It was about 3 this afternoon. I had been setting in my stand for about one and a half hours. Out of the left side I caught the first sight of him. He was crossing left to right, about 30 yrds from me. As he waked through the pines, I raised my 30-06 and sighted in a few feet ahead of his path and waited for him to walk into my cross hairs. I could see that he had a nice rack. More than 8 points I supposed. I was very excited to see such a nice rack in the hills of Mississippi. I squeezed the trigger and dropped him in his tracks. While I waited for him to die, I counted points through my scope. I had never killed a deer with such a nice rack. He was huge, his neck swollen from the rut. I could already see him on my wall.
After about 30 minutes I could wait no longer to put my hands on his antlers, and admire my handy work. I climbed down and walked up to him. I could see that if he was symmetrical, I had a 14 pointer. My heart raced in anticipation, as I grabbed hold of the antler, to look at the other side.
What tha heck, where the hell is the other side? It was completely gone. It made my heart drop. My adrenaline rush came to a screeching halt.
He weighed in at 210lbs. Not a lot of hill deer that big around here. The biggest one killed in my club this year. Not too bad for the only female member. Still, I can't help but be a little sad. Maybe I could get the taxidermist to split the head length ways and mount it side view. Don't ask, don't tell.