In the wake of the evening’s sunset, a few shades of blue sky are all that remain from another fall day in the north. As they stubbornly submit to the twilight, pockets of cool air begin to drop, invisibly collecting in the lower areas of the field. It’s right about now that the forest always rouses with movement. And the span that deer hunters dream about.

I sit motionless, alone, watching and waiting. From my hiding on the treeline, I scan for movement, hardwood forest on my right and lush alfalfa patch on my left. My hand slides gently forward, checking the safety position on my Huntmaster crossbow to make sure it can be found again at a moment’s notice.

I had been invited to attend this deer hunt two months ago. UFFDA was holding its third annual group hunt for disabled bowhunters in Park Rapids, Minnesota, and fate had somehow added my name to the list. I don’t know how, but I wasn’t going to argue with it. Being from Texas, one of my biggest dreams had been to hunt this part of the country. I’d heard that the animals are huge and the scenery is spectacular. Both, I’d found, are true. Mix in the fact that it would be my first bowhunting trip ever and there was no way I was going to miss it.

Two deer tacitly slip from the edge where a shallow draw runs into the trees. They join three others that have made it out by the time I notice. One, two, three, four... and, five, all doe, casually nipping at the ground some two hundred yards away. I watch intently though there’s no way they’ll make it over to me before dark.

I’m used to sightings like this though. On previous trips, I've seen about ten deer each time out. They simply love this alfalfa pasture. It's carved right into the surrounding timber, a perfect sanctuary for’em to feed. Had all the deer I saw not been does, I could've taken three shots, but I had this crazy notion to wait for a buck. Well, not today. It’s the last hunt and the next shot I get I’m taking it. Truce is over.

A waning moon rises in the east, brightening with every tick of my swiss army watch. With a mere five minutes of legal light left, the only traces of sun are clinging to the highest strata of clouds, supplying them a lingering pinkish glow. The woods are black as a raven’s eye, leaving the clearing as my last fading chance for success. But it doesn’t look good. There are no deer in the vicinity and they’re gonna have get out there in a hurry. I suddenly think back to my forsaken opportunities. ‘Had I done the right thing by waiting? You know how passing on shots can anger the hunting gods.’ No matter though, my hunt’s complete either way. Made by the host of new friends I had and the myriad of things I had seen, and smelled, and heard for the very first times. A red fox wandering by the roadside; a pair of loons serenading the twilight, and I’ll never forget the freshness of the forest, or taking cover amongst its kaleidoscope of maple and spruce, poplar and jack pine.

A twig snaps. Then the thump of a hoof. Deer? Something is definitely getting closer. In a rush I lift my bow to a ready position. The clamor of steps grow. Leaves rustle... then progress halts with a protestant stamp. Deer! Yes. Problem is they’re too close and have to cross over me to make it to the open. I’m in the way. A raucous snort caps my fears and a flash of white rump bounds away in the darkness. ‘Oh, so close.’ When I dishearteningly turn back to in front, she’s there! A huge doe ambles cautiously to get a better look at the obscure figure. A faint whistle stops her. I lean into the sight and... pull. My arrow rockets away, passing straight through its mark on the rise. My target bolts for the opposite side of the field, taking what seems an eternity before reaching the other side. There the deer takes its last fading breaths, stumbles and drops on the edge.In moments, I can hear my guide, Russ, on his way in to pick me up. We celebrate as I relay my tale from the back of his atv. And then again when we come upon my first Minnesota whitetail. Albeit a doe, she's a trophy nonetheless. The excitement still whirrs inside while Russ begins the field dressing. Afterwards, we’ll head back to camp to rejoin the group where a hot supper waits our return, along with other hunters who are eager to share their accounts. Tonight, I’ll have a story to add.