I was 15, and my brother was 13, and we were stalking with our bows near the river not too far from our house in Northern California on public land. We saw two young forkhorn blacktails enter the river jungle, so we split up to try to get around them and get a shot at one. As I was slowly stalking my way around , I spotted a huge 4x4 feeding toward me. When he got about 30 yards away, I tried to draw on him, and he spotted my movement, and jumped into the brush. Shaking and cursing under my breath, I looked up to spot another young 3x3 feeding across out in front of me, about 25 yards away. I was shaking so bad when I released, that it was a miracle the arrow went anywhere near him, but he went down about 10 yards from where I hit him, and it was all over!
I hollered for my brother, and his reaction was something along the lines of "holy cow, you got him"!

That was 33 years ago, and I have never been able to curb the addiction