Brad Robins writes, "After seeing a few nice bucks in a certain Oregon coast clearcut all summer, I couldn't wait to get to the October rifle hunt. I saw this guy and another 4x4 in the clearcut during the elk bow season. This further inspired me. I went to this cut four times before I could get a clear evening, due to the coastal clouds always present. On the last time, the clouds were absent. I hiked down to some rimrock and commenced to scope out the hidden bowl.
After twenty minutes, I spotted a smallish buck and a doe. I then spotted this buck's forehead and horns. I didn't have a shot. I grunt called 4-5 times. He stood up. With such a steep angle, I couldn't shoot off of my lofty perch. I shimmied over to my left about 5 yards and rested my rifle on a burned out stump. My sight window gave me a quartering towards shot at 250 yards. As my crosshairs settled on the bucks neck/shoulder area, I touched off a shot. At the report, I gathered myself and viewed the spot he was just at. GONE! I then scrambled over to my perch and grabbed the 12 power binocs. Nothing!

I did a quick assessment. I had better go and confirm either way. I chose to hike up and out then drive to the base of the steep cut. With a headlamp, packframe, rifle and a gulp of Pepsi, I headed up the cut. I had landmarked the buck with a huge car sized boulder that was covered in moss. I had to hike up a hog's back ridge then hit flat elevation west to the boulder. I immediately saw the white underbelly and one eye of the blacktail buck shine in my headlight's beam. On inspection, I was 4 inches to the left of my aim. He never knew what hit him as the 130 grain, .270 bullet took him in the upper neck area.

He is a 4x3 with eyeguards. Fourteen inches wide and 13 inches tall. I took him with a .270 that my Dad had given my Grandfather while on leave from the Navy in 1958.