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Share your bowhunting heartbreakers...I'll start.

The 1st season I ever bow hunted was in 98 or 99. I knew very little except that I could shoot well at a target & that I wanted some antlers on my wall.

I spent most of October in a tree stand in a draw w/ a hill on both sides of me. The deer would walk on the hills, look over & see me every time. I was right in their line of sight. I knew very little about scent elimination other than what I had learned from trapping in teenage years. It was now early November & had a bottle of Tinks along w/ me. I decided to stay out of the tree stand, emptied that bottle of Tinks about 30 yards all around me & buried myself in a brush pile. I waited & waited. I see this buck on the hilltop far away. He caught wind of the lure & started a full speed sprint across the field right to me. I swear my heart was in my head it was pounding so loud. He stopped at about 30 yards and was standing perfectly broadside, big thick 10 point rack, big body, shooting light fading fast. He had no idea I was there. I was shaking so bad, NOTHING like shooting a target for certain, I watched the arrow sail about 6" above his back. He was gone, no 2nd chance. But I didn't injure him & did learn from him :)
 
Glad I'm not the only one with some infamous memories made in the field... This one's lengthy but I tell it like I remember it, and I can still recall every small detail of that night.

2007 was season I was very optimistic for. I'd been doing my homework, I knew of some pigs running the area, and had learned a LOT about the farm I was hunting and how to hunt it. My season got off to a running start with a couple does and lots of good sightings, but my heart was set on one of two mammoths I'd seen during the summer, one was a mid 160's class true 8pt. and the other a main 10 with loads of junk. Call me stupid, but I even had the nuts to pass on a upper 140's-low 150's 8pt...not once, but TWICE!

In early November though, I got my opportunity on the bigger 8. I'd planned on doing some rattling sequences that afternoon but never got the opportunity because literally the second I got in the stand I had does ALL OVER ME! No less than 10 and as many as 25 with some dink bucks mixed in came and went that night. Live decoys as I saw it, and they drew him in. Good thing was that by the time he came in the does had mingled themselves way out of range, so I knew if I could somehow pull him away my odds were good, as I had an open field in front of me and no longer had several sets of doe eyes to bust me when I draw. A couple grunts from my tru-talker followed by a snort wheeze pulled him in. He walked parallel with the field edge to exactly 30 yards directly in front of me. I drew successfully and did my best to literally get surgical with my arrow. My release was flawless and I watched my arrow tipped with a 100gr Montec bury itself to the fletching in what I thought was the honey hole at just over 30 yards with the buck slightly quartering away. He took off like a bat out of hell. I sat in my stand for about 20 minutes and calmed down, made a few calls, and gathered up my gear.

By the time I got to my truck a friend had arrived. It was dark by this time so my plan was to mark the blood trail just a ways into the timber and let him sit. So off we went and had blood spotted in no time, GREAT blood...bubbly, bone fragments, the works. Well, at that point in time I threw my plan out the window, he couldn't be far, so we pushed on. 100 yards into the blood trail something jumps up and takes off. Couldn't be my buck, could it? Another 50 yards later and we found out it was. How, I don't know. The pool of blood where he'd been laying just out of sight from my stand was monstrous. It was pooled up in leaves, sprayed all over the trees, everything. But he wasn't dead, so I stuck an arrow in the ground and pulled out in disbelief. The shot kept running through my mind but I just couldn't figure out what went wrong. I'd never been so confident.

So of course it was a sleepless night and I was up at first light with two friends to go claim my trophy, which I was sure had to be dead. We picked up right where we left off and had no problem following the rest of his blood trail. Like any lengthy blood trail it alternated between spotty and good, but it was visible nonetheless. Follwed it about a quarter mile right over the tall bank of one of central Iowa's many rivers, drip drip right over the side. I'd never been so sick to my stomach. The next several hours and couple days was spent searching several miles down stream in the rip rap, shallows, and log jams...along with the other side of the river at probable places where he could have got his footing back and trucked on. I even grid searched the big timber and tall grass field on the other side. Basically I looked everywhere I possibly could. Nothing, he was history.

After lots of contemplating I came to two conclusions. First, I believe my shot had to have been a little forward. I think I was tricked by where I saw my fletching as it was a little farther back than what the point of entrance probably was, most likely still catching one lung, but we all know how tough those big bucks can be. Second, I think he died in the river. Regardless of the shot, he lost a LOT of blood. Most likely he just drifted away, as he went in at a pretty deep pool not too far below a dam, where the current is a little more swift and the river does't make quite as many bends. I was obviously hearbroken, but little did I know I would have another in just a couple short weeks, probably the worst of all...
 
Come on guys, I know there is more than this. Let it out, just let it out! It's almost therapeutic!
 
