Just about every hunt with my Dad the last 15 years.
Funniest was one morning on a hunt at a state park that was commissioned for thinning out the population. Spike or doe ONLY. We had been sitting some distance apart, but I got bored, and went to go talk to my dad, whereupon a very nice 8 point came walking along at a good pace. While my father and I cussed our luck that such bucks never seem to some to us when we could shoot them, it came to about 35 yards, and just about stops.
We are at this point speaking in conversational tones, not even trying to lower our voices. I say something like "Oh, for pity's sake, just GO!", and he looks up from where he's been browsing, looks affronted, and slowly wanders off. We never got a shot at a doe or spike the whole hunt.