Most Satisfying Shot

BritChaser

BritChaser

Well-known member
Tell us about your most satisfying shot. Here's mine:

Gus the Brittany and I are alone again and on a long hill, a ridge, that runs north-south for a half mile through a beautiful CRP field. All the ambers, umbers, tans, and beiges of fall decorate the flora and the sky is deep and so blue. We’ve been here before and have expectations of flushing pheasants. We’ve started at the north end so as to be heading into the slight southern breeze. Nature has provided us a gorgeous early winter day on the high plains of western Kansas.

We are about a fourth of the way along the long ridge just strolling along, no hurry and . . . point! I hasten forward. When I am about 40 feet from Gus, he breaks point and begins scurrying madly back and forth and ahead searching for the scent. This dog loves the hunt. (I don’t train my dogs to hold point until released. I leave that decision to them.) Point! I hustle to catch up hoping to make the flush. Point broken again and Gus is quartering and racing ahead to find the bird. I am speed walking with my gun held out front as I lean into the effort. Point! Point broken! Gus dashes on and quarters about. I’m breathing harder now. I stay leaning forward for speed, gun held away from me ready to snap to my shoulder. But I am not keeping up with Gus. I try to quicken my pace, give it more gas. But I don’t seem to have much more gas. Now I am catching up. I’m getting within range. Point! Point broken! Gus is quartering, on the run again. I am panting and sweating and feeling the strain in my not young legs. Point! Point broken! Point! Point broken! Gus is out of range again. But now I am catching up again somehow. Gus is now just 20 yards ahead. Point! I drive my legs and pant for air to close the distance for the flush. Point broken! But . . . Flush! The bird tears away in terror to the southwest. I shoulder and snap off a shot, hoping that I led him correctly. Knock down! I can’t believe it. I have no more in me and stand motionless and panting while Gus goes down the west slope for the retrieve. I feel the sweat dripping down my back and my neck as I finally catch my breath. I look around to get reoriented. We have chased the running bird to a point two-thirds of the way south along the half-mile long hill top. Gus trots up with the bird. Now all is not merely well, but wonderful. I just made the most satisfying shot in my years of hunting due entirely to the brilliant work of a minimally managed bird dog.
 
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I think in those situations when you are physically about spent, your concentration becomes more acute. It is a huge rush of relief mixed with a good amount of satisfaction folding a rooster with a tough shot in those conditions. Been there before also.
 
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Great story! I wasnt sure if this was one of those “post yours”, but i will. I had three of my most satisfying shots about 17 years ago with a 12 year old shorthair female who was all business most of her hunting career. Something about her was just different and programmed to kill birds. She locked up at one of my favorite spots, and i knew every hunt could be her last. Rooster flushes, dropped hard. About the same time as i shot, another flushed and flew same direction. Dead. About the time i shot, the 3rd flushed same direction. Dead. All birds were within a few feet of each other. Dead. I remember feeling thankful, but oddly, not terribly shocked. I knew her end was close, and it just felt like it was supposed to happen. If memory serves me, she had one more hunt. My mom went to watch after hearing me talk about how she hunts for years, and she got to see her in action and we got one bird she locked on and i nailed. Idk what was the most satisfying out of that, but I remember that “triple” like it was yesterday.
 
I remember a rare true double on rosters. Both dead. Different directions. Another that sticks in my mind was, my buddy and I had a covey of quail pointed in a tree line. I was shooting my Rizzini 16 o/u. I stepped through the tree line and a few steps latter a huge covey got up staggered. I missed one, killed one, reloaded, missed one killed one, reloaded, killed two. Reloaded and just stood there and watched another 15 or so get up the same way. I swear I could have killed maybe 8 without moving my feet. I knew I had 4 down so figured that was enough.
 
Not the most satisfying but the most mystifying.

