Just about a month ago, I went deer hunting in California. I moved from California to Texas, so our family had plenty of friends there, and a man named Daniel (the names have been changed) was one of them. He lived in the valley, close to the cashe creek golf course, where me, my dad, Daniel, and his son, Mason, went hunting. On the first day, I saw a buck. I jumped out if the jeep, cocked my rifle (7mm-08), snapped the bipods into place, and used a rock as a rest. I shot, and missed. The second time, I hit it in the lung, causing the deer to drown. It weighed 175 pounds (with the head, skin, organs, etc.) it was the first deer I shot, and I was proud of myself