There's certainly nothing wrong with having a trophy on your wall, but when did the size of the deer ever determine whatis and is not atrophy? Trophy animals are those that are harvest after many hours have been put in the field scouting, setting up, sitting, and patiently waiting your turn. Trophy animals are those you would gladly tell stories about at the campfire, detailing the season and how hard you hunted for it. If the story consists of "I saw this huge buck and shot him", you may have a big deer, but you don't havea trophy.

I can honestly say I have been in a situation like thisbefore where I could have taken a massive 12 point. Probably one of the largest and most symmetrical deer I have ever seen. I had been watching the deer most of the season, and passed up a couple of opportunities early on because I wanted him to be able to share those magnificent genetics of his with the does in the area. Most of our land is leased, but this particular place was not because most people think it is too open. So I spent a lot of time here, mostly after coyotes, but I saw the deer occaisionally. He was very careful to stay hidden until right at the end of legal shooting hours. So about two weeks before the season ended, I started spending a little more time trying to locate him. I caught a few glimpses of him occaisionally, but nothing within my comfortable shooting range, which for deer is 150 yards. I saw him nearly every day, but he never followed the same path into the wheat field I was overlooking, and I was never able to guess his path into the wheat field. On the last day of the season, I didn't see him. I knew no one else had gotten him, or I would have surely heard about it. As the light faded, I headed for the truck. As I turned on the lights and headed down the pasture road, I caught a reflection of something as I neared the gate. It was him, standing broadside, mesmorized by my headlights. I dimmed my lights and watched him for minute as he stood there. His eyes glowing in the headlights, and that magnificant shiny rack of his made him look almost like some mythical creature from some fairy tale. Then he slowly walked away, disappearing like a ghost into the brush. Even though I had my 30-30 loaded and by my side, all I thought to myself was "Looks like you've made another season, my friend."