Was hunting the edge of a 20 acre CRP field and one rooster flew up about 10 yards away when I reached the corner and was flying with its back to me, I nailed it on the first shot...Kept Flying. Nailed it on the second shot....kept flying and landed about 300 yards away on the other side of the CRP.

I was shocked it had managed to fly that far because each shot had feathers coming off the back of it but it landed like it was unhurt.

I walked over there thinking I would flush it up again but after carefully circling around I eventually found it dead right where it landed.
 
Hunting with my buddies on their private ground my buddy hit a rooster 2x and I couldn't safely shoot until it was 60 yards. Had a strong tail wind behind it and I just put a good lead on it and it folded up like a wet rag. Just didn't want to see a cripple get away to suffer.
 
Okay I will go outside the box. Many many years ago I was at a friends house and his son wanted to go on a walk up the mountain with his BB gun. My friend told his son that I was a true marksman and never missed. Total BS but we went with it. It was spring and cold and very windy. We got up a ways and he saw a little twitty bird on a bush about 50 yards away. His dad said let Jerry shoot it. So he pumped it up 10 times and handed me the BB gun. It was a little bush moving 3-4 feet side to side in the wind. I pulled up and held 3 feet high and 3 feet left for windage and touched one off. The bird dropped stone dead and the boy scrambled up the scree rock to grab it. He brought it back and said look the at this. The BB was perfectly in the eye socket, turning that bird into a goldeneye. 😀 I calmly said well of course I was aiming for the head. Well every bird we saw after that he wanted me to shoot. I said too easy you shoot, you need the practice. I will take that lucky shot to my grave.

My second best shot was even more years ago at a public waterfowl marsh. The blinds were kind of in a row for about a mile. We heard shots and then more getting closer and we heard many shots. My buddy grabbed his shotgun and a teal came through at Mach 20 rising up and down. He got off a shot but missed way behind it from the pond shot spray at about 50 yards. Don’t judge it was when you could use lead. I grabbed my shotgun and turned toward the bird not a pull through. My buddy was too close. It was a classic from the hip shot and stoned the most unlucky teal in the world. My only regret was the losers that missed didn’t see it. But by God they heard me hollering. 😀
 
@2point - Your story about the tweety bird reminds me of a story my dad told me. He was visiting back home in NE Wisconsin, and his younger brothers (probably in their 20s) and he went out to the dump for some plinking. At one point, a soda can ended up being put on a bush quite a ways away. With a pistol, one of the younger brothers took a shot. Can was still in the bush. My dad took a shot, and the can fell. My dad walked up and picked up the can. His brother called out asking him how many holes were in the can. He replied "Just one." What he didn't tell him was that one hole was the hole you drink out of. :LOL:

Decades later, at some family function, my dad asked his brother if he remembered that time they were out at the dump plinking at cans. The brother said yes. My dad finally told him that the hole wasn't from the bullet and he must have hit the branch. But he did let him believe that he had bested him for quite a while.

There was another time where the two younger brothers were shooting at a tweety bird on the ground way down range. After many shots, they couldn't touch it. My dad took a single shot and "poof", gone. This time, he didn't tell them that he noticed he had hit in front of it and got it on the bounce.
 
Mine was with the dog in the pic in my profile. His last hunt, age 14. He never liked hunting in groups, freaked him out. Great pheasant dog but usually with only me. This day there were 3 of us. One older guy who can't walk, so he blocks and picks us up in the field. The other was the farm owner of the best place I hunt. last day of the season we were hunting a little patch of about 3 acres. It was loaded with birds.

Dog hunted and pointed at least 15 cocks in that patch. Farmer got a limit, blocker got a limit but I held off shooting to watch the dog. I had a good idea it was his last hunt. As we were heading back to the truck he pinned down yet another cock and I shot it over his point and he retrieved it to hand. I never trained him to do that but he would on a very rare occasion.

Three old guys, one old dog and as many birds as we wanted to see plus his last one for me and him.
 
Very capable looking dog, and such a good one
 
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