It was late October in northern Minnesota. I was in my 20's and hunting my 4th deer season. I didn't grow up hunting. My brother and I picked it up out of thin air and it was mostly grouse, squirrells, etc. at first. My parents were supportive, but neither had ever really hunted themselves.
At this point, I was hunting with an ash self-bow that I'd finished the year before. It was a cold morning and I'd been sitting in a woodlot for a couple of hours, freezing my butt off. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I got up and started walking around a bit. I found myself in an area with 6 or 8 rubs all around me. I was just thinking to myself that this would be a good spot, when I heard a crash. A doe was running toward me. I knocked an arrow and crouched, but she angled off to my left and passed out of range.
My adrenaline was just returning to normal when I heard the sound of footfalls in the leaves. A young buck (looked to be a fork horn) was walking down the doe's path and heading my way. For some reason, this one didn't veer and was coming right at me. Finally, at 10 yards, he veered a bit to my right. There were saplings in front of him, but there was an opening coming up at about 6 yards. When he was almost there, I drew the bow. Of course, he stopped with his head in the opening and his vitals covered by trees. He turned and looked right at me. I was pretty nervous to begin with and trying to hold the longbow at full draw was making me start to shake. Thankfully, after 6 hours or so (10 seconds), the deer decided it was ok and he took a step into the opening. I concentrated on that spot right behind his leg and released. At the shot, he bolted. I wasn't sure I'd even hit him and I watched him run 40 yards, then stop and look around. Just as I started to worry that I'd missed, he started to sway and then went down.
I was shaking pretty hard, but I was also really excited. I was just trying to get my breathing back to normal, when I heard a deep, guttural grunt. I looked up to see a huge, wide-racked buck coming down the same trail, grunting as he came. He looked serious and was coming directly towards me. When he was about 10 yards away, I decided I'd better let him know I was there, so I stood up. He didn't seem to care and kept coming. At about 6 or 7 yards, I started waving my arms and yelling at him. He stopped, looked me over for a few seconds and decided to split.
He ended up being a basket-racked 8 pointer and after working hard for four seasons, it felt pretty great. Still makes me happy and grateful to think about it.