Had a 9-shot, one-shot kill at about 450 yards.
I'd walked a couple of miles from camp. Saw a buck meddling with a doe across a little valley. I sat down, got comfy, and started guesstimating range. I figured, oh, maybe a tad over 400 yards. Breeze from my left, from in front of the buck.
So here we go: Hold for a tad over two feet of drop, and on his nose. Bang. Nothing. Bang. Nothing. A couple more frustrations, and he picked up his left hind toe and sniffed. Hmmm. More distance, more wind. Hokay.
Four more shots. Nothing. "Nothing" is getting frustrating.
Doe gets bored. Bucky gets bored. She leaves. He meddles around a bit and then starts down the hill toward me. After a bit he stops and poses really nicely, facing me and head up.
I hold just above his horns; the breeze has quit for a moment; I touch off Ol' Pet. Bang-whop-flop. Hit low in the breast bone. Not quite three feet of drop. An '06 drops two feet in 400 yards, roughly...
Gut Bambi. Walk the two miles back to camp for truck, feeling happy.
Drive truck to near Bambi. Load Bambi. Truck won't start. Walk to camp, get battery from my VW bus. (Street radials won't live to get to truck.) Walk with battery to truck. Batteries are heavy. Feeling unhappy.
Get to camp. Hang up Bambi. Take off boots. Stare at campfire, drink sixpack. Get happy.
Lesson: Hunt from truck, preferably one with a good battery.
Outside of that for long shots, one 400-yard prairie dog. Much less adventure.
Art