. This should be interesting. Back in 77 my first year archery huntin in potter co Pa. We didn't have climbing stands so we just looked for a tree we could climb and sat on a branch, well my dad got me up one and he climbed up one about 50 yards from me. Well just before dark a doe ended up about 20 yards from me so i pulled my 42# recurve back aimed and let it fly smack i thought o boy i got her. Well when my dad came and got me out of the tree it was about dark and i told him i hit a deer well we went back to camp for tracking help and lanterns and the fellows at camp asked are you sure you hit her positive i said i heard the smack. Well we get out there after about two hours of lookin no blood or arrow one of the guys starts shining his lite up in the trees low and behold theres my arrow 12' up a birch tree those guys chased me all the way back to the truck the one thing they all agreed on was i did hear a smack :D. Whats your worst.
Joe

1979 Archery elk back home in Oregon when I was 19. Could easily hit a pie plate every time out to 35 yds, no sights, w/fingertabs. Practiced every day, religously.

6x6 bull standing still, broadside, WFO at 23 yds. put an XX75 right over his back .

Man, them antlers were soooooooooooo big !

pickaspot, pickaspot, pickaspot, pickaspot. and
drilled a spike a few days later ....

Sako

It must have something to do with Archery! In 84 I was up by Tahoe in the Republik of Kalifornia, on the ground and had a nice 6 point blacktail waiting for my arrow at @ 20 yards, I also shot right over his back and stuck a 4 pointer that I had not seen that was lying down. I tracked that 4 for over 2 hours and finally found it and had to put another arrow into him to end it all. He wouldn't have lasted much longer.

As you said!!!

pick a spot pick a spot pick a spot pick a spot pick a spot

i got you beat

12 point buck at 5 feet. he walked up behind me and spooked me while i spooked hin. i grabbed my pistol from my belt and blam blam blam.

no blood, no hair, no deer.

i assume hes still running

Welcome to the huntingnut Spacedone sit and stay awhile .

I guess mine would have to be last year on a 180 class 10 point at 200 yards missed him cleaner than a whistle and to this day don't know how I missed him.

The best clean miss I saw was a friend who begged me to take his room mate hunting. "He really needs the meat" was the reason given to me. No problem, the appointed day arrives and I ask the roomie what he is after. "Anything, I just want meat in the freezer"

So we go to one of the spots I know, put him onto a herd of 30 or so Mulies, some small bucks and a few LARGE dry does at about 125 yards. He doesn't like any of these deer because he "wants a good buck".

I ask why he did not say this from the start, as meat in the freezer and a good buck are two different things. Well, I know where there are a few 150 to 180 class 4X5 and 5X5 mulies hanging out, so we head there.

I tell him to set up on the edge of a draw, warning him to NOT SKYLINE HIMSELF. I will head down to the bottom and push up the draw towards him. I tell him to KEEP HIS EYES OPEN, as there may be a few late comers moving into the draw from the upper end.

I push up the draw, and coming around a clump of brush, see a 190-200 class 6X6 not 10 yards away. Looking at the top of the draw, where the roomie is standing skylighted perfectly against the sky. I call the roomie an anatomical name under my breath and the buck hears me and heads up the draw away from me. I yell to the roomie"there he is, take him!". I hear the roomie say"where?" I yell "Right in front of you!".

What follows is incredible. The buck stops at 75 yards from the roomie, BOOM! He stops at 125 yards BOOM! He stops at 175 yards BOOM! he stops at 225 yards BOOM! He stops one last time at 250-275 yards BOOM!.

Not a hit, not a puff of dust any where near the buck.

I ask him if he sighted the rifle in. "Yes"

Has he dropped, bumped, or otherwise dinged the rifle and/or scope? "No"

"But" he says "I did take out on an ATV with a friend last week, it got really dirty and muddy, but I didn,t ding it on anything"

I ponder if maybe he got some mud in the barrel or something, but he says "No, I cleaned it real good, I even took the scope off to get the mud out from under the mounts, ...but I put it right back where it was"

After a few minutes of stunned silence, I inform him that he needs to sight the gun in again and that it is most definately time to go home.

I called up my friend later and told him to never ask me to take someone hunting again.

In 1991 it was raining (bow season) with an 8 pt. directly below me so quietly was able to draw and a rain drop fell inside my glasses, i jerked a little and "thought" i was back on target, then i let er fly and there he flew.....clean miss by 3'!

