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  1. #101
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    I'm headed up to southeast Minnesota next Saturday for some midwest archery giants. Hopefully, I'll have some pics to share. Semi-guided private land hunt. Landowner claims and provided pics of field dressed bucks over 225lbs. Makes the whitetail in the Southeast look puny in comparison.

  2. #102
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    also, anyone selling a duck boat?
    "If we can't bring the mountain to the party, let's bring the PARTY to the MOUNTAIN!"

  3. #103
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    Nov 2006
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    Cold front pushed down in Friday bringing with it tons of waterfowl. Had an amazing weekend with multiple quick limits both days. So many species as well. It was truly a sight to see.

  4. #104
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    Quote Originally Posted by Phall View Post
    also, anyone selling a duck boat?
    I am thinking of selling mine, but I'm way north if you so may not be worth the travel for you. Pm me if interested.

  5. #105
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    Nice work, Front didn't really materialize down here, Saturday was a bust, managed to sneak out a Mallard and Pintail hen between the two of us. Sunday we were expecting wind, rain, and 45 degrees, We got a slight breeze, overcast, and 50, but managed to squeak out a 2 man limit. That would have never been possible without dropping five of the buffleheads with 4 shots between the two of us. Total mixed bag, 7 Buffleheads, Redhead Drake, Bluebill hen and drake, and 4 gadwall.

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    One of the prettiest ducks out there. Buddy may get this one mounted.
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    "If we can't bring the mountain to the party, let's bring the PARTY to the MOUNTAIN!"

  6. #106
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    Sep 2001
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    Quote Originally Posted by Phall View Post
    also, anyone selling a duck boat?
    I have one on consignment that supposedly sold last week but they can't confirm. Not sure you want it--it's a Bass Tracker with a 90hp pumper on it.
    "All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring. We must never, ever be boring."

  7. #107
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    90 would blow the doors off where we are, hunting mostly Farmington Bay, need a beavertail or surface drive, most folks are topping out at 25-30 horse. Ideally looking for a 1448 or 1648, 25 horse surface or beavertail, and trailer.
    "If we can't bring the mountain to the party, let's bring the PARTY to the MOUNTAIN!"

  8. #108
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    Oct 2006
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    First ever single species limit last night. Was warmer and calmer than expected but happened into a little teal hole.

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    "If we can't bring the mountain to the party, let's bring the PARTY to the MOUNTAIN!"

  9. #109
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    A few pics from deer camp. Filled a doe tag, but didn't see a buck I wanted to use my A tag on and sacrifice the last two weeks of hunting rutting whitetails from my stand. But I was psyched to get some more meat for the freezer and had a great time drinking loads of beer with my buds.

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    View of the Marias River out the back window.
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    The cabin from across the river where I saw 17 does, a spike, and a forkie.
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    Didn't shoot any birds but some guys were going after them when I left.
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    Porcupine in a Russian olive tree.
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  10. #110
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    Nov 2006
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    Nice work fellas! Way to clean up on Teal Phall! Those guys are tasty!

  11. #111
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    Sep 2001
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    Good but strange year for me.
    I spent my whole bull elk tag season hunting--I think I sat three out of 28 days or something like that--the rest were either mornings before work, evenings after or whole days. At first it was hot and heavy during a 7 day llama-assisted pack trip into the mountains--my buddy shot his nice 6x6 bull 15 minutes into the season after we had put it to bed the night before. While on that trip, we'd see elk, make a play and the I'd pass on younger or smaller bulls knowing I had plenty of time and the going had been easy. The big boys weren't around yet but I wasn't worried. This continued for the rest of that 7 day trip--I did pass on one very tall and wide 5x5--that I knew I might regret. The action was consistent for the following week, too. Lots of elk, nothing that I wanted to punch my tag on that early in the 28 day season.

