All was quiet for a few minutes, and then I heard movement in the distance. I was afraid that the buck would lose interest in the area, so I used my bleat call and then replicated some tending grunts to keep him hanging around.

It got quiet again, and all I could do was pray for all I was worth. I repeated the calls, and this time I heard leaves crunching. I called a third time just before daylight when I heard leaves crunching in the distance. I believe I was just trying to keep his curiosity up.

I have never used a call in the dark before. I realized later that if he had come my way at any of those times, it could have been disaster.

As dawn finally arrived, I was able to see deer browsing around me. Suddenly, a large set of antlers came into view, and the tines seemed to glow in the dark. Soon the buck's body became visible along with the outline of another doe. It was not legal shooting light yet, but he was within range and moving between the two does.

As daylight came on and I was getting ready for a shot, one of the does suddenly walked straight at me and stopped directly under my stand. The buck followed until he was also under me.

SO CLOSE!
I froze, because I was only 12 feet off the ground. I'm sure it was shooting light, but I had no shot except straight down. Timing my movement with his, I was able to look at him just as he raised his head and smelled the estrous-scent pad I'd set out. He was so close I could hear him breathing. He let the doe keep walking and, with a huffing noise, turned away into the heart of the thicket.

I had no immediate shot, but was completely awestruck by the way he moved his head though the brush -- it should have been impossible for a rack of that size. Bobbing and weaving like a prizefighter into the thicket, he was temporarily out of view. Everything got very quiet again.

During that time I was able to catch my breath and glance at my watch. It was almost 7 a.m., and there was now plenty of light but, unfortunately, nothing to shoot at. I was preternaturally calm as I scanned all sides of the thicket intently, but saw nothing and heard nothing. I knew he couldn't have been more than 25 yards from me.

After another 10-minute wait, a doe (possibly one of the previous does) walked up. It stood broadside in the shooting lane closest to where I believed the buck to be. My crossbow was already pointed in that direction, and I had used a rangefinder the day before to confirm that it was 18 yards away.

I looked through the scope and thought to myself: Oh, how I wish that buck was in the cross hairs! As if he'd read my mind, he quickly emerged and chased the doe through the shooting lane, quartering away. Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger.