What's your worst miss? Share your story!

My nephew's first deer hunt. Youth day in SC. He was 16 and borrowed his grandfather's 30-30 with BDC scope. Arrived before dawn and hunted hard all day. All day I promised to put him on a big buck, and we worked our asses off to make that happen. I had one in mind and was praying we'd stumble onto him. :)

Last section near sunset, hiking the power lines, Big Red steps out of the brush and into the only ray of sunlight in sight. It was like a perfect movie scene. I range him at 150 yards. We knew he was big. Then he turned broadside and cranked his head directly toward us, presenting a huge rack. Probably 8 points, but tall, wide, fat, and mature. Nephew lined up and fired. Buck ran off unscathed. Poor kid didn't understand how the BDC worked, put the first ball on the buck's shoulder, and shot right over him. I had told him to just lay the cross hairs on him, but he had "heard" something about how BDCs worked and tried what he thought he knew.

Heartbreaking, but permanent lesson learned. Know how to use your gear. I bought him his own 700 later that year and made sure he understood how it worked. He got his first deer with that rifle while hunting solo and I was the guy he called first from the stand while his 6 point buck bled out. I've since got him on his first hog and first turkey.

All grown up now, working as a paramedic on the streets and lakes of Columbia, SC. Even escorted our governor on a lakefront boat ride. Just told me last week that his wife is pregnant.
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I've never had a miss with a rifke bad enough to stand out as "the one," though I've had several misses.

I had a problem with nervousness shooting at whitetail bucks for a while, many years in fact. Not does, not hogs, not anything on an out of town trip. Just whitetail bucks at home. I'd get so excited when it was time to shoot I'd pull my shot every time. I've pretty much conquered the issue now.

If there's one miss I really hate to look back on, it wasn't actually a miss but a bad shot with my bow on a doe when I was about 22. I had taken my bow for a walk on a overcast day and happened upon three does and a small buck feeding in a clearing. Somehow, I crept to within forty yards of the group. The small buck was closest, something like twenty five yards. The biggest doe was out near forty. I wanted to take the big old doe instead of the little guy. Greedy. He was a chip shot but she was near my max range. I dialed up a perfect shot and a hard gust of wind swung my arrow like a curveball. It hit her in the butt. The sound of the impact was incredible. I trailed her forever but never even found blood. Felt awful and still do.
 
The sound of the impact was incredible. I trailed her forever but never even found blood. Felt awful and still do.

I know that sick feeling. It feels like heartbreak to me.

Happened to me on the first deer I ever shot with a bow. I am not blaming the equipment at all here however I was 14, shooting a fairly low poundage bow, and enamored with a broadhead that did not cut on contact but had a cool name.

I made a bad shot and hit shoulder blade on a doe. She ran off with my arrow having barely penetrated at all. Looking back and having shot or help skinned several deer with old broadheads in a shoulder or a vertebrae I feel like she made it just fine. I sure didn’t believe that at the time.

I never made another hunt with that type broadhead. I got my first bow kill later that season. It was with a cut on contact broadhead that my grandpa had tried to tell me was far superior due to that fact. Fool me once…
 
I have way too many, there's a bunch that come to mind, but the one that seems to pop up in my mind most often, was a whitetail back in 2001. My first out of state bowhunt, southern north dakota. My dad got me permission to hunt this large ranch out there, him and my uncle had bought a few horses from them, and got to be friends with them. Mule deer and pheasants were off limits but whitetails were kill everyone you see. Seen a ton of deer, passed up a lot of bucks, i was holding out for one of the stud bucks i seen. I moved my stand into this little pocket of trees on the backside of an alfalfa field, there were 3 big draws behind me the deer were using to go to and from this field. Last morning, are alarm clock doesn't go off and we get up a little late, make it to my stand at day break. I get in my stand and i can't find my release, my first year using one and the first and only time i have ever forgotten it. As my luck usually is, 20 minutes later the biggest buck I've ever seen, comes and walks past at 13 yards. Being just one year removed from shooting instinctively, and him being that close i figure i can easily make that shot. I was wrong, i cut the hair off of the top of his back. He walked out of my life forever, that rack is burned into my mind forever. Tall, white, big brow tined, 160+ inch 10 point rack.
 
