I remember it like it was yesterday, in Jasper county Ga. My dad and I were hunting some public land straight across from the Oconee National Forest. We had parked on the edge of a food plot, and waited for the pink horizon. We talked about what we'd do if the biggun' walked and the likes thereof, and before long it was time to hit the woods. We grabbed our guns and vests and slipped on down the logging road to a place dad was familiar with. When we got there, he took me to a little place over looking a big hardwood ridge, got me all set up, and then proceeded on to his spot. It wasn't long before I heard the Ruger .44mag carbine cook one off and then two more. I heard dad holler, "I got him!" I made my way to his location and saw him standing over the deer looking at it just as tickled as could be. I'm not sure who was more excited, me or him. I walked up and looked at the 8-point rack and high fived dad, and under the new sun, he told me his story. He had been walking along and had seen a deer jump a log and stopped to look around and he saw a buck about 30 yards out looking straight at him. In his excitement, and with the gun being new to him, he missed his first two shoots and connected on the third. That's when he yelled. We proceeded to drag the deer on to the truck, and did the usual stuff with it. You know, parade around town, go to camp, and make up a big long story about how it was way off, and how dad barely could see him, but dropped him with one shot. Dad wouldn't let me tell the part about me hearing three shots, and how he jumped the deer, but it was all in fun. That was my best hunt as of yet, one that I'll never forget. I just hope one day when I have kids, I can show them what I felt that day.