Sooner or later, you'll make a bowhunting blunder that will sting like getting snapped with a wet towel. For me, some of the most painful pangs have occurred on tremendous trophy animals. Here are but a few of those stings -- and the lessons I have learned from them.

Keep Your Shooting Form
Creeping along in sock-covered feet in northern California's alpine wilderness, I eased down a steep set of benches where three Pope and Young-class Columbian blacktail bucks chewed their cuds. Focused entirely on these bucks, I didn't notice the considerably larger buck resting much closer to me. As soon as I saw him, I knew it was the giant buck I'd glassed from long distance the night before -- and judged would score in the top 10 ever killed with a bow.

Instantly he jumped from his sandy bed and bounced down the mountain. But then he stopped, well within my effective shooting range. I estimated the yardage and was starting to draw my bow when I noticed a tree branch blocking my shot.

Cautiously, I sidestepped -- once, twice, three times -- until I finally had a clear shot at the still-standing buck. Once at full draw, I had a brain lock and forgot everything I knew about shooting an accurate arrow. Quickly I got my pin on the buck and flung my right hand out and away -- as if the string was on fire -- to release the arrow. The arrow drifted wide right, whizzing harmlessly past the buck's nose, and that gut-wrenching sting of regret quickly settled in my bones.

The problem? I was thinking more about killing that buck and how great of a hunter I'd be with such a trophy blacktail to my credit -- the outcome. Instead, I should have been thinking about the procedure, the shot sequence, and concentrating on the steps of good shooting form. The most successful bowhunters don't change their routine when shooting at game. They shoot just as they do every arrow in practice -- deliberately.

Trust Your Guide -- and Your Mind
On a chilly September morning, I was chasing elk in the Big Belt Range with Central Montana Outfitters. My guide, Jim Kirkpatrick, and I had hunted hard for more than a week. We'd had a couple of close calls but no shots. At sunrise on the last day, we spotted a huge bull silhouetted on a ridge about a mile away. This bull looked like one of those elk shown in a calendar -- the ones with the digitally enhanced antlers.

When hunting with a guide, trust his judgment. He has experience with the species and the area he guides in. Also, trust your own judgment. Never let past failures enter your mind. To maintain your confidence, dwell on your successes.

About two hours later, drenched in sweat, feet sizzling, and completely exhausted from the fast-paced hike, we approached the bull's core area, and when we peeked over the ridge, we saw the largest elk either of us had ever seen. His antler mass was incredible, and his tine length and main beams seemed to sweep back forever. Jim and I both thought he'd score more than 400 inches.

Numerous other elk milled around on the brush-pocked landscape as I ranged the herd bull at 63 yards. Aiming for 55 yards would do the trick. When the big bull walked out into a small clearing, I drew my bow and found my familiar anchor.

Just then, the bull turned and started feeding toward me. No shot. I let down and waited.

Approaching the edge of some thick brush, he paused broadside with just one pine bough dangling exactly where I needed to aim.

"Shoot!" Jim whispered with an urgency I felt in my soul.

"I can't," I countered. "There's a branch in the way."