    Then the weather changed and it was in the low 60's. The elk simply shut off--I'd locate them after work nearly every evening, wait, and they didn't have to come out of the timber due to the warm temps. Day after day I'd go out and sometimes see them but with only about 20 minutes out of the trees in the evening (if at all) and maybe 45 in the morning at best, they were spending nearly all of the day in the heavy timber. On about day twelve of this high pressure system, my buddy and I finally found a nice bull one morning. The next morning we went back in and were in a good position in the dark, spirits high. As it became light enough to see, my buddy muttered, "What the fuck?" and points across the gulch we were in. The bull and his cows were in full sprint, roughly 3/4 of a mile away, running away. Confused, we didn't see any other hunters and our wind had been excellent. About ten minutes later we saw two wolves in the exact spot we saw the bull in the previous morning. Bastards.

    After a few more days of hot weather, I found myself still holding my tag with only a week to go. Fortunately the weather suddenly broke, bringing in some snow and nasty weather. Another friend of mine and I made a few assaults on an area that seldom sees pressure because it requires a boat to access. Two days in a row we saw bulls, one a very large 6x6 with a broken right main that I thought was very cool. Two days in a row we got hosed--the second day we were pinned by his harem in very open country as he disappeared while we froze our asses off, shivering on a ridge hoping he'd feed back into view. He never did and we simply suffered.

    Another two days later, I returned to a different area and found myself chasing some elk that I had seen on a ridge about two miles out a canyon, while the sun began to fade. Trudging through about a foot of new snow, the going was slow and I realized I was going to run out of light at the base of the ridge I thought I had last seen them on. Sweaty and frustrated from speed hiking through the snow to get there, I turned around and took a few steps back down my tracks when a bugle ripped behind me. It was close. I ran back up along the base of this ridge and suddenly saw a line of elk moving very quickly, left to right, across an avalanche chute roughly 500 yards away. They weren't sprinting but more like in a purposeful jog, the bull somewhere in front and out of my view, bugling every 30 seconds or so. I scrambled behind some trees and worked my way closer as quickly as I could, feeling clumsy in the snow. I rounded some timber and the elk train was still filtering across that 50 yard chute. At this point, Mr. Loudmouth must have been 300 yards down the canyon but it didn't matter--this was a large herd of elk, single file, crossing the chute now 350 yards in front of me. Cow. Cow. Cow. Spike. Cow. Cow. Bull. etc. etc., all running across this chute.

    I found a decent place to get prone, threw my pack off, ranged again, dropped prone and adjusted my scope. Just as I got my eye on the reticle, the "train" stopped. No more elk in view, roughly a hundred or so already down and out of site, mewing and bugling like they were singing travel songs. I exhaled, pissed again. Suddenly two cows appeared in the chute and a very large bull was about ten yards behind them as they jogged down the trail. Not knowing what else to do, I blew a cow call and watched as the two cows slammed on the brakes and looked towards me. The bull, somewhat out of breath and oblivious, rammed into them like a dude in an airport staring at his phone. He walked between them, I called again, and he stopped.

    I put the reticle on him and felt a very hard-hunted season release. For some reason I whispered, "lights out," as I slowly pulled the trigger on this easy-money, 320 yard broadside shot on a dead-still bull.

    Click.

    I simply sat there, unwilling to process what had just happened. The elk lost interest and shuffled on, despite another cow call. I then looked at my rifle and noticed that my bolt was maybe 1/2 a centimeter up and open. In my rush to get prone, I had likely knocked it just enough to keep it from striking the primer hard enough. The lights were definitely still on.

    On the walk back to the truck, maybe 2 miles down and another 500 yards to the truck, I actually ran into the herd again in the near dark--they had crossed to my side of the river and were quietly walking single file on the hiking trail upwind and literally 20 yards below me. Again I stood in disbelief--it was well past legal shooting hours but I could see them very clearly as the herd simply walked on by me, right past my truck and over a saddle into the next canyon. My soul was crushed. I tried to find the herd the next morning but they were nowhere to be seen--a full moon that night probably allowed them to keep going for however long they wanted.

    Now I had two days left in the season and I began to accept that I was going to eat tag-soup. I was surprised at how little disappointment I felt. I had been putting in for this local rifle tag for 10 years and had very, very high expectations to extract revenge on any of the big bulls I had missed archery hunting this unit for the last five years or so. And now, after hunting my balls off and passing on some pretty decent bulls, I was going to end the season empty handed. I had, however, learned more about elk hunting in those 20-some-odd-days than I had in the past several years. I had hunted hard and given it hell and this somehow made me happy despite the abject failure. I had simply gotten over confident and now was going to pay the price--a common but stupid mistake. With 36 hours left, I went out that morning and found nothing.

