So far, I've never met anybody who felt no emotions at all about shooting Bambi. I figure an emotionless type wouldn't be bothered to hunt, just to begin with. Emotionless types are far more likely to hunt in the grocery store's meat counter. But a lack of grand excitement or not having the warm fuzzies does not mean a lack of emotion...
It's fairly common that in early life, we're sorta bloodthirsty about hunting. Not "bad-bad", but generally eager.
With maturity comes a more measured approach. Some hunt strictly for meat. Others, sure, the meat is good but as I said earlier, there is the "wait for a bigger buck" part of the deal. I figure that it comes from the self-confidence in one's ability, knowing that it's when, not if.
Somewhere in there for many is the adding of the challenge for the real trophy horns or size, with maybe a lesser importance attached to the meat. That brings the "if" back into the deal.
Then, down the line for a lot of us, is the "Been there, done that" and we slow down. Heck, at my age I can't eat a whole deer. The "school teacher" part of one's psyche comes into play. I'd much rather help somebody catch a deer than go to the trouble, now, to do it myself. Here on the Internet, I just sorta pass along some of the stuff I've learned, these past seventy years.
I ran across the comment, years back, that one's immortality is only in the minds of friends and family. In memories. So, since I can recall the circumstances of the hunt for each and every set of antlers nailed to my garage joists, there's a sort of immortality there that has lasted long beyond the usual lifespan of a deer. I recall the day, who was in camp, the shot--all those things that go into the package. Memories...