Last year's bow season was my first year to really go out and try to bow hunt. I was successful in bagging two deer and a turkey, but the number of arrows it took me to do so was embarrassing. So this summer I set out to become a better shot, determined to make it count when the time came next season. I shot 3D tournaments every weekend and practiced during the week. By the end of the summer I had improved greatly, and more importantly, I was confident in my shooting ability. I knew that when the opportunity presented itself in the fall, I would be ready. Little did I know how glad I would be of that practice.

It was the second weekend of the Missouri archery season, and the first opportunity I had to get into the woods. The first cold front of the year had conveniently blown in and I knew that the deer had to be moving. We had been having little luck seeing deer move, and when we did, it was usually in the middle of the day. I hunted Saturday morning and evening, seeing only one deer between the two. Sunday morning I froze as a north wind blew in my face and it cut through my jacket like a knife. Sunday afternoon was warmer, and I decided to go to my stand a little earlier since the deer had been moving the way they had.

I got in my truck at 3:00 to make the short drive through the field to the woods behind my house. My husband had hung the stand, which I had yet to see, and I followed his directions down a draw and onto an old logging road. I had no problem finding the lock-on stand hanging about 20 feet from the ground. Tying my bow to the rope, I shimmied up the tree to the stand. Tree steps were in place, but having rarely hunted out of stands higher than 15 foot, and never out of a lock-on stand, I prayed I wouldn't fall as I pulled myself onto the platform. It was clear that the steps were for someone much taller than I. Finally I settled into the seat, and with seat belt in place, I could relax a bit.

After pulling my bow up, a Hoyt Havoc set at 55 pounds, and getting everything situated, I began my silent wait that I had done so many times before. I took in my surroundings and began to judge distances and plan possible shot openings. The logging road was 20 yards directly in front of my stand. About 50 yards behind me was the dried-up Frederick Creek that only this spring had been flowing and deep. Most of the leaves on the trees had yet to turn and they blocked the view of most of my right. I would have to have any deer stop in the right spot to keep from having to aim through a small hole in the branches.

My husband had hunted this area for the last few years. The stand location seemed to be in a perfect spot, on a seemingly well-traveled logging road, near a grove of white oak trees. Deer came by often to feed on the acorns. A scrape line had run up the road and had been freshened every fall. We hunted the stand a few times in the rut but never saw any decent bucks. Knowing there had to be a good buck in the area, we decided this year to try and catch him before the rut, while he was tending his scrapes.

I watched squirrels for about an hour while every crunch in the leaves made my heart jump, only to look and see a gray flash shoot up a tree. Then I heard a crunch from further away, a sharp step, slowly coming from my right. As I listened I knew this was a deer. I could not see down the logging road where the steps were coming from, but I figured it was safe to go ahead and stand up. I stood slowly and tried to turn in the direction of the sound. My seat belt stuck, not letting me turn. I reached around and wiggled it loose and then listened. It was still walking my way. I had to fold the seat against the tree to make room for me to stand and draw. As I pushed it with my leg it squeaked. I froze. The deer kept walking. Slowly, I pushed the seat, hoping it would be enough to stay quiet. I became off balance as I continued to push on the seat with my leg.

I forgot about the seat when I saw movement in the brush to my right. Then I saw white antlers. That is all I saw for a moment. A huge rack. I watched as the buck slowly made his way down the logging road. I have only bow hunted for a couple years, but I have gun hunted for 13, and I had never seen a buck like this one from my stand. Tines seemed to go everywhere. I gawked at the deer for a second when suddenly reality hit. I had a huge buck 20 yards from me and he was fixing to step into an opening. Still off balance, I drew my bow. I followed the deer with my pins until he stepped into the opening and stopped. He spun and ran as my arrow struck his shoulder. The first thing I thought was that I had shot him too far forward, in the bone, but I had not heard a sound like that when I shot. I calmed my breathing, which I just now noticed, and listened. He made a ruckus as he ran up the hill in front of me. I prayed that my shot had been true as I heard a crash, and then nothing. Had he gone down? He hadn't run very far.

I began to shake as I went over what had happened in my head. It had been like a dream, like watching a hunting video. I could not believe what I had just done. Then I worried about the shot. I thought I heard him go down, but the shot seemed to be forward, and I thought I had seen the arrow sticking out his side with poor penetration. But it had happened so fast, I could have been wrong. I waited for about thirty minutes before lowering my bow and climbing down. I took the long way out to avoid jumping a wounded deer and walked to my truck to call my parents.

My father and mother had come to visit and go hunting for the weekend. When my mother answered the phone, I told her I had shot a buck and wanted them to come and track it with me. When they drove up, I explained the shot and what I had heard. We decided that we would go and look for blood and decide whether we should wait longer. Walking back to the stand, I retraced my shot and found where the deer had run off the road and into the woods. The blood was sparse at first, but as we entered the brush it became heavy. Not ten feet into the trail I spotted my arrow. It was in three pieces and covered in blood. I had seen the broadhead sticking out; it had almost completely passed through. The bubbly red blood showed a lung hit and I knew that the crash I heard had been final. We followed the trail about fifty yards when I spotted a white belly and antlers sticking up.

The buck lay dead; the shot had been a bit forward but very true, hitting both heart and lungs. I was amazed as I looked at the buck and realized what I had done. This was a buck of a lifetime. I had only dreamed of seeing deer like this, never really believing it would happen, especially in southern Missouri. We dragged the deer to the field and took a roll of film as I proudly held his head up and smiled. The buck had twelve points, ten typical points with a double brow tine and a kicker on the left side. He was gorgeous to me. We scored him at 158 gross; he would easily make Pope and Young, a feat I had dreamed of accomplishing since I started bow hunting.

I was already hooked on bow hunting, but now I love it even more. I don't know if I will ever top this year's kill, but I will always enjoy waiting for another chance. Until then I still have a doe tag and two turkey permits, my season has just started, and I can't wait to get out there again.