I may have shared this story before, but I'm bored at work so I'm going to share it again anyways.

So this isn't necessarily a miss, but one of my most embarrassing blunders that it should count as a miss.

I was on an out of state bow hunting trip in Nebraska. I had to use the bathroom and I knew of an abandoned farm yard that would make for the perfect place for a woods dump. The farmyard was fairly open but deep on a cedar canyon, didn't think a deer would be around but not the most terrible habitat. When I got there I took my pack off, put my bow down, and started looking for a good place for a woods dump, not being stealthy or paying any kind of attention to anything. I round the corner of the farmhouse, and a seriously giant buck and doe jump up, bedded almost right up against the house, only my toiler paper roll in hand.

I really didn't expect to see a deer here, and I wouldn't have been able to shoot at them even if my bow was with me, but it gets worse.

After my defeated woods dump, I get my pack and bow ready, and mosey back to see exactly where the buck and doe had bedded down. Standing there, I decided to text a friend of mine how I just spooked a giant buck with toilet paper. I'm standing against the house on a cracking concrete pad, bow in my left hand with an arrow knocked, cell phone in my right hand. I'm literally typing the words "I am the world's worst deer hunter" when I look up and see an entirely different buck walking straight towards where the doe was laying, where I was now standing.

I can't just drop my phone because I'm standing on concrete and I don't want to make a thud, so I slowly start to slide the phone in my pocket. I keep thinking the deer will stop or circle but it keeps walking straight at me faster than I can get my phone put away. At about 5 yards we staring at each other and he realizes there's a person there.

The buck takes off, I clip in the release, make the "mawwwwp" sound and draw back as fast as I can. The buck stops at about 30 yards, with one long branch spread perfectly over his vitals. Not an ideal shot even if there wasn't the branch there. We stare at each other for another 5 seconds and he bolts clean off into the ether. I draw back down and take a nice shameful walk back to my blind. Atleast I didn't have to shit anymore.
 
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I have had two missed opportunities, once on a decent buck and once on a terrific bear. Both times because I forgot to chamber a round. When I saw Big Fin's wolf video it made me feel a whole lot better about myself.
 
Last year my dad climbed up into the brand new, HUGE box blind i built on our property, 7x7 with 3 foot walls. Strung between two oaks. No roof. Built so he could get up and stretch a bit during all day sits. Anyhow, his first time in it, he was sitting in one corner when a buck came by just beyond the opposite corner of the square. Think shooting from SE to NW. He pulled up his scoped shotgun, found his mark and then shot the 2x4 rail that made up the top of the wall. Not taking into account that the barrel is a few inches lower than the scope, he drilled the 2x4. Had he shot 3/4 of a inch higher, he probably would have cleared it, but as it went, the slug ricocheted over the bucks back harmlessly.

The funny part is he didn't even realize what happened until he went down to look for a blood trail, Got really angry that he couldn't find one and climbed back into the stand, cutting his hand on the fresh slug scar on the way up.
 
Might be too soon to know if it's my worst miss, but it stings. I was at Bass Pro today and I went behind the counter to see what was available for ammo, primers, and powders. There it was a fully mature trophy pound of H1000. My heart raced and I moved towards the counter so Dale could unlock the cabinet, but some dumbass was standing right there and stole my H1000 right in front of me. I'm still haunted by his voice, he even rubbed it in and said if there was two pounds he would have tagged them both.
 
Worst? That's hard, there so many to choose from.

Let's see I started my missing career at the early age of 15 on the only legal bull I even saw rifle hunting WA, a nice 6, missed at 25 yards with a 300 win. I flinched so hard I closed my eyes and turned my head to avoid the recoil. We had snow and all I ever found was a few neck hairs where he'd been standing.

My career has since expanded to include misses at every animal I've ever pursued. Bucks, bulls, does, cows, lopes, bears, I don't discriminate. I missed them far (450 yards) and close (8 yards), I missed with bow and rifle (never tried a muzzy but I feel pretty comfortable in saying I'd miss with that too). I regret totally blowing at least 4 shots at 3 different >300" bulls in the last few years. I've never had a shot a big deer, but I assume when I do I'll miss.

