The Buck Stopped Here - Part 2

Part of successful bow hunting is consistency in repetition. Your draw must always be the same - every time - and must coincide with the same release - every time. So as I stood there in the tree stand at full draw waiting for the monster buck to take his last step I noted that I was pulling much harder at the end of my draw range than I normally do. "Consistency, Andy. Don't get over excited" my mental discipline and practice reiterated in my ears.
So I decided to relax my draw ever so slightly.. less than an eighth of an inch - I had done that 100's of times in practice shooting... so I did... the same way I always have... consistency. POP!
"What the !?" I was confused - with such a small movement there had been a new noise - and the bow string had jerked violently forward. Not a misfire - not intentional - not even planned. That minor relaxing of my draw had NEVER done that before.
The monster stepped out into the opening and turned his head away from me... and now - from my vantage point - I could see the 13th tine on his antlers - sticking DOWN from the left side... that's what is called an atypical rack - and one that big - in New York- with a bow - puts him (and me) in the record books. "MASSIVE".
Any hunter will tell you that the only thing better than their quarry standing perfectly still and broadside to them at an absolute known yardage - is when all the same factors exist AND the quarry is looking away from you...
I quickly assumed that I must have been under the influence of "buck fever" even though I felt asymptomatic... "I must have let off too far - I'll just draw again since he's looking away - this is my buck." I pulled... but something was wrong... the angle of the arrow... the angle of the draw... I yanked harder and still no progress... I couldn't draw the bow! Was I suddenly in need of a little blue pill for hunting?!
As panic and frustration swept over me I looked up at the buck who was still interested in things opposite and distant from my location - as the encroaching twilight glinted off the ivory spires that adorned his crown - I observed the oddest sight... the string on my bow seemed to have leaped out of the track of the top wheel. My bow would never draw. It was a silent scream... One of anguish that surely rivaled that when Luke refused to admit Vader was his father.
The monster 13 point atypical buck put his nose to the ground now and started smelling the doe in heat lure that I had spritzed the area with before climbing into my stand earlier that afternoon... big, loud, deep snorts... he was becoming intoxicated by the pheromones... I could see his neck swelling. He would NEVER see me.
I quickly sat down placed the bottom of my bow between my boots. "I'm not giving up on this buck", I thought. "Once in a lifetime and this WILL NOT HAPPEN to me"!
In a tsunami of sheer determination and adrenaline fueled strength - I pressed down on the limb of my bow... harder... harder... it was flexing - the loop of free bowstring was now nearly even with the top of the wheel on which it belonged... I glanced up... the buck was slowly moving - but completely absorbed by the smells of lust - and I was just about to loop the string back onto the wheel... determination is a mighty powerful tool...