Ole Scarface the doe is nervous as I had ever seen. She starts to head back the direction she had came and gets broadside 18 yards. Slowly walking I make fawn sound as I draw. She stops, I draw hit anchor release. It's a swing and a miss. Arrow sails right over her back. She bolts. But the fawns stay put. I recover from my miss quick. Nock another arrow and start watching these two fawns. The one I decided to shoot closest to me stayed at all the wrong angles then slipped into some thick brush no shot. But the other works around and ends up broadside at 8 yards.
I had been staring a hole thru this deer. Drew anchor picked a spot and my fletching disappeared right where I was looking. This deer was dead on its feet. Shot took out both lungs complete pass thru.
I watched as it made a full on death run for about 100 yards and started to collapse as it reached my thicket.
It was just before dark and had been raining all day. Wasn't much of a blood trail as the deer was hauling the mail. I did manage to find a little but saw it laying dead just inside the thicket.
What I thought was a young fawn turned out to be a button. I swore no fawns this year for this very reason but after a long November of shots past and questioning what I was doing. All those questions were answered when I admired this young guy and took time to appreciate the shot made. Thanks for reading this long tale about a little button buck. It sure did set my mind right. Its gonna make some great table fare.