The Connection…
Easing