Not a deer, but good story. When I was a little kid my folks did not have any money so rented out a spare bedroom. It was rented to a fellow who was in the Navy, and when he got transferred out he could not take his rifle: a Winchester model model 69, .22 long rifle’semi - target’. He gave the rifle to my dad when I was just 4 or 5 years old, and when I was about 10 Dad started to teach me how to shoot it. At 13, Dad let me keep the rifle in my room as long as I took the bolt out and hid it from my friends… Dad was very safety conscious and told me in no uncertain terms if I ever did anything stupid he would take it away and never let me shoot with him again. That was a serious threat. We had great times plinking in the woods and later I did a little bit of rabbit and grouse hunting with it. It’s really accurate and can hold 3” groups at 100 yards.
Fast-forward about 60 years; I got a call from my granddaughter saying there was a coyote on their back deck, eyeing their chickens and it would not run away when she yelled at it: she asked me if I could bring some broadheads for her bow, but I said in a case like this it sounds like need for a firearm. I grabbed the trusty old 22 and half an hour later I with her walking their property on the Key Peninsula. She guided me on a couple of trails and as we walked a Ridge saw the coyote 50 yards away sitting in a clearing looking at us. I sat down, snugged the sling as dad taught me and touched the 2# trigger. End of coyote.
That was the perfect time for me to have a firearms talk with her which led to a plinking session. She thanked me and said she’d never forget this time together.
