I'm a trophy hunter, and the trophies can be horns and bones, or pictures, or simply memories of experiences...or wonderful meals. Because every hunt is also a meat hunt, I have shot plenty of animals that would be considered non-trophies, but the hunting experience was great and was its own trophy.
My local deer rifle hunt starts in a couple weeks; I have only one tag, good for any deer, and I want to end the season with meat in the freezer. So my perfect hunt will see me outside all day every day, looking for and hopefully finding a big buck, ideally in the last few days of the season. But it that doesn't happen, I will absolutely take a smaller buck or a doe in those waning hours. And, if a bruiser buck presents himself on the first morning, I will take him...I'm not nuts!...but I will begrudge the quickness of the hunt.
A few years ago, after a bad winter, we had no doe tags available. I sat through every day of the season, pretty much every legal hour of shooting light, and on virtually every day the same small spike buck walked right past me, or through the adjacent field. At first, I just enjoyed watching him visit, but as the season progressed, I began to look at him differently. He became so regular, so consistent every day, that when the season neared its end I continued to hold out for a big one. On the second-to-last day, when the little guy came by to say hi, I raised my rifle..and then lowered it. I felt lucky.
The next day, the final day of the season, I sat in my favourite stand and waited. The little guy...didn't show up. Neither did any other legal deer. I ended my season trudging home in the dark empty-handed.
The next morning, as my wife and I enjoyed an early morning coffee in the den, she looked up and said "Don't look outside!"
I looked outside; a beautiful mature buck with a wide, heavy rack was trotting purposefully up our driveway. He passed by the window, coming so close to the deck that I could have touched him with a rifle barrel if I was on the deck. My stomach churned a bit as I watched him round the corner of the house; when I went to the back door to watch him disappear into the field, I frowned a little...
Later that morning, I went out to my stand to bring back a few items that I had left out. I walked in the tracks the big buck had left. He had walked past my stand at a range of less than 50 yards.
So...I had no deer meat that season, which was a big disappointment that lasted much of the following year. But...the memory of that entire deer season is one of the best trophies I have ever collected.
