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    Went out scouting for elk last weekend.
    Not a sign. Nothing.
    Went out this AM and didn’t expect to see anything again.
    The snow just hasn’t moved them down.

    Then the guys in the truck ahead of us jump out and take a shot. Hmm, about 20 heading our way. But alas, over the ridge they go.
    I look up and try to get the boy to look.
    He keeps looking the wrong way.

    Coming down along the ridge, about 300 elk. Time to go!

    Some creative driving and we are ahead of the stragglers. The front runners are on private property again.

    Line up with the fence line, they are moving. South bound for Utah.
    We each fire three rounds, the boy brackets the elk perfectly, never touching it.
    My first round, I’ll proudly say I was dead on for distance, all three landed within 3″ vertically.
    Their speed, yeah I didn’t lead enough.
    Nothing but stomach. She didn’t even notice.
    The kids last round, had gone in front of the elk he was shooting at, mine was following and hesitated when the first stopped momentarily.
    I dropped one in right behind the front leg, followed by another through the front shoulder.
    Her hind end drops, she rolls down the hill, legs sticking up.

    Only the second time I have used the rifle in the field, but the load I have used for 20+ years now.

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