A good number of years ago, a friend invited me up to his families place during the late season to help thin the herd of some Does.

I' d never hunted there before, so he set me up in one of his fathers ground blinds he used for rifle hunting.

After getting seated, I drew my bow and swung a wide arc to check for clearance problems. Cool! Nothings in the way!

After about a hour I watched a lone doe meander down a shooting lane directly in front of me. She came in with-out a worry in the world, and began browsing on some old sugar beets about 15 yards out broadside. I waited for her to drop her head and when she did, I drew and released.
At the same time the bow jumped and I heard a wierd WHACK.
Next thing, much to my horror, I see my arrow flying wildly off course and impacts the Doe high, just in front of her hips. The Does rear legs immediately fold under her, and she is now dragging herself by her front legs blatting.
My stomach knots and a sick, sick feeling envelopes me. I stand quickly nocking another arrow, step out of the blind, line up on the heart and let it fly.
It hits home. It' s quiet now.
I return to the blind, sit and gather up my nerves. What the hell went wrong I' m saying to myself. I draw the bow again, and swing around, nothing. I relax the bow and follow the arc back, and sure enough, the lower limb gets brushed by a branch protruding back from the front of the blind, at the exact spot where I had released...

That was the last hunt of the season for me, and the whole incident has haunted me since.

In fact, right now, there is a tremendous heavy feeling tugging at my soul from recalling that day when I took things for granted, and didn' t pay attention to the small stuff...