    The next day I went to work, thinking I had a lot to do and my family barely recognized me anymore, despite my wife's unwavering support. Every night I came home, exhausted, empty handed and frustrated, she'd tell me that I'd get one and then joke, "champions never quit." The likelihood of me being able to hunt that final evening of the season was slim. My boss asked if I was going to hunt that night and I said probably not, and he gave me a look like like, "really?" My wife texted me and told me to go. My buddy called me and he had gotten out of a work meeting that evening and was game to go out for a Hail Mary, so I scooted out of work at 2 and we drove up to an area I hadn't been to in three weeks. It's a very consistent archery area but a pretty big climb and more importantly, the elk hadn't been in any of their "normal" zones since beginning to herd up and head to their wintering grounds earlier that week. They were in different patterns and I had never hunted elk in November.

    We geared up and I locked the truck, heading up the barely visible trail under 6" of snow. Only 100 yards into the hike, we spotted some elk high on a ridge directly above us--about 2k feet above us. They were bedded at the top, glowing in the evening sun, easy to spot in the snow. "Holy shit," I said. Hail Mary indeed. "There's only a few seconds on the clock, Marcus Mariotta has been squeezed from the pocket and is rolling right, but he sees a receiver down field!" "This is going to hurt," my buddy said as we looked up the very steep, snow-covered sage hill in front of us.

    [Continued below]
    "All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring. We must never, ever be boring."

  12. #112
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    Sep 2001
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    We began to climb, weaving through the sage, sometimes slipping in the snow. I'd pick a loan tree or bush somewhere up the hill and silently celebrate as we would eventually pass it. We climbed the 1900' or so in about an hour and some change, finally sitting just below the top of the ridge where we had last seen the handful of elk from far below. Once we caught our breath, we stood up and crept over the ridge--the elk were still bedded in the same spot at the end of the long ridge. Glassing, we saw at least three bulls--one of which was very big--and a bunch of cows. Some of the cows were already up and feeding but the bulls were enjoying the first sunshine in a few days, 550 yards away. We dropped back down about 20 yards and then headed around the ridge, occasionally poking up to range--500, 425, 390--we were getting closer and were already in my comfort zone but we didn't have a clear line of sight yet. Eventually the timber on the side of the ridge we were hiking ran out and we stopped just short, guessing that we were somewhere around 350 yards from the bulls who sat in a bowl on the other side of this ridge. My buddy smiled. "That receiver now has a few yards on his man. The game clock is at zero but he's got his hand up, calling for the ball!"

    Smiling myself and enjoying the adrenaline, I began to stand again, planning on creeping the 5 yards to the ridge to try to line up a shot when my buddy tugged hard on my pack. Without turning around or saying a word, I froze, and very slowly dropped to my knees, knowing what was likely happening. Sure enough, a cow had fed up about 325 yards in front of us on our side of the ridge and was directly in our line of sight through a window in the timber. We waited until she fed out of the window. I was ready to try again when my buddy whispered, "hold up, dude--four bulls behind her. Get ready...not sure...just get ready...hold on....yeah...yup." What happened next took maybe all of 30 seconds but feels like an hour in retrospect. We had no time to weigh our options, no time to verbally strategize because the window we had through the timber to see these elk was very narrow and they were moving. We knew the other three bulls we had originally stalked were likely still on the other side of the ridge but we likely couldn't move until these new elk fed out of the bowl in front of us. If we moved, we'd bust them out and they'd alert the others. We also didn't know how many elk were outside our view through the timber--none? A few cows? More bulls? No idea. My thought was that if these guys fed out of the window but stayed put on that side of the ridge, we'd be double fucked--no shot on them but we likely couldn't move on the others because these ones would see us crest the ridge. 44 minutes were now left on the tag in my pocket.

