Hunters Who Never Miss

It was 20 years ago, and a friend and I were hunting mule deer on a northeastern Wyoming ranch. There were some good bucks on it, and I shot a dandy mule deer (shown below) as did my hunting buddy.

A few hunters on the ranch were there for antelope, not mule deer. One was the sort that let his mouth overload his back-side, and he told everyone within shouting distance that he never missed a shot. Not once, not ever. He was Dead-eye Dick with a rifle. He acted as if he was several notches better than the other sportsmen in camp.

Such people irritate me almost as much as those who say they always shoot bigger critters than onyone else. Most are obnoxious louts that other hunters dislike having in a hunting camp. I occasionally hassle them, if for no other reason than they deserve it. It becomes a bit of fun to publicly embarrass them.

Starting to put the pressure on the loud mouth.

"Is that a fact?" I asked, setting the hook into him. "I'm frankly in awe of anyone who can shoot game and never miss a shot. Do you mind if I shoot some photos? It would make for a good magazine feature, and later tonight I'll do an interview. For now, I just need some photographs of you in action. OK with you?"

'You bet, kid," he said. "I'll show you how it's done. I pull the trigger, and the 'lope hits the dirt. You'll have to be quick to catch me in action."

"I'll try to keep up with you," I said, adding a bit more pressure to the situation. "I'll do the best I can. It's going to be great watching a hotshot like you shoot."

We drove around until we spotted several antelope, and the gent said we could get closer on foot. He said the biggest buck would go 15 inches or a bit better, and that is what he wanted. That and some good cutters.

He and I stepped out of the truck, got a roll of ground between us and the antelope, and I dogged his tracks. We covered a quarter-mile, and he cautiously peeked over the hill. The antelope were 125 yards away, staring off toward the pickup truck.

The moment of truth.

He sat down, got his shooting sticks situated, and I was right behind him, prepared to shoot photos over his shoulder. He eased the rifle fore-end into the sticks, snuggled up tight to the rifle stock, peered through the scope, and whispered "watch this, kid."

I was watching the buck antelope and clicking photos with a telephoto lens. The buck goat never moved at the shot.

"You missed," I whispered to him.

"Nope," he said. "Just watch, he'll topple over soon."

"Better shoot again. I can see him through my telephoto lens, and he doesn't know where the shot came from. You flat-out missed him. Shoot again before he runs off."

He did, and with the same result. Braggarts are a pain, and I needled him a bit. "Hey, partner, you flat missed that antelope. Try it again."

By now, he's ticked at me, mad for making a fool of himself by bragging up his ability to shoot, and aimed and fired a third shot. The antelope wheeled, looked our way, and put it in overdrive.

"Missed again, bub," I advised. "They're gone now and are probably halfway to town my now."

"They will pop up on that rise and I'll try again," he said. The rise was 400 yards away, and I knew the antelope would be moving fast.

Up they came, and he shot, and the buck antelope dropped. It was hit in the back end. We jogged over to the fallen animal, and he shot it at close range to end its misery.

"Must be tough missing those three shots when you've never missed before," I teased. "You had me going there for a bit. You were just putting the shuck on me, weren't you? That last shot ruined most of the steaks, but then, antelope are pretty small critters at 400 yards. Right?"

He wouldn't talk to me, and left camp as soon as we returned, and never talked to a soul before pulling out. It's what bragging does to people who can't back up their words.

Every hunter missed at one time or another.

A friend of mine missed two whitetail bucks today. No excuses, he flat missed. But then, I've seen him miss once or twice in the past 30 years, and I've also seen him make some almost unbelievable long-range shots.

A buck came out in front of him at over 200 yards during a drive, and he missed that buck with both shots. It crossed a nearby road, and everyone in his hunting party searched for blood or hair. Both were clean misses, and he'd made those kinds of shots many times in the past.

On the next drive he spotted another buck, shot once, and missed again. They checked for blood or hair, and it was another clean miss.

"Hey, I just plain missed," he said. "I've got no excuses. For whatever reason, I missed, plain and simple."

I had gone years without missing a whitetail with a bow, and casually mentioned that fact to a friend a few years ago. Sure enough, that was the night I missed an easy quartering-away shot. Bragging is never a good idea.

There is a big difference between these two men. One was a loud mouth and braggart, and the other freely admitted to his misses, just like I did just now. The first one got needled hard because he had bragged himself into a corner from which there was no escape, and the other man and I deserved the sympathy we got.

We've all missed deer in the past, and may very well miss again in the future. It's a part of deer hunting, and those who say they never miss have either shot very little game or is a stone cold liar ... or, most likely, a combination of the two.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors