Pucky Freak
Well-known member
^^ Yep, this was me today.
I wish I had a brag post, but not this time. Instead, maybe someone can learn from my screw-up.
I bought my first compound bow (Bear Species) last week, and by yesterday afternoon had it customized to my liking, paper tuned, and started to practice anchoring.
Today I set the first two sight pins at 30 and 40 yards. My 30-yard shots consistently hit within 2" of the point of aim, which was exciting for me because I didn't expect to be doing this well so soon.
My 15-yard shots were 2" high on the 30-yard pin, so I moved to 15 yards to practice aiming 2" beneath the target. The first pull of the trigger brought a crack like lightning. In the next half second, I had two thoughts: 1. I just dry fired, and 2. Where is the arrow? A wave of dread started to come on as I found my arrow right where I left it - in the quiver.
The Saunders cable slide appeared to take the brunt of the arrowless string, as it snapped and the cradle whizzed off to my right. My arm holding the bow took a nice whipping, but I was otherwise uninjured.
So, how did this happen? I have no excuse. I wasn't careful enough, and I allowed it to occur. That aside, there were a few contributing factors:
1. Before I drew back I was thinking about arrow trajectory. This was a grave error. I should have chosen to stop thinking about everything before starting my pre-shot routine.
2. I was happy and excited about how well I was shooting, how good the equipment was working, and how much I liked the equipment. I was a bit smug at how my equipment research had paid off, and I was having a lot of fun. This was the goal (duh), but I still should have tempered my feelings with the reality of the situation: I was handling a weapon that can fail catastrophically and severely injure someone if used improperly. In 2016 my shotgun discharged when I closed the action, but I was saved from killing someone by the ingrained habit of always maintaining safe muzzle direction.
3. I have been shooting traditional bows for 20 years, shot thousands of arrows, and taken diverse game. This isn't my first rodeo, but I overlooked a very important part of the transition from traditional archery tackle: you don't see, feel, or hear the arrow on a compound when drawing back or viewing the target. With traditional equipment, you do. The tip of the arrow is part of the sight picture. I am so accustomed to these sensations, and I never had to check if I had an arrow nocked. It's time to retool my pre-shot routine to include verifying the presence of a nocked arrow. I am thinking 500 drills before letting another arrow fly to retrain my brain.
Tomorrow I am off to the pro shop to have the bow inspected. The strings jumped off, but the only damage I can find so far are two tiny spots, barely visible to the eye, where a cottonball catches on each of the limbs. I can't tell if it's a crack in the fiberglass or a paint blemish. Worst case scenario I buy a new bow and cable slide for $330.
I can't say I am glad I did this, but I am happy that it turned out to be relatively cheap way of getting my attention to be more vigilant about not repeating what can be an expensive and very dangerous error.
I wish I had a brag post, but not this time. Instead, maybe someone can learn from my screw-up.
I bought my first compound bow (Bear Species) last week, and by yesterday afternoon had it customized to my liking, paper tuned, and started to practice anchoring.
Today I set the first two sight pins at 30 and 40 yards. My 30-yard shots consistently hit within 2" of the point of aim, which was exciting for me because I didn't expect to be doing this well so soon.
My 15-yard shots were 2" high on the 30-yard pin, so I moved to 15 yards to practice aiming 2" beneath the target. The first pull of the trigger brought a crack like lightning. In the next half second, I had two thoughts: 1. I just dry fired, and 2. Where is the arrow? A wave of dread started to come on as I found my arrow right where I left it - in the quiver.
The Saunders cable slide appeared to take the brunt of the arrowless string, as it snapped and the cradle whizzed off to my right. My arm holding the bow took a nice whipping, but I was otherwise uninjured.
So, how did this happen? I have no excuse. I wasn't careful enough, and I allowed it to occur. That aside, there were a few contributing factors:
1. Before I drew back I was thinking about arrow trajectory. This was a grave error. I should have chosen to stop thinking about everything before starting my pre-shot routine.
2. I was happy and excited about how well I was shooting, how good the equipment was working, and how much I liked the equipment. I was a bit smug at how my equipment research had paid off, and I was having a lot of fun. This was the goal (duh), but I still should have tempered my feelings with the reality of the situation: I was handling a weapon that can fail catastrophically and severely injure someone if used improperly. In 2016 my shotgun discharged when I closed the action, but I was saved from killing someone by the ingrained habit of always maintaining safe muzzle direction.
3. I have been shooting traditional bows for 20 years, shot thousands of arrows, and taken diverse game. This isn't my first rodeo, but I overlooked a very important part of the transition from traditional archery tackle: you don't see, feel, or hear the arrow on a compound when drawing back or viewing the target. With traditional equipment, you do. The tip of the arrow is part of the sight picture. I am so accustomed to these sensations, and I never had to check if I had an arrow nocked. It's time to retool my pre-shot routine to include verifying the presence of a nocked arrow. I am thinking 500 drills before letting another arrow fly to retrain my brain.
Tomorrow I am off to the pro shop to have the bow inspected. The strings jumped off, but the only damage I can find so far are two tiny spots, barely visible to the eye, where a cottonball catches on each of the limbs. I can't tell if it's a crack in the fiberglass or a paint blemish. Worst case scenario I buy a new bow and cable slide for $330.
I can't say I am glad I did this, but I am happy that it turned out to be relatively cheap way of getting my attention to be more vigilant about not repeating what can be an expensive and very dangerous error.
Last edited:
That sucks, dude. I think we've all done it at some point.
