EVER LOOK AT A deer hunting magazine and wonder what planet some of those bowhunters are on?

What solar system is it where they find whitetail bucks with beams as thick as your wrist and tines as long as your forearm? In which universe are they shooting bucks with antlers resembling a gnarly oak tree growing in downtown Chernobyl?

Do you ask yourself, "What am I doing wrong?"

I do.

It can be depressing to peruse the pages of hunting magazines and see the monster bucks taken by other hunters. They're mostly normal hunters like us, who somehow, either on purpose or by accident, ended up in the right place at the right time.

The other 99.99 percent of the time, the rest of us are back here on Earth, daydreaming about tagging a 200-inch buck. But we're also smart enough to realize there probably isn't such an animal within a hundred miles of where we hunt.

Then again, maybe he's out there, somewhere. Maybe he transported down from that other planet and will sneak under our tree this fall. Just maybe.

It's that possibility, however remote, that scripts our fantasies. It drives some of us to hunt as hard as we can, as smart as we can, and to pass up all but the biggest buck in the woods. We scoff at the runts, turn an indifferent glance at mere 10-point bucks, and barely consider bucks that would have driven us crazy with desire only a few years ago.

We become trophy hunters. The question is: Is that a planet we really want to visit?

Becoming a Trophy Hunter
Oh, do I hate that word, "trophy." And sometimes I hate trophy hunting.

Most of us go through the typical stages of hunter development. As we become more proficient, we raise the bar. Instead of hunting deer, we hunt bucks. Then we hunt "book" bucks. Then we raise the bar even higher.

I reached that point several years ago, after discovering a 140-class buck in the area where I hunt in Minnesota. I wanted him very badly. He wasn't a monster, but he was the biggest buck I'd seen in that area. I hunted every minute possible, and when not hunting, I was scouting for that buck.

I finally got a shot the Saturday after Thanksgiving, after convincing my wife I shouldn't have to go to the in-laws for the holiday. I gave plenty of thanks for that buck (and my wife's tolerance) and never before experienced such a feeling of satisfaction for accomplishing a goal in hunting. It was an unforgettable, even addictive, moment.

Since that time, things have not gone my way. Nothing bad happened on my hunts because nothing much happened at all. No matter what I did, or how hard I hunted, things did not work out. Hunting trips to Kentucky and Illinois produced no shot opportunities at worthy bucks. Hunting excursions in states surrounding my home failed to provide any shots at decent bucks. For three years I could barely find a respectable buck, much less kill one.

Now, go back and re-read that last paragraph. Pick out these three words: worthy, decent, and respectable. Do you see the problem?

What kind of attitude is that? What makes a buck unworthy? What determines whether a buck is decent? What buck out there doesn't deserve respect? Ask yourself those questions, and then ask one more: Do you really want to be a trophy hunter?

Only you can answer that question.

Measuring Potential

I asked those questions of myself late last fall. I had three tags in my pocket, one each for Minnesota, North Dakota, and South Dakota. I'd been hunting hard, skipping from one state to the other, depending on wind and weather conditions. Finding a buck that met my inflated standards was, once again, proving difficult.

The long-term effects of a devastating winter in 1997 were painfully evident. We lost a lot of fawns (and fetuses) in our region that winter, and there was a decided lack of 3 1/2-year-old bucks. That's my personal problem, I know, but it brings up the question of realistic potential.

Let's face it, not all regions of this continent produce whitetail bucks that would rate the cover of a magazine. There are places where such bucks can be found easily, but those places are managed strictly for trophy bucks, and you'd better have deep pockets if you plan to hunt there. There are other unique areas that produce big bucks, and some of the hunters who consistently kill huge bucks are merely fortunate enough to live near, and hunt in, that "right place." Good for them.

That's not to say a bruiser buck can't be found in a neighborhood near you. But you have to ask yourself: What is the realistic potential of my area? A 150-class buck? A 170? A 200? Or is a 125-inch buck the most you can reasonably hope for?

Only you can answer that question.

Having Fun
The next question I asked myself last fall, while sitting in a tree for the umpteenth hour was, "Am I having fun?"

I wasn't sure of the answer. That is the idea isn't it? To have fun? I enjoy every minute in the outdoors, but enjoying yourself and having fun are not the same.

If all you do is sit in a tree and feel disappointment because nothing "decent" walks your way, that's not fun. If you never shoot a buck because you're waiting for something "respectable" to come by, what are you missing?

Well, you're missing the thrill of a pounding heart once you decide to take an animal. You're missing the experience of drawing your bow under intense pressure, concentrating on the spot, and making a good shot. You're missing those post-shot shaky legs you used to get back when you were having fun.

And what about those anxious moments after the shot, when you're focused on the fleeing animal, taking mental notes to be used when you take up the blood trail? I love that part of bowhunting as much as those moments before I release an arrow.