The 8-point buck – a handsome specimen of a white-tailed deer – tapped out about 50 yards to my front in a cut alfalfa field.
With about 15 minutes of shooting time left on opening day several years ago at deer camp in north-central Minnesota, I’d placed one round from my trusty .243 into the unsuspecting animal’s boiler room. It dropped nearly where it had stood – a textbook clean kill. Truth is, a novice could have made that shot. About 20 minutes later, gutting gloves up to my elbows, day tiptoeing ever closer to night, I began field-dressing my deer when a good friend chimed in.
