I hunted a HARD week, the last week of the season, it was absolutely freezing out but I was getting deer action so I kept at it. For three consecutive afternoons a small group of does caught me up in my stand and I adjusted each evening to try and get in to a better position for a shot. On the fourth evening I put on a ghille suit, on top of everything else I had on and went way high in a tree. About a shivering hour before dark three does appeared from the holly brush behind me and started to circle around. The first, and smallest, broke out in front of me first with two bigger ones behind. They had no idea I was there this time. I decided not to wait and drew on the first doe and released. The three of them bounded away stunned and the one I shot at stopped about 30 yards away looking around, flicking her tail. I hung my head in a miss and said good bye to the season when some rustling to my right made me look. The small doe was rubber legging it and flipped over, stone cold expired. I hit her and didn't even know it. My arrow zipped clean through her. I climbed out of my tree in shock and held my first trad deer. I worked for it, and earned it.