I remember my mentor uncle and I were out walking, not hunting anything, just looking around and talking. I had my .338 WM (as usual) and he had his Sako .223, also as usual. He was awfully good with that rifle, I watched him shoot a sage hen out of the air with it after I missed with my 12 ga! So we're walking along and suddenly he stops and says, "Give me that cannon!" As I hand him the .338, I'm looking where he's looking, trying to figure out what he's seeing. I can't see anything but rocks! I was sure it was something significant because he doesn't much care for heavy recoiling rifles. He takes careful aim while I'm still trying to figure out what the devil he's looking at. Boom! I see where the bullet hits on the side of a huge boulder but still can't figure out what he was shooting at... and he is not one to miss! I stand there like a dummy as he hands the rifle back snd says, proudly, "There. I just killed the biggest rock in Lassen County!"
He was like that, used to make me crazy at times! But those were sure good times! I got him back a couple of times, too. Stories for another day.
Cheers,
crkckr