I drew a deep breath and froze in an uncomfortable position. I might have waited like that for 10 minutes, but it felt more like a half hour.

Finally the doe stood to stretch and looked down on me. She gave a low snort and scrambled into a patch of grass with the others. Deer began to boil out of the brush, including a small buck we hadn't seen.

The deer milled on high alert, stomping and bunching. That's when I saw antlers floating through brush to my right. It was my buck, and only 30 yards away!

I drew on him several times as he weaved through tamarisk, but couldn't find an opening big enough to thread an arrow through.

In my desperation, I scrambled ahead a few yards and spooked another doe. She snorted and ran through the middle of the bunched does, and my buck trotted to them. Then he paused.

I still had no lanes. I made a last-ditch move in plain sight of several does. The buck walked stiff-legged, ears pinned. He seemed to be headed toward a small gap I could use as a lane. I popped off a couple of ranges on the does I could see. The distance wasn't encouraging.

I jerked my bow to anchor and waited, but he didn't clear. I let down and crawled to my left. Suddenly the buck appeared in an opening, at a range that caused me to balk. He was way out there, but it was a shot I could make -- in a calm backyard on a warm summer's day, that is.

I came to full draw again but hesitated, my bottom pin automatically finding its place. I urged the pin into the wind a bit, thought it through one last time, and let the string slip away.

The arrow was away, but the buck spun. I lost sight of the arrow half way to the target, but heard the hollow slap of its metal head hitting something fleshy. The buck whirled to run hard, with his head down and his tail tucked tight.

Does scattered in all directions. The original herd apparently had joined another. Dust and grass spun away on the wind. And then there was nothing.

We waited an excruciatingly long time, and finally I crawled out to look for my arrow. Franklin joined me, but there was nothing in the high grass. Soon we were standing, ranging in circles.

Franklin let out a low whistle, and I went to him 80 yards further up the creekbed. He'd found blood.

We proceeded cautiously. The farther we went, the more blood we found. Still, I had to wonder what my arrow had hit. The blood, instead of inspiring confidence, only served to produce more worry.

After another 100 yards, I began to think we'd gone entirely too far. But then we rounded a bush and nearly stumbled over my deer, all 300 pounds of him.

He was the biggest-bodied deer I've ever laid hands on. His neck was as big around as a 5-gallon bucket. The burliness actually served to make his antlers appear smaller.