In 1998 I hunted Alberta , The outfitter said your guide will be my son.
The son and talked on what to do the next day. He said just after daylight
you will see 1 or two 8 pters about 130-140 shoot them if you want but there is a monster in there.Well I chose not to shoot and 7:30 the monster about a 170-80 buck showed up at 100-125 yds , i shot , he junped
no blood no nothing clean miss . I still have nightmares.

Back in 2001, I decided to hunt Ontario with some friends, it would be there 3rd year, my first, anyways we would be hunting clear cut's and power lines. Anyways numb nuts (ME), at the last minute finds away to go, I rush and check my gun across my dad's farm field. I want my 7mm mag sighted in for 250yards. I say that's about 250 yards, site it in. Shot a nice 2 3/4 inch group. Well I miss a 150 class buck standing broad side at 140 yards. Couldn't believe it. Shot over it......got back home a my 250 yard target was lasered at 345 yards !! ..........

Bowhunting many years ago and shooting with 3 fingered glove. I pulled back on a nice 8 point that was right under my stand. I managed to roll the arrow off the rest when pulling back and the arrow dropped straight to the ground and stuck straight up. The buck jumped but did not run. He eased over and sniffed the nock. Whew! I must have smelled like a rank human being. He went out of there like he had a full race cam and a nitros system onboard! All I could do was cuss under my breath. LOL
yotebuster

Hi

Well - Ok - this isn't archery, but my best worst shot: 1) Wasn't MINE, and 2) Wasn't a MISS!

While in the Army, I (Sp. 5 Sohlstrom) was out with Sp. 4 Don Bonham, probably the best shotgun shot I've ever met, and Sp. 4 Joe Wertz, an interested and enthusiastic first timer.

We'd seen a few good meat deer, all of which Joe had spooked off by enthusiastically indicating their position - jumping up and down and yelling.

"There! There!! There's one! OH! OVER THERE! There's ANOTHER!!"

Like that.

Well, after we got him interested in the locate-and-sneak-up-on style of hunting instead of the run-over-point-and-yell style - and it took a while as he was VERY enthusiastic - we came upon a real beauty standing at the far edge of a big clearing with his head down in the tall, dry grass.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I was spotter on this hunt. Don was THE MAN when it came to the fine art of the shotgun. I, being a fair hand at a running kill, was there for the backup shot that we ALL knew would never come.

ANYHOW....

We hunkered down in the tall grass and talked about our tactic.

The wind was being cooperative, steady and gentle from our half-left. Don was going to pick a line that gave him a clean and clear shoulder/boiler-room shot. I was going on the left flank because that was the way the deer was facing, and we figured that if it bolted, there was a good chance that it would bolt right into my line of fire. Joe'd take the right flank and pretty much watch and learn, and if the deer took off away from me and Don, take the shot if he REALLY, REALLY thought he could make it. (Joe really was a pretty good shot. The Army does that to you, after all...).

So Don and I snaked off through the grass, with Joe off to our rear and far right. We made our way in on this beautiful buck, literally one inch at a time in the long grass.

When we got to about the 40-yard mark, Don indicated that I run out to the left, so I snuck off while he took a long hundred count.

After I'd been in position for just a few seconds, Don came up out of the grass as slow and quiet as a puff of smoke. He took careful aim, then fired!

The deer popped its head up, looked straight at Don...

THEN PUT ITS HEAD BACK DOWN IN THE GRASS!

We waited, frozen in place, not even BREATHING for a bit. I stood up out of the grass (not quite as smoke-like as I'd like, but hey, I've always been more like an inversion layer than a puff) and looked at Don.

He shrugged, held up his hand with five fingers extended, and then chopped his hand down towards the deer. Move up 5 yards.

Back down into the grass for a long hundred count, inch by inch, five yards up.

A few seconds after the long-hundred, Don wafted back up out of the grass, aimed and fired again.

The deer did not move!

Not a BIT!!

I stood up a looked at Don again, and he signaled another 5 yards, and double-chopped his hand towards the deer.

We weren't quite as sneaky this time, and foot by foot is more than 12 times faster than inch by inch.

We came up out of the grass and Don fired again. Nothing. The deer was stationary.

