The family and I preped ourselves for some wreath tip collecting. I said, "I won't bring my rifle but just you watch we'll see some deer".
When we arrived at the top of the airstrip I turned to my wife and said. "Do you see what I see?"
Sure enough, there we were parked at the top of the airstrip, sitting in the van watching some deer. I asked her to slowly back up and go to Gordon's. My first thought was, Uncle Roy's rifle. I had heard tales of hunting greatness associated with that rifle. I roused Brandon from his afternoon teenagery and we hunted down the rifles.
Well. We got out to the top of the airstrip and they were still there. I knew firing from this distance was a long shot at best, and to make things worse I'd never fired this rifle. We crept closer and closer until I could get into a prone position that would allow me to steady my arms and shakey hands. I could see him very clearly through the scope, and I knew the rifle had the business to give me a chance. I fired. I never anticipated the recoil or the canon loudness. It was very impressive. In fact, it impressed the scope right into my eyebrow. The deer stood there. Brandon fired. He stood there. I stood up. He finally did run off. I touched my forehead. Sure enough, I'd opened up my skin pretty good. Psh, what a rookie mistake. I joked with my mom, that because it was so loud, somewhere, Uncle Roy whiped around and said "Hey, that's my rifle!"
We walked down just to look. We did find where a round, maybe mine, maybe Brandon's impacted the ground, couple feet low of the target.