Like it was a week ago. Last day of shotgun season in Ohio 1992, had sat all week and not seen a single deer. We got together with some friends and put on several drives. On one i was a stander watching the corner of a field, and the edge of a thicket. heard some shooting, and then caught movement in the field. By the time I got the shotgun around, he was almost to the edge of the woods. Swung through the deer, and pulled the trigger. After the shot, couldn't see a thing - no movement, no deer. Walked over to see if I'd hit anything, and walked right past the deer. A button buck that had slid to a stop on the backside of a big stump. Never got an accurate distance, but somewhere around 60 or 70 yards, running with a smoothbore 16g pump and took out his heart. All luck, but I was pretty darn happy at the time. What made it even better was that my grandfather saw him drop (he could have shot it before I even saw it but let it go in hopes that I'd get a shot). I've killed my share of deer since then and plenty that were larger, but none have been quite as big.
gd