Don shrugged, indicated another 5 yards, and just started WALKING through the high grass.

I stayed on his flank behind his line of fire and just kept UP with the boy.

When he came on position, he just aimed and fired. No art. No sneaky. Just walk and shoot.

NOTHING!!

He finally just started waking up on the thing, so, being a natural-born stumble-bum, I crashed and clattered up through the grass to keep up with him.

When we got up to the deer, it STILL didn't move. We looked at the thing and noticed it had FOUR HOLES IN IT: One right over the heart (I'm figuring the first shot, you see...), one at the shoulder, and two covering the spine and hip.

The only thing I can figure is that Don's first shot had killed it where... well... where it STOOD, and, somehow, it JUST KEPT STANDING.

We took the poor multiply-shot, over-killed deer back to the unit and dressed it out. Don had hit EVERY shot he fired, and had hit EVERYTHING he's shot AT, and four rounds from a big 12 is just too damn much firepower for ANY deer.

We didn't get ONE MOUTHFULL of useful meat off of him. There were bone shards EVERYWHERE.

So, as I said, my best worst shot: 1) Wasn't MINE, and 2) Wasn't a MISS!

Like the last story it's not exactly what you are looking for, but.

On my first Antelope hunt I went with two other guys. Armed with our rifles and double tags we knew we would get some shooting. Spoting and stalking several groups during the day we came upon two does about 165 yards up wind of us with no idea we were there. I was decided two us us would slip up to the top of the rise and shoot together at both does. Simple. We krept up through the grass took aim and on three pulled the triggers. My Antelope dropped like a sack of seed. The a second shot and a third. The third partner in the group started yelling to shoot the doe before it runs! On the forth shot the doe is still standing and my buddies gun is empty. All three of us were sure the doe had been hit. I took a fast swing and pulled on the doe.

Walking up on the antelope I found my doe neatly dispatched by a shot to the heart lung area. However the second doe had less than perfect shot placement. My 100 grain bullet entered behind the ribs expanded and exited just infront of the far side rear quarter. The over spray of green that covered the prairie was less than pleasant. Unfortunately only one bullet had struck the second doe. Mine.

So it wasn't a true miss in the general sense of the word, but I sure didn't hit where I wanted to.

Two lessoned relearned. 1) only shoot one animal at a time 2) regardless of the urgency to shoot, the bullet that hits the mark is the one you want to take.


longwalker

In my early days of hunting - think I was 15 or 16, a buddy and I were in South East Wyoming and we hunted near a big private ranch, we would wait for the deer to come off the guided hunts and jump the fence into our area. About 9 am I had three bucks looking at me standing shoulder to shoulder, the one on the right was a nice 6x6, thick base etc.. put the scope on the animal and shot, I had gotten so excited that I had actually scoped the one in the middle and dropped him with a shot right beween the lookers, it was a 3x3. The two deer on the outside turned a 180 and jumped the fence and took off over the hill- I heard a mess of shots over the hill.
While I was gutting my deer, two men came over and asked if I could help them, I went with them and saw they had dropped the one I meant to shoot and his runnin' buddy was a nice 5x6. About his time my buddy had joined me, did I fail to mention that we had both been injured in a football game the day before, I had 13 stitches on my chin and he was sporting a nifty neck brace - we were quite the sight. My buddy cussed me the whole way back to the truck about him not minding draggin a 6x6 back to the truck, but the 3x3 was, well shall I say I got an earfull. I had nightmares for years re-living that "buck ever" moment.

I have remained really good friends with my buddy, even though he used such hash language on my fragile ears. That same buddy came up to my house this year and we took his son out deer hunting for the first time. Both he and his son shot fork horns, I was able to repeat his words to me some 20 plus years ago..."I wouldn't have minded dragging a 6x6 out of here, but a 2x2..." TAG he's it!

Not really a clean miss...I never shot.
I was elk hunting by myself, and was walking back to where the group was when I disturbed a huge cow elk that had been hidden in the brush by a small creek.
She ran out into the open for about 75 yards, then turned and looked back at me. I had my cross hairs behind her shoulder, when I saw in the scope ---a herd of cattle behind the elk. I could have taken her easily, but didn't feel good about the chance in 10,000 that something would go awry.

I got a smaller elk about an hour later.

I still try to convince myself it might have been O.K. to take that shot.