Circa 1980/81
I was gifted a 50 pound bear recurve from my brother in law who at the time was dating my sister. He gave me six cedar arrows for hunting, and another six target arrows. I was 13 years old, and all summer, I practiced every night, until my fingers hurt. I became pretty damn good at 15 yards (the depth of my city lot). My brother in law upgraded to a four wheel system known as a compound. His was also a Fred Bear upgrade, that would allow the ease of holding the bow at full draw much easier.
I remember buying my license at the Janesville Archery Lanes. Dealing with "Hank" was a real treat. He was a mean bastard who was my idol. He knew the bow, and also knew I did not. Bitched at me about form, or arrow weight, or target tips etc., and also gave me a free dozen aluminum arrows. I was almost embarrassed to take the gift. A single mom, very little money, and I was in heaven. It made me better. Those warped cedar shafts paled in comparison. I practiced. I saved. I bought a glove instead of tabs. I could shoot with ninja-like accuracy at 20 yards. September came. I bought my first archery license. The type that was on paper, and had a carbon copy. The smell of fletching glue, and that shop, drew me to the lanes every day. I do miss that smell.
I hunted Lyndon Station with my brother in law on his uncle's land. Back then, you shot deer. Not big bucks. You shot flesh. Your tag was good for either/or. You could take a buck or doe. This is before internet, cell phones, QDM, Facebook and bowsite. It was a time when you hunted for the glory of taking a deer with a bow and arrow, and people didn't believe it was possible?
My brother in law directs me in the dark, and says climb this tree. There's a piece of wood in that first crotch. I climbed railroad spikes and parked my rear in a crotch of a tree, pulled my bow up with a clothesline, and sat until daylight. This was a time before good camo, treestands, tree pegs, ladder stands etc. Daylight comes. The woods came to life, and it was my heaven. I close my eyes, and I can visualize it, as if it was yesterday. It was 36 years ago. Of course my legs fell asleep. I didn't have a hanger for my bow, I didn't have sights. I didn't have a range finder. I was in blue jeans and a plaid sweatshirt. I was about 80 yards from my hero. My brother in law who was dating my sister. I hoped he married her, because he was that guy who was 8 years older than me. He took the time to take this kid out. Damn I was lucky!
My brother in law at the time lacked the motivation to practice like I did. He was a fulltime employee at General Motors, making the big bucks, and probably thinking about my older sister on his time off lol. Well, he hadn't shot a deer with the bow himself, and although he hadn't, he gave me that perfect tree stand in that draw that was a transition spot from bedding to feeding.
As I sit there watching the woods wake up, I closed my eyes. I prayed. I prayed to see a deer. I said I wanted to bring home some meat for the family. I said amen, eyes closed, open my eyes, and I'm not kidding. A six point yearling is standing in front of me at (no range finder) roughly 20 yards. I had never practiced from an elevated position. Well, I had an arrow nocked, I drew, I released with my heart racing, and I hit.....the ground just under that buck. I hit the ground, snapped the deer with my arrow in the leg. I remember (like it was yesterday) that I was already butchering this deer, and having my mother show me how proud she was. I would squirrel hunt, and my mother always praised my catch of the day. We ate what I killed. I was the man of the house, and I was about to become THE MAN of the house! Well that deer ran off, my prayers unanswered. Was I disheartened? Nope! I was still jacked up. My brother in law sitting behind a bush giving me hand gestures asking me if I killed something? Nope. Thumbs down lol. Oh well.
I'm not kidding. 15 minutes went by. I'm thinking why not? Close My eyes, ask for another chance knowing there's no way he'll bless me again. Amen, open my eyes, and I'm not kidding. Same shot, different deer. Two deer! A forkhorn and a doe. I nock an arrow....yep, I forgot. Nock an arrow, draw my Kodiak, aim true, and lace that sucker through the heart! It runs right to my brother in law 80 yards from me, and falls over. He's so elated about what just transpired, he hoots out the war-cry! He was so proud of me! I was proud of me! My mom was proud of me! I learned how to gut a deer....Well, maybe how not to gut a deer lol. It was all I needed.
I hunted with my mentor the next year. Instead, I insisted he take the good stand, and it happened. I told him to pray. He did, and he shot his first deer with the bow. I did that symbolic war-cry for him. Again, we were so stoked.
That woods was clear cut. He moved with General Motors to Indiana. I made him a knife handke out of that fork horn for Christmas. He cried. He knew immediately what deer that handle was from. I know it goes with him on his hunts. At 20 years old, I put a lot of time into that present.
Times change. I've killed a few deer since then. I'm modernized. I talk to my brother (80 yards away) in Indiana via text now. We both shoot compounds, although both states have crossbows. He ironically cost me a really nice ten pointer just a couple years back. It was one of those days. An all day hunt. I saw 13 bucks that day. His birthday of all things. End of October. I send him a happy birthday...phone in hand.....look up as a great buck walked past my shooting lane. Should have closed my eyes and prayed. Instead I laughed at the irony of what's important. I'd rather have my friend sitting 80 yards from me, and the both of us celebrating the greatest success of all my hunts combined.....A forkhorn that made me a bowhunter....and a great brother in law and friend, and a little green recurve!
