1994 or 1995, I was either 14 or 15, hunting above the dump behind my old house with the kid down the street. I had a doe come trotting past, at around 20 yards, he followed. He wouldn't stop, so I took the moving shot, quartering hard away. The arrow hit just forward of the steaks, and angled up into the lower chest cavity. The entire length of the shaft stayed inside the deer, with the broadhead lodged in the inside of the low ribs.

I knew it was a bad hit, so I told my friend that I was going to go walk around for a while - and try to move some deer for him.

He got bored after a couple hoursof not seeing anything - and got tired of waiting for me...So,geniusdecided to head over to my stand and trail my deer - and found it laying half-dead in the stream by the dump. He cut its throat and came to get me. He acted like I owed him a life-debt, as if he did me some kind of great favor... Meanwhile, I was totally furious that I didn't get to find my first buck.



Here's a digital picture of a 35mm photo that I have in my photo album.