The very first deer I managed to outwit using archery equipment succumbed to a well placed, albeit lucky shot from a recurve bow forever ago when I was 11 years old. My Dad bought me a brand spanking new Shakespeare Necedah that would max out at about 45 pounds if I could draw it all the way to 28", which I could not at the time. Four beige colored cedar arrows tipped with Bear Razorhead broadheads and steered by 5" turkey feathers, two white and a red, sat at the ready in my Kwikee Kwiver. To an 11 year old boy it was the coolest and most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes on at the time.
When I was 15 years old I made a terrible mistake and traded the Necedah in on a new Ben Pearson Equalizer compound. The guy at the pro shop gave me $15 for the bow as it had a warped lower limb. Fifteen dollars to a kid who’s limited spending money came from a paper route was a lot of money. It wasn't until many years later after I built my first trophy room that I really regretted not having my very first bow to hang on the wall. I searched for several years and never found a used Necedah in decent shape that wasn't too expensive.; not to mention that there were very few of them to be found. I had pretty much given up hope when I happened to mention my dilemma to an old Air Force buddy who was also a hunter. "I have an old recurve I bought from some guy on EBay years ago, Gary Phillips told me. If I can find it in the basement I'll check, but it may actually be a Shakespeare." A month or so later I got a text from Gary. "I don't remember what bow you said you were looking for but this thing is a Shakespeare Necedah. You can have it, I don't ever shoot it." I met Gary for lunch and gripped the bow with my left hand and marveled at how light it was and how good it felt. This bow, like the one I owned 40 years earlier was in remarkably good shape. The Shakespeare logo, the glossy limb finish and even the rest looked remarkably like my old bow. I wished I could remember the serial # of my original but my mind drew a blank. A few weeks later I found the time to hang it on the wall downstairs, near some of my antique collectibles. Against my better judgment I removed it from the pegs and looked the bow string over....it appeared to be in good shape, or good enough for a couple of shots before being retired again. The string appeared to be OK and I carefully checked it up and down, still trying to decide if I was really going to shoot it. The bow string above the loop on the bottom limb caught my eye as it wasn't centered. "Well I'll be danged, this lower limb tip is warped....." No, or could it be, I pondered as a chill ran up my spine. Many people don't believe in Karma, Godwinks, divine intervention or whatever you care to call it. I DO.
So I unstrung the sleek recurve, wiped it down good again and hung it back on the wall. Part of me wanted my last memory of shooting it to be from when I was a wild little boy who woke up every morning of his life with one thing on his mind……shooting his bow and arrow. Mission accomplished ~
Thank you for sharing it with us.
Thanks for sharing the story!
