would do just fine. He was coming right to me, but banked left towards one of the finger draws at about 250 yards. If he got in this draw he would be 300+ yards when I saw him again, if I saw him again. It was now or never, so I screwed my scope up on nine-power and let my .280 Remington model 700 mountain rifle bark. Right in front of him, son-of-a-b*tch. I jacked another shell in, and it turned out that first shot worked to my advantage. He turned and started heading right back up the trail that was going to put him right in front of me. I tried to stop him, but it wasn't happening. The next shot grazed him right across his chest, and then I put two right in the house. After my wild war hoop that could be heard on the moon, I walked down to the bottom of the canyon and claimed my buck. He's my second biggest buck to date, and I'm damn proud of him.
