Consequently, I spent hours the next day following a blood-trail that ran through the middle of a thicket and ended inside one of the ugliest swamps around. Unfortunately, my son's first bow kill had vanished without a trace and there was nothing I could do to take his pain away. Our family and friends meticulously combed the entire area for the next two weeks, but the deer was never recovered and my son was devastated to say the least. However, like most good deer hunters James eventually picked himself back up and learned from one of hunting's most painful lessons. In fact, he hunted even harder and finished out the season with two really impressive bucks. As a father, I am very proud of you son for hanging in there and turning things around!