Sometimes you can't even call it stalking.
I went out yesterday morning and everything was going normally. I parked the car, got out, strapped on my bum bag, got the rifle out, loaded it up, opened the tail-gate, got out my sticks, clipped the dog to my belt, closed the tail gate, put on hat and gloves, locked the car and went to start walking away from my vehicle. Before I'd even got as far as the headlights I noticed a roe running towards me over the field. I had a quick shuftie through the binos and sure enough, it was a buck. About 150 metres away he turned to his right and was now running obliquely accross my front, broadside on. As soon as he was in a shootabe position I was going to give a whistle and stop him but I didn't even need to do that. Just then a doe came trotting over the rise and he stopped to look at her; in just the spot I would have picked to stop him. I put the rifle over my driver's side wing mirror and shot him over the car bonnet at about 160 yards. The whole scene unfolded in slightly more time than it's just taken you to read this.
Lets hope I'm as lucky with the lotto ticket I bought on the way home!