    I slowly and quietly laid prone across the slope in the snow, my rifle on its bipod with the barrel pointing towards the window. My buddy was kneeling behind me with his binocs up, range finder dangling from his chest. "Oh yeah. One of them is waaaaaay bigger than the others. They're fighting. Can you see him?" He ranged them quickly. "358 yards, your call." I adjusted my turret, settled into the scope and saw the four bulls, two of them sparring, horns locked, one easily pushing the other across maybe ten yards horizontally across the slope. Upon separating it was obvious that one was, indeed, much bigger than the other three. "I'm going to to take it," I whispered. The bull was now clear of the other elk and quartered to me with his left shoulder facing me. I lined the reticle up with his other rear leg so that my shot would be just looker's left of his shoulder and hopefully pass through his heart and maybe right lung. I don't know why I said this, all Heath Ledger style, but I said, "And here.......we.......go," as I slowly pulled the trigger the .300WM.

    Boom!....Whack! I watched through my scope and it was seemingly odd--the bull didn't move as the bullet impacted. He slowly looked down in right front of him, like he was contemplating eating, then immediately collapsed, rolling down the hill a good 40 yards, coming to rest on his side.

    My friend and I aggressively man-hugged, high-fived, made touchdown signs yelling "touchdown, Oregon" and laughed. We'd pause, then start again. I couldn't believe it. The rest of the elk--about 50 of them now that they were all in view--calmly side-hilled out of the bowl above their fallen comrade as if they'd done it a hundred times before. The big boy from the other side turned out to be not-so-big. He was giant. Oh well.

    After texting my friends back in town and requesting back-up on the pack-out, we began to sidehill ourselves out to the bull who had clearly died instantly. Upon arrival, we both laughed at each other. This bull--the monster of his group--turned out to be a very average 5x5 which meant the other bulls with him must have been absolute hobbits.

    I couldn't have given less of a shit--I was elated. That was the hardest season I had ever hunted and this very average 5 which we named Marcus will always remind me of the greatest Hail Mary of my very average hunting career. Two hours later and we had cleaned him down to the bone. His front shoulder had been turned to jelly--the bullet apparently entered just left of the shoulder, exactly where I aimed, but it did some serious bouncing because it came back and cost me quite a bit of that front left quarter. I didn't mind--I made sure to utilize every ounce of meat that remained while my buddy caped the skull. Another 30 minutes and backup arrived--two headlamps cresting the ridge, whooping and hollering "fucking touchdown!"

    The best part? Now I can get back to bird hunting!

    Note from the author: I cooked a steak tonight and it was the best back strap I've ever eaten. Pics to come.
    Last edited by The Reverend Floater; 11-13-2017 at 05:03 PM.
    "All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring. We must never, ever be boring."

  13. #113
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    Mar 2007
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    At first I thought. Damn wall o’text. Then i read it.. good times!

  14. #114
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    Feb 2005
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    I slowly and slowly scrolled down as I read hoping that I would be reading those final words.

    Huge congrats, and thanks for sharing your epic.
    Is it radix panax notoginseng? - splat
    This is like hanging yourself but the rope breaks. - DTM
    Dude Listen to mtm. He's a marriage counselor at burning man. - subtle plague

  15. #115
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    Nov 2012
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    Nice work Reverend! Way to get it done and awesome story.

    I have no stories to share during muley rifle season. No action to speak of, and the nice bucks our group did see know exactly where the private land boundaries are. I can own that muley season has been a bit of an afterthought for me, and I need to do more scouting and studying. Once early elk season is over, I have to flip that switch. Cow tags for 4th rifle in hand, stoked for one more try at filling the freezer.

  16. #116
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    "If we can't bring the mountain to the party, let's bring the PARTY to the MOUNTAIN!"

  17. #117
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    Jul 2007
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    Yukon
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    Tagged along for a mountain caribou hunt - Nahanni Range, Yukon, Canada. Think I've got the backpack hunting bug now. Bear stress was a lot to manage though. The day before the kill we had a group of four grizzlies pass through camp and traverse the bowl where the bull was shot just 12 hours later. Butchering took a while.. felt very exposed down in the drainage. We left the alpine high camp that night and managed to pack out in one shot. Never carried a backpack I couldn't lift before..maybe 100lb each with gear. Went back the next day to retrieve camp, detouring a long ways around the gut pile to avoid an encounter. The tenderloin dinner we ate upon return may have been the greatest thing I've ever tasted.

