My second year hunting. I was 13 (1982).
My dad and I drove around delivering the Milwaukee Sentinel paper very early that Sunday. Still made the woods well before light.
We hunted on public land, but knew it well. To say it was cold would be an understatement. I climbed into by homemade, wooden ladder stand and waited. Of course I got cold and needed to walk. That sort of thing was frowned upon as we usually hunted dark to dark from the one stand.
Anyway, I walked a bit and then nature called. Oh crap! Well the "green sheets" in the middle of the Sunday paper were thin and worked just fine. Now I just decided to sit on the ground behind an old, abandoned wood pile about 2 ft. tall. Great little spot overlooking a small grassy opening bordering a swamp (at the time, it just looked like an ok spot to sit, no thought was put into it)
Anyway, about 5 minutes into the sit a small forkhorn comes strolling by. The bead sighted 870 with the cheapest slugs we could find came up and I shot. Hit him a bit back in the liver and maybe one lung. He ran a bit and stopped. I got up, then down on one knee to shoot again as he has in some trees now. Shot again, high but spined him. He fell right there. I was estatic. My dad heard the shots and was there fairly soon afterward. It was great for us!
The guy who was walking slowly thru swamp and came upon us and the dead deer wasn't too happy, but he did make a nice drive
The only other part of that hunt that I remember was flinging the "boy parts" as far as I could. No use advertising a buck kill on public land
Even where we hunt now (private), I still do that little trick for old time sake