Last year I had a heart breaker during early muzzleloader. The particular place I hunt I had to shoot a doe before I could shoot a buck. Well as luck would have it I had a 193-200 inch main frame 12 with a total of 18pts at 25 yards in a bean field that I watched for 5 minutes without a doe down. It was all I could do not to shoot him, he would of been by far my biggest buck, but I let him go. He had no clue I was there with the gun on him and the safety off. I watched him walk 300 yards away across the bean field into a small woodlot. He also had 5 other bucks with him with the biggest being a 150s 8pt.

Then to top it off 25 minutes later I shot a doe. That evening I set up on him on that small woodlot and the 5 other bucks came out well before dark but he was a no show. My buddy got him in November with a bow and I was extremely happy for him. He scored 193inches gross and broke off some most likely putting him at 200inches when he was standing 25 yards away from me. It was a tough decision to say the least. It would have been perfectly legal for me to take that deer of a lifetime, the worst that could have happened is I wouldn't be allowed back on that farm again, but when you got a good spot, its hard to give it up.
 
One of the biggest bucks I have taken a shot at in Iowa was behind that little tree.

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Okay, so here's the last true heartbreaker I experienced.

It took place a few short weeks after the river swallowed my world class 8pointer. I had finally gotten permission for a good friend of mine to hunt with me on he same farm. So as soon as we got word it was a go we took another stand out and put it in a big dead elm sitting basically in the wide open, 20 yards from the edge of the timber, 20 yards from a picked cornfield, smack in the middle of a cow walkway. Risky, but I knew if I could be super attentive and prepared that it could be one of those spots where things could happen. This particular tree was only 200 yards to the north of my other stand. Unfortunately, we were somewhat late and had to rush putting the stand up and didn't get lanes cut like I would have liked. I had my gear right there though, so I climbed up and my buddy parted ways.

10 minutes later I recieved a text from him stating that he had two shooters in sight, but couldn't get anything to come close. I no sooner than closed my phone and I heard the leaves crunching as a deer was approaching quickly. I grabbed my bow and heard a deep grunt while doing so, game on! He crested the hill and stepped out of the timber at about 35 yards, and man was he a toad. He took his sweet time in investigating his surroundings, allowing me ample time to investigate his headgear. Best I could tell he was a main 5x5 with deep split brows and 2's, along with several good sized stickers and kickers. Probably around 20 points. Loooong 2's and 3's, mass throughout. Conservatively estimated him in the mid-190's. He decided it was safe and pressed on, stepping right into my shooting lane, 25 yards. I drew, and calmly settled my pin, looking right through it once it was centered as I've always been told to concentrate on the target. I released and watched my arrow give him a hair cut right above and behind his shoulder. Sickening! Of course he trotted off and I was again left in disbelief. It was then that I saw a small diameter branch (twig) nearly cut in half, only hanging by a thread. Apparently when I concentrated on the buck I blurred out the twig. Same as how I can't see my string when looking through my peep.

I have no doubt in my mind that if it weren't for that twig I would have smoked him. But you know how the saying goes, "you can wish in one hand and **** in the other." Well, you get my point. Once again, lesson learned.
 
My heart break happened during the rut of 08. I was sitting in one of my favorite stands we had pics of some real nice bucks and one iowa monster. As i was sitting there i had hit the calls a couple of time just to see what was in the area, 10 minutes after i rattled a nice 8 (The Texas 8) walked out he was on the list to kill not alot of mass but tall and wide. So i draw back he steps into my shooting lane and right as im about to let it rain i hear a grunt. I know he didnt grunt and my buddy was in a stand about a quarter mile away so it wasnt him. I look behind the Texas 8 and there stands a 145'' 10 pt that is also on the list he is following the exact same steps the first buck was on so i slowly let the bow down and sure enough walks out and stops perfect shot 20 yards. Same song second verse right as im about to let the arrow fly out of the corner of my eye there he is The Ugly Brute he is about 165''-170 non-typical 13 with a body built like a mack truck. So i let the 10pt walk and start to wait for the monster to follow the same trail the other 2 did. He gets closer and closer and then about 2 maybe 3 steps from my shooting lane he lays down behind a brush pile he laied there for two and a half hours just laying there never even looked at me never sniffed snorted or anything just sat there. Trying to keep my cool about not cutting shooting lanes there when we had the chance i wait with him. About the time light runs out and i cant see my tru glow sights anymore he stands up paws at the ground steps into my shooting lane and then walks off into the river bottom. I never saw him again till about 3 weeks ago when he and about 60 others were out in one of the neighbors fields feeding. All i can hope for is that i get to see him again this fall.
 
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Well, it seems like most of us have a "one that got away" story. I could go on and on and on with heartbreaking close encounters and rookie mistakes I've made while 15 feet up. It's taught me a lot though. I hesitate to say I wouldn't change anything because clearly there are some shots I'd like to have back, but it's all played a part in my story, and I'm still at it....
 
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