My first one was a doe, accompanied by her (large) fawn with no spots. It was late in the season, and the guys I hunted with were all shooting rifles. I was hunting a long, narrow food plot, from an elevated platform about 12-15 feet high. They strolled down the middle of the plot at about 18 yards, with momma in the lead (which was kind of surprising, looking back). I drew my 45# Hatfield, and let fly an Easton aluminum with a NAP Thunderhead on the front.
I hit her really high in the lungs, just under the spine, and watched the arrow sling out the other side as she ran off. Most of the blood stayed in her chest cavity due to the high hit. Luckily, she ran straight back up the plot the whole way before peeling off into the woods. I found a single drop of blood at about 50 yards, and started trailing her through some of the thickest, nastiest swamp thicket you could imagine. No help. It was a Sunday evening and everybody else had packed it in and gone home.
She went probably 150 yards through the thicket, but I found her. I'll never forget that I took my contacts out (thank goodness for LASIK, haha), and changed to my glasses. I must have knocked my darn glasses off a dozen times crawling through that thick crap and dragging her out. I was cussing and sweating, but I was happy. And I wouldn't change anything except that I would have like to have been in the hero pic with my bow and the deer, haha! May have to see if I can dig that picture up. I've never sold or traded a single bow I have. That Hatfield is now my bowfishing rig, and I love it!