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  18. #118
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    Jun 2006
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    Couloirfornia
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    This thread delivers. Congrats guys.
    Quote Originally Posted by Ernest_Hemingway View Post
    I realize there is not much hope for a bullfighting forum. I understand that most of you would prefer to discuss the ingredients of jacket fabrics than the ingredients of a brave man. I know nothing of the former. But the latter is made of courage, and skill, and grace in the presence of the possibility of death. If someone could make a jacket of those three things it would no doubt be the most popular and prized item in all of your closets.

  19. #119
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    Nov 2006
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    Great story Rev. Nice work Solesides.

  20. #120
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    May 2007
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    I was going to complain about the lack of photos in that post but the story was told so well it almost doesn't need them. That's not to say you shouldn't post them, Rev.

    Sweet caribou hunt, that last shot has my mouth watering.
    "...no hobby should either seek or need rational justification. To find reasons why it is useful or beneficial converts it at once from an avocation into an industry, lowers it at once to the ignominious category of an exercise undertaken for health, power or profit."
    -Aldo Leopold

  21. #121
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    Damn, great stories! Congrats Rev, sounds like a helluva season. Good lesson there in sticking it out all the way to the end. Fuck that must have felt good.

    Solesides awesome pics. Nice job on the caribou.

    Today got my heart pumping good as I saw a really nice shooter whitetail buck at about 4 p.m. Didn't get a shot but will be back in the stand at first light for another crack. So fun.

  22. #122
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    Nov 2006
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    Went waterfowling yesterday and had one of my top 5 all time hunts. We got on the water late after plan A turned out to be frozen out from the ramp with 2" ice for 100yds. That was a bummer since a scouting report told us it was holding tons of birds. That forced us to plan B which was not giving us high hopes as we hadn't been able to scout it. We launched at day light and motored up river for 8 miles to our go to spot. The ride was sort of depressing as we only kicked up a couple ducks the whole way but saw a ton of geese. We only had 8 floater geese and no full bodies with us.
    Well we set up and hunkered into the blind. The we sat watched empty skies for hours. We fucked up on a group of birds around 8:45 when I let the anxious dog walk around to stretch her legs. I remote laid her down but she was in the open and the birds pin pointed her about 50yds out and flared. My buddy and I thought great, only group and we had our heads up our ass. Oh well. Then about 30 min later I saw a huge flight of about 150 mallards way high and out front. They were going to skirt our left side crazy high and wide. I said fuck it and let out a series of as loud as I could muster hail calls only to have about 30 of the birds break off and start their grind. I couldn't fucking believe it, they were cupped up about 500yds high and dropping in like stones. I looked at my buddy and said, " oh fuck, it's on!" They dropped right in and I doubled on green and he picked one drake. Sent the dog and we just looked at other in shock.
    Just as the dog was retrieving the last bird I saw another big flight. We laid into to them and broke everyone one of them, 50+birds to the decoys. The other super fun aspect is they wanted to be called all the way to the water. If you let up they would start to slide off. It's tiring but silly fun when that happens. We continued to do this for the next 2 hours about every 20 min or so until we both shot limits of green. I was done pretty quickly as I doubled on a couple flocks, but my buddy was having aiming issues. It happens sometimes. My girl Lacy was amazing as always having to make multiple retrieves, with a few blind marks each time. What a day!




    Sunset after we scouted a new area.

  23. #123
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    28 beaks and some jewelry yesterday. Migration is on.

  24. #124
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    Nice, push em down here. The storm fizzled out for the SLC area and the hunting shut off Friday.
    "If we can't bring the mountain to the party, let's bring the PARTY to the MOUNTAIN!"

  25. #125
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    Feb 2009
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    Just South of the North Country
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    Got some Tender loins for Thxgiving grill today!
    40yrds/12G...clean shot and drop.
    Doe=meat ��
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