For a bowhunter, a moment like the one I experienced a few seasons ago is the highest of highs. Walking slowly along the field edge, straight at my stand, was a buck with a wall of tines. He was one of the biggest whitetails I'd ever seen, which surely explains why, even though he was still more than 100 yards away, my breathing turned ragged. But this jolt of delirium was short-lived. When the buck was 60 yards out, he circled into the field and picked up the scent I had left on the tall weeds on my way in. That was all it took-he was gone.