This story by Dean Reynolds was published in Archery magazine, July 1960. Dean calls it Bucks at Dawn.
It was morning in the Uintah mountain, I tossed a handful of chips on the cold remains of last night's campfire. A miniature cloud of fine ashes churned up to fleck my shirt sleeve. Two or three more times I blew before hidden embers discovered the fresh fuel and unfurled a wisp of fragrant smoke and hungrily tasted the wood with eager orange tongues.
As I added more fuel, the fire quickly responded. Its dancing light filtered through thin walls of the tent and mischieviously danced with shadows across the eyes of my sleeping partner. The flickering light distured his sleep. He opened his eyes . A sudden thought raced through his mind. Today was the day and tomorrow and next week and the next. With unaccustomed eargerness he rolled out of the sack into the chill, pale starlight of early morning.
"Morning, Dean," he yawned. "I'll warm up things tomorrow morning while you lay in bed."
"I won't hold you to that," I said, "I don't minind a bit getting out early. Especially on the first day of archery season. Let's grab a bite and get at 'em before daylight."
Ten minutes later we separated. My partner, having drawn out on an elk permit, moved off to the west to scout for elk as well as hunt his buck. He was immediately out of sight. I listened a moment to his fading footsteps and then turned my steps to the east, working my way up over a small hogback and down into a draw which is one of my favorite spots. There is a belt of aspen growing up the bottom of this draw, and on each side in several places there are pointed growths of them growing up the hillside. I wanted to be in one of these points of quakies come daylight, but right now I was having a time of it in the darkness. I guess I swore a little before I had made my way down into the gbottom and up out into easier going.
I crawled the last few remaining yards to within a hundred feet of the end of the trees which ended among tall sage and service berry bushes. A gentle, but chill, north wind was finding its way down my neck past my left ear. I reached up and fastened the top button of my shirt while noticing the sky lighting up in front of me to the east. Now and then I could hear a bird chirp out hesitntly as if it was forbidden. I settled down in a fresh deer bed which was free of noisy leaves and dry twigs to wait for daylight. I knew some good bucks were bedding in here, because I had kept an eye on them the past couple of days. One of them was a dandy four-point with antlers polished so well the tips were the color of a well-used bone knife. Ten minutes went by. I could see 50 yards now down into the trees where a robin was beginning to uncork his throat strings. I squirmed uneasily as the chill ground soaked through the seat of my britches an raised goose pimple up my spine. Now that I could see a little, I thought I'd better get into a more favorable position for shooting, and also get behind a little better cover.
As I rolled over to the left and palmed my bow to move up the hill a bit. I caught the dark outlines of five head of deer on the skyline ahead. As they stood etched against the purple sky, I could make out that they were all bucks. One of them looked huge in the poor light, and he was nervously looking back over his shoulder as if spooked by hunters below. Their hooves clicked faintly on stones as they moved off the skyline and into the deep shadows moving my way. I couldn't see them for a few minutes, but as the light increased spotted them moving along the fringe of the threes to my right. The large buck still showed signs of unesiness but the smaller ones seemed to be only curious, and I imagined they repected what his decision would be. They hung back a little, however , as he moved into the trees with long, stiff-legged strides, pushing up little mounds of dry leaves with his front feet. He didn't like to come in cross-wind as he was, but neither did he want to stay exposed out in the open.
Other creatures were now making themeselves heard. Several robins in the trees behind me were talking among themselves. A lengthy rustling in the leaves turned out to be chipmunk as he hesitantly moved along and ended up in the same bush with me. My nose itiched at that moment and as my left hand came up to scratch it, he ran up along a branch and stopped. We stared at each other from 2 feet with my left hand caught in mid air. As my arm got tired I slowly started to let it sink back down but he caught the movement and jumped off the limb onto the ground and went chattering down the hill with the dry leaves flying up behind him.
My attention jerked back to the buck. He had stopped as he heard the chipmunk, and he now stood behind a cluster of trees not 20 yards away. One antler swept out into view, all that's all I could see for a minute as I searched for a target. All I could find was his left hind quarter. Not a very good target, but as he was facing in my direction I figured I had been spottd and had no choice but to try him. My bow was already in the vertical positin with the end resting on the ground, so I started a slow draw then he moved, trotting toward me at an angle. He didn't know I was there. I was at full draw now, and I held it. Eight steps in front of me he stopped with his shoulder exposed. In the bad light, I thought he was the largest deer I had ever seen. Being uphill from me he seemed to tower over me, and his great antlers thrust into the sky. With a crack my arrow took him right where I was looking, even thought I had not been conscious of loosing it. He bounced out to the edge of the trees and circled them. A hundred yards away he stopped for a second and then dived down the hill into the trees....dead.