A few seasons ago, I had a great opportunity during bow season. I was hunting in an area where I had seen several nice deer the previous season, so I set up a bow stand there. One evening, just as light was fading, a very nice (for the area) 8-point stepped out into the newly-planted food plot at 35 yards. I raised my crossbow and let the bolt fly. The deer jumped high and into a thicket. I was not sure if I had a hit, but later found my arrow and it was a clean miss. The other club members named the deer “Almost,” and my nickname became “Trophy.”
I pursued that deer the entire season and had many pictures of it, but I was always a day late or a day early. Late in the gun season one morning, I heard the crack of another member’s rifle. The text came in shortly after: Almost was down. He was shot while carelessly crossing a pipeline during the rut. I was happy for my buddy, but there will always be some remorse thinking about the season that I “almost” got my buck.
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