Some people have ice water is their veins, I have something closer to meth-spike blisteringly hot mt dew.
 
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I couldn't scrounge up the gas money to get there, but had I known the darn things have 4 each, I'm sure one of my buddies down by the bridge would have financed the trip!
Doing some quick math it seems like 1) I’m in the wrong line of work and I should become an amateur truck disassembler and 2) I need to pick up a security marmot to live on my skid plate and keep my truck safe in downtown Billings. Or maybe a security badger.
 
I’m 0 for 7(?), maybe more, on big whitetails in 25+ years of hunting them. My mind goes to jello on the wall-hangers.

Walking tall grass during gun season several years ago and had a big one get up at 20 yards. Missed.

Another time spotted a bedded doe and large buck standing by her at 300. Crawled in to about 120 and missed twice with a scoped shotgun. He eventually wandered off. Didn’t have a range and I think I sailed the shots over his back.

2019 stalked an old bedded buck to 20 yards with my bow. I looked around for about 5 mins, but could not pick out his antlers among the waist-high grass. He eventually spied me and rocketed away.

2016 posting on a drive I had 15 or so does and fawns plus 2 160-class bucks spill right into my lap. I was so dumbfounded I managed to miss my one shot 20 yards broadside at a walking buck with a shotgun. IA party hunting, I could have dropped both bucks.

Injured a nice buck during bow season 2021 by misjudging distance and hitting low. He recovered and lived.
 
When I was 13 I missed an extremely big buck multiple times with my dad watching. He said that's the last time I give you the first shot. Also once was aiming at a deer and with the holdover I accidentally got the irrigation instead.
 
My “favorite” miss, if there is such a thing, was 2013 bow hunting. I had access to 90 acres of prime ground at the edge of town, an old overgrown ball field from the 60’s. My first year of serious practice with my recurve to try and get proficient. I missed 6 does in October sailing arrows over their backs at 10 yards or less from tree stands. I finally killed a mature doe at 0 yards (avatar pic).

In late Oct “Hank” moved in from who-knows-where to hang with a particular doe. Huge body, swayed back, sagging face, and massive, impossibly tall antlers.

I studied that buck’s habits like a book. He would make a big loop through the little town I lived in and walk right by my bedroom window in the middle of the night while I slept.

I played it safe, never pushing my luck on a bad wind, hunting the edges of his route, rotating which trees I sat in. I saw him many times, always a little out of reach.

One early morning while walking in to my stand by full moon our paths crossed where decades ago was once the outfield beyond second base. He just calmly stared, a mere 10 yards away. I backed out and he stood his ground.

Another day I had a 150-class mature buck at 5 yards. I could have ended my season, but wasn’t even tempted.

I took vacation from work Nov 9-17, and hunted every day. One cold morning I saw 8 bucks from my stand, including 2 pairs fighting. One of my favorite days afield. Another day Hank was guarding his hot doe 20 yards away in thick brush for about 5 hours. I had long-since filled my pee bottle, and I got pretty antsy near the end until they finally walked off.

On the last day of the hunt the sun has set, and it was down to the final minutes of shooting light. Hank appears, finally alone and in search of a second hot doe to breed. He would pass in front of me at 5 yards in the same place as the younger buck did, but my shape catches his eye. He hesitates, changed course, and walks slightly quartering away. I draw and try to focus intently on my body position so as to put the arrow in the boiler room like I’d practiced so many times on the Block from an elevated position, and not 18 inches higher like I did on the does.

He stops at 15 and I sail an arrow right over him - that image will be burned in my mind’s eye forever.

He disappeared. Saw him once more a month later feeding in nearby alfalfa, and that was it. The next year the landowner dozed the area to plant a bean field.
 
I belly crawled into some antelope to within 200 yards. Missed the buck. Disgusted, I just went walking after the herd thru the hills as they bolted. Theyd see me, run off over the next hill, slow down, see me again, and wed repeat. Eventually they went over a bigger hill, almost 2 miles from the first shot, I picked up the pace quite a bit, belly crawled to the top, had them at 100 yards or so, much closer, then missed again. Took the rifle to the range a couple days later. There was nothing wrong with it. Ya, that was the worst.
 
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