When I was 16 I was hunting for some deer out behind my house in the woods. We hunted for food all the time, so it was a normal thing for me. Anyway, I climbed up a nice tree overlooking a game trail. I was about thirty feet up and had my 12 gauge shotgun with a slug round loaded and ready to go. After a few hours a buck came along, a nice 8 pointer to boot. As it turned out, the branch I chose to sit on was just below a squirrels' nest. And just when I was about to shoot they attacked me. I flung my arms back to sheild myself and fell out the tree. After I hit the ground, two squirrels ran back up the tree. I got up and started shooting at them when I noticed my back was a little wet. I looked down and saw that I had crushed a third one when I landed. So I picked it up and went home to tell everyone. Needless to say, my buck got away, that time. I may not have got the buck, but I had one hell of a story to tell.