It happened to me for the first time tonight. After a three hour wait tucked into a gorse-lined forest edge, 'my' buck finally emerged from the forest edge. I call him 'The Ghost' as he has a very pale coat, and he's so elusive it's as though he's made of nothing more than mist and imagination. I missed him a month ago, and in my imagination he's just got bigger and bigger. Every time I've been out since with the rifle he's eluded me, despite me seeing him several times, but tonight I had another opportunity. At the sight of him though, my heart started beating so hard I was sure he'd be able to hear it even over the roaring in my ears. I finally got it under control, set up for the shot off sticks at around 180 yards. And missed. I am absolutely gutted.
I think I have to give him grace from now on. Taking another shot at him just doesn't seem fair somehow . . . .