It was opening day of rifle season 1999. I was 16 years old and very excited because I had a doe tag in my pocket. At first light I heard my pop shoot. He ended up shooting a small spike. As is tradition, when my Pop or I shoot the other stops hunting and goes to help the hunter that just shot. I decided to wait 15 mins and then go over to my Pop. As I was waiting, I noticed three does running towards me from the west. The largest doe came running through at 35 yards. I bleated at her, she hesitated, and I let her have it. A shot through the heart/lungs put her down within 50 yards. The neat part was that I was using my grandfathers 30-30 from 1946. Gramps used it, my Pop used it, and then I used it. If that gun could talk.