the story goes a little something like this. started hunting on sat the 11th in a white out snow storm. passed up 6 or 7 little guys sat, 11 bucks on sun, and 4 bucks on mon. the afternoon hunt was a ride around in the polaris ranger and look at some new country. i spotted a few deer on a distant ridge glassed for a while only saw does and one small buck. when i saw the rest of the deer up the ridge about 100 yards and saw this buck and knew he had to die so my dad ranged the buck 252 yards i took aim and let drive. the first shot was no good there was a big rock right in front of the deer that i could not see white smoke rolled off the rock the buck spun around and ran down the hill. when he stopped the second time there was no rock and down he went 300 weatherby strikes again.