The story of the bow and arrow is the story of man himself.
There is no feeling quite like picking up a bow, and leaving your home knowing you will take that bow into the mountains or forest, and use it. As I creep through the deep woods — my senses electrified and razor sharp with single-minded focus, every step thoughtful, predatory and calculated — I feel the spirit of my ancestors coursing through my veins, flesh, and soul.
To me, bow hunting is much, much more than filling the freezer. It is my meditation, my zen, my happy place and my church. In the bosom of Mother Nature, I challenge myself to best my quarry — beasts who don’t go to work, don’t pay taxes, and don’t write blogs. They greet the light of day and the inky abyss of night with singular intent — to survive. My pursuit of them is pure, honest and primal. They know when they see me that I’m there for one reason. They know the stakes. They know the price of failure. I am forced to use cunning, deception and stratagem to compensate for my vastly inferior physical senses. I taste the bitterness of failure far more often than the sweet sacrament of success. Nevertheless, patiently, purposefully, and quietly, I persist.
My mind is the weapon, but my body must be willing to do it’s bidding. I train with the goal of being able to walk farther, hunt harder, shoot better, and ultimately — kill more. Then! Then, the real work begins. The harvesting of quarters, organs, trim, and capes. The hike out, the high fives, the phone calls, the pictures, the hoots, the hollers and the cussing at the effort. The cleaning, butchering, grinding and spicing. The freezing, thawing, cooking and serving — it all comes down to the big payday — the meal.
On the hunt I have built bonds of brotherhood that I would defend with my life, and at the table we come together to train for Valhalla by feasting on our quarry, sharing the spoils of our toils, and thanking God or whoever we believe in for the blessings we are afforded.
To cook and serve the ones I love the meat I bring home from the woods with my bow is to me, the ultimate expression of love. This is why I do what I do. This is why I train to be the most deadly predator I can possibly be.
This is why I am a bow hunter.