Tommy Suiter had already drawn his bow and was about to pick a spot when what he thought was doe-burger on the hoof lowered her not-so-feminine head.

Had he not been drawn and only seconds away from loosing an arrow, Tommy might’ve blown his chance at what turned out to be a massive buck with tines fit to spoke a wagon wheel. The two were 40 yards apart, and the deer had no clue.

It was a Sunday afternoon with 2 inches of snow on the ground. Tommy and his wife had been shopping, and there were a couple of hours of daylight remaining when they returned home.

Eager to watch the sunset from a tree, he quickly showered and headed out the back door with his bow, climber strapped to his back.

“As I neared the crest of the hill behind the house, I slowed down and peered over at the nearest tree line,” he said. “There stood a very large deer right at the edge with its head up in some honeysuckle. I thought it was a doe and figured ‘Why not?’ It was close to the house, standing broadside and only 40 yards away from me.

“I couldn’t believe it when the deer dropped its head, revealing a massive rack,” he added. “I quickly took my eyes off the antlers, lined up my pin and released the arrow.”

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Jonathan Dennis learned two things in December: that "failing to take a state record to a taxidermist" might be a crime in Grenada County, Miss., and that a shoulder mount ain't cheap.

While Jonathan knew the buck he smoked last year was bigger than any he'd taken previously, he had no idea of its true stature until a neighbor, who happens to be a sheriff's deputy, saw it.

"When I showed it to Jeffrey, I thought he was going to fall down," Jonathan laughed. "He actually got in my truck with me and MADE me take the deer to a taxidermist.

"I've never been a fan of scoring or taxidermy, even though I always save my racks," he added. "I have a storage box full of them. I've killed at least a dozen 150-class deer, but I've never had any mounted."

But seriously, he doesn't mind paying for what he calls a big dose of luck.

Jonathan usually hunts out of treestands. But faced with no climbable trees in a place he so dearly wanted to hunt -- beside a trail used that very morning by a buck he was certain was responsible for some extraordinary rubs -- he had no qualms getting down on his belly like a reptile.

When he discovered the network of rubs and where several trails converged nearby, he found the perfect tree for his climber. But when he scaled and hunted from it, he saw only small bucks and a few does, day after day.

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It’s a good thing Troy Tate packed his rifle when he returned to Kansas in December 2010, even though the avid bowhunter never intended to unsheathe it.

The only reason he carried it afield that one day was because the wind’s direction was completely wrong for sitting in the stand closest to where a buck he’d hunted all year had been seen entering a field 24 hours earlier (and 24 hours before that).

Rather than push the deer off his 80-acre lease, Troy -- thankful he possessed a tag good for either -- chose bullets over broadheads for his 11th-hour hunt.

The Louisiana hunter wanted that buck the moment he found its shed antler the previous spring. The neighboring landowner had found the other side.

Eager to see the former wearer of the impressive sheds, Troy hung new stands and trimmed shooting lanes that summer. He returned for two weeks during bow season and was tempted by several great whitetails, but the big guy never showed.

He went back in December. And while all the locals were hunting with rifles, he chose to keep bowhunting.

“I hunted from daylight ‘til dark for six days and never saw the buck,” Troy said.

Acting on a tip from a friend, he decided to watch the field where he’d found the shed.

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Rob Thies must’ve sounded like Troy Landry from “Swamp People,” only without the South Louisiana accent.

Instead of wrestling an angry alligator on a line, Rob and his 9-year-old son, Trey, were deer hunting in Indiana, and they were staring at huge buck just 17 yards away that was about to leave in a hurry.

Rob couldn’t understand why the boy, usually quick on the trigger, was just sitting there.

“Shoot it ... shoot it,” he urged.

It’s a good thing the deer wasn’t one to ask questions later. It stood frozen in place, cartoon eyes staring at the duo atop the ladder stand.

“Finally, I looked over and saw Trey squeezing the muzzleloader’s trigger like mad, and then I realized the hammer was not pulled back,” Rob said. “I told him to relax for a second, and then I reached over and cocked the gun.

“‘Shoot, shoot, shoot ... now,’ I told him, and then there was smoke,” he added.

It was Nov. 14, the second day of Indiana’s 2010 firearms season, and the Thies were hunting the 100-acre farm owned by the family of the boy’s best friend. Trey had already opened the season with a bang, drilling a fat doe on opening day while he and Rob shared a stand on his grandparents’ farm near Aurora.

Had they thought to reload after Trey shot the doe, he might’ve also tagged the buck that had been several minutes behind her.

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