Fullquiver
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jul 18, 2018
- Messages
- 450
When I was a boy of perhaps 11 or 12 yo, I read every hunting adventure book I could get my hands on. However what captivated me most was being a Fred Bear, Howard Hill kind of archer. So I begged my dad for a bow and cedar arrows that they sold down at the hardware store. I used every bit of money I earned working on the neighborhood farms to buy arrows that I constantly lost or broke while out field shooting. I always had my bow and the quiver that my mother had made me on my person when not doing chores or at school. I was becoming a fairly good shot.
So dad who worked a lot of hours at a local factory hadn't really see how I had developed as a instinctive shooter was home unusually early one afternoon. He was watching me shoot at leaves and stuff around our yard.
My mother had chickens and she was always very proud of them and their condition. So one of her prize laying hens was traversing the far side of the yard at 78 yards away. Dad said I bet you can't hit that chicken he even added that if I did that he would take the blame.. Well I pulled up on that hen and as she was walking I drew by trusty bow up and sent an arrow at that walking hen and I hit her right in the sweet spot and dropped her like a bad habit. Mom had just come out the door and had watched the whole event transpire. She lost it and Dad had to step in and tell her it was his idea and that the blame lay at his feet. Mom still made me clean the hen and we had chicken for dinner that evening.
The funny thing was I knew when I released that arrow that I had killed that hen. It was just that zen moment instinctive archery can bring one to when you truly become one with your bow and it becomes just an extension of your hand. I still love the feel of a low poundage recurve and some cedar shafts in my hands..
So dad who worked a lot of hours at a local factory hadn't really see how I had developed as a instinctive shooter was home unusually early one afternoon. He was watching me shoot at leaves and stuff around our yard.
My mother had chickens and she was always very proud of them and their condition. So one of her prize laying hens was traversing the far side of the yard at 78 yards away. Dad said I bet you can't hit that chicken he even added that if I did that he would take the blame.. Well I pulled up on that hen and as she was walking I drew by trusty bow up and sent an arrow at that walking hen and I hit her right in the sweet spot and dropped her like a bad habit. Mom had just come out the door and had watched the whole event transpire. She lost it and Dad had to step in and tell her it was his idea and that the blame lay at his feet. Mom still made me clean the hen and we had chicken for dinner that evening.
The funny thing was I knew when I released that arrow that I had killed that hen. It was just that zen moment instinctive archery can bring one to when you truly become one with your bow and it becomes just an extension of your hand. I still love the feel of a low poundage recurve and some cedar shafts in my hands..