NOT LIKE ON TV

I started seeing deer at first light. Three does were under the apple tree. Two more came from the woods. Another bunch came across the road, dog barking. By 7:30 am I bet I'd seen 15 does. One skulking through the woods at a steady clip looked like a buck, but I never saw horns. Then, off to my right a decent sized doe was heading for my stand. I clipped my release on the bow string and waited. By the time the doe was standing right under my feet, another had appeared in front of me and two more behind me. I leaned to my left, hugging the tree, drew back and fired. The deer crashed through some brush to my left and took off up the hill. 50 yards out it stopped, slowly turned and headed back to me, now farther out. I saw blood coming from her side. I had hit her way too far back. But she was quartering away, so I felt confident I'd hit vitals. The deer laid down, head up. She was too far for a second shot. I waited for her to die.
45 mins. later, she got up, stumbled, got up again and disappeared into the pines. Fuck! Wounding a deer is bad enough. Losing a wounded deer is every hunters nightmare. I decided to back off and call Savage Lynch. He said the hit sounded good and that most likely if I just let her lay, she'd die. Nonetheless he was willing to drive up the mountain with his dogs Bonnie and Duchess. Bonnie could use an easy one. We found the bed and as soon as the dogs got on the trail a doe jumped up. It was my deer. Fuck again. She crossed the road and ran across a big lawn. I knocked on the door to get permission to follow the deer. The increasingly horrified look on the woman's face, as I explained my dilema, said it all. "YOU WOUNDED ONE OF MY DEER?" Tears were welling up in her eyes. Luckily her husband stood behind her, calming her and assuring her that it was the ethical thing to do. Now I felt worse.
It didn't take Savage and the dogs long to spot the deer under an apple tree not 10 yards off the lawn. I'd warned the woman that she may hear a shot. Savage pulled his scoped .357 from it's holster, as I held the dogs. He shot. He missed. He shot again and hit it in the ass. "She was curled up." he explained. "I was aiming for her head. I put 6 shots in a pie plate at 100 yards." I believed him. But he couldn't hit shit at 10 yards. "Give me your knife." he said. My old man explained that it was a Lynch thing. "Now you know what I've been putting up with for 60 years with his father."
When I went back to thank the PETA woman, her eyes were red and swollen. "I've been crying all this time." she moaned. I told her she'd done the right thing. She said she didn't know how I could hunt. She wasn't angry. Just perplexed. I didn't know what to say to comfort her. I thanked her again and left. It's part of the deal when you hunt. Once you let that arrow fly you are committed. A miss is a miss. But a hit means a kill one way or another, if possible. If it wasn't for Savage and his dogs I easily could have lost that deer. It wasn't pretty but it was successful. Tomorrow is the 13th. I still have a buck tag. Lets hope I can put the arrow where I want it.