I always love the bow that has a well worn handle. It leaves me thinking of all the places that it must have traveled. Did it take the life from a bird, rabbit or a majestic buck? It's fun to travel to those places in your mind. Imagining the smell of wet leaves or feel the warmth of a fire after a cold day in the woods.
Even if it just sat in a basement or attic, think of all the toys, Christams, Easter or even Halloween things it may have shared company with over the years.
It can sit there for 20 yrs and then a young kid sees it and is fascinated by the possibilities it holds. Suddenly, after all that time it has a new life in the hands of a young boy. He might find a makeshift string and some arrows that "must" go with it over in the corner. Next thing you know he is shooting at a target or maybe some unsuspecting bird. Testing out his prowess as an "indian" or hunter. He doesn't need to know what other eople think of hunting because something inside him takes over. He finds himself stalking a squirrel or bird and an instinct wakes up deep inside. He is a hunter in its purest sense because the world has not cast its shadow over him yet.
There was a bow like that in my basement growing up, but I was never allowed to touch it. So, I guess that's why when I see that bow, arrow and glove, I wish I was that little boy again.
Thanks George.
-Charlie