Well I think most of it was luck. It was the last day of the first shotgun season. I was walking back to my stand and got about half way when a deer jumped out of a thicket on my right. It paused for a few seconds, so I raised my gun. I saw the deer in my sights but did not think it was that big. I could feel my heart pounding through my coveralls. I took my shot but it started to walk away. After the smoke cleared I reloaded my muzzleloader. I did not think that I had hit it. I walked over to where I last saw him standing. We had a light snow that morning. I found one small spot of blood but no more. I stood there thinking I had just nicked him when I looked down and saw his tracks in the snow. I noticed that he was dragging one of his legs in the snow. So I followed his tracks for about 40 yards, when I saw possibly the best sight ever. I ran up to the deer not believing that I had shot it. I rolled him over a few times looking for a bullet hole with no success. He was still limp so I knew he had not been dead long. When I looked at the snow I saw blood, so I looked again for a hole. I brushed his fur back and finally found the hole. I was so excited when I shot that I did not follow him. So I hit him in the back end and it angled toward his left lung. I would say that it was mostly luck, but still something that I will never forget.