Another difference: back then, if you shot a buck like this little basket-racked 8, people sincerely congratulated you. No one said anything like: “You’re killing your future when you shoot a buck like that.” The deer population explosion was still a novelty and every deer was still a trophy. That’s something I think was better about 1988. Back then, Iowa was debating whether to allow non-residents to hunt deer. We were landowners then, and my mom was convinced that letting out-of-staters buy deer licenses meant we would be overrun with hordes of hunters from Minnesota and Wisconsin. “Relax, mom,” I said. “Who’s going to pay $250 to come to Iowa to hunt deer with a shotgun when they can stay home and hunt with rifles?” Okay, so I was wrong about that one. I had no idea we would become a trophy deer mecca. Now it costs $500 to hunt here. The hordes my mom feared never materialized, but the leased and off-limits deer woods we never thought about sure did.