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Main Boards => PowWow => Topic started by: longbowman on July 31, 2009, 08:44:00 AM
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I still remember how beautiful all the colors of the fall leaves looked and the robin egg blue sky. It was about 40 degrees that 1958 morning when I saw him. A man coming towards our house carrying a bow! His quiver hung from his side and I was mesmerized. Since we lived morn than a mile from the nearest hard top road strangers were,,well...strange. He came up to the house and asked if he could have a glass of water. My older brother came out and gave him one. I reached up and touched his recurve bow and his arrows and the spirit of the bow transferred to me. My big brother made a bow that very day and from there we began a career in bowhunting.
Man, this is a great way to live! My brother passed away too early just a couple of years agao but my son and I carry our longbows and reurves into those beautiful woods every fall and his 2 yr. old daughter was at ETAR with us this year getting ready to do the same.
Hunting season is getting close guys and gals!
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Great story Longbowman, thanks for sharing!
F-Manny
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Way back, maybe even the same year because I'm pretty sure I was 6 at the time, I would sit on a swing seat hanging from a elm tree limb and watch my father practice with his long bow. I pestered him relentlessly to take me hunting with him. I don't remember now what it was that I did, but I vividly recall him saying that, as a reward, he would take me with him the next morning.
By daylight we were sitting on a wooded hill side at the top of a gully. There were two trees that formed a vee and Dad built a little rock seat for me and then he sat in front of me. (He explained years later that he sat in front to conceal as much of me fidgiting as possible). It was the first time in my life that I witnessed the waking of the woods to a new day. I remember the smell of the woods and the wonderful chorus of songbirds in the early morning. After a while Dad turned to me with his finger against his lips then pointed towards the log on our left where he had set out a couple of apples for us to munch on for breakfast. I didn't see anything but then I heard the leaves rustling on the other side of the log. Slowly a little black button of a nose appeared inching closer towards the farthest apple. Then the tips of a couple of ears and finally the masked eyes of a young raccoon. That coon was just about to take the apple when it turned and saw us and froze. Then, ever so slowly backed away all the while looking from us to the apple, us to the apple, us to the apple. It finally disappeared from view but was still just on the other side of the log. Dad slowly reached for one of the apples and pulled his knife, cut out a small slice and tossed it out over the log far enough for us to see it. It took about 30 seconds for that coon to realize that piece was meant for him. He darted over, snatched the piece of apple and ran off about 10 yds to eat it. Then Dad sliced off 3 or 4 more pieces and lined them up along top of the log. Over the course of probably 15 minutes, that coon would come over, slowly take one piece from the log and move off to eat it. The last piece was probably less than a foot from where we were sitting.
Although we didn't see a deer that morning I was hooked. And I have been blessed to share treasured experiences like that for over 50 years with my mentor, my best friend, my favorite hunting partner, my father.
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I was 12and just saw the movie "Robinhood" starring Richard Todd and couldn't get the image of bows, arrows and shooting off on my mind. Then on Christmas morning under the tree was a Ben Pearson Lemonwood longbow and arrow set my parents got for me. We lived in the city but for me it was magic. Of course my "range" consisted of arching cedar arrows over the chain link fence and across the alley to a paper target on a neighbor's bank. I also made a dummy of old clothes that was the Sheriff of Nottingham and filled him full of arrows. How un PC today.
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Nice story, Thanks for sharing.
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AHHHH.....memories. What a blessing they are. To be able to close our eyes and be right there / right then. Great recollections by all.
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My dad would watch westerns and still does today. I don't know why but I never wanted to be a cowboy I wanted to be a Indian. I can remember sitting there watching them shoot there bows and longed to live during those times. Thats what got me in to bows. I can't remember how old I was but an old guy who owned the farm behind us gave me a fiberglass longbow and I was in heaven. I shot cowboys till it finally cracked. I can still remember ever detail of that first bow. Wish I could go back. Now I'm giving my son a little Bear bow to hopefully pass on the tradition. Man I want to be 6 years old again!!! :archer:
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I hope that I will give memories like these to my 3 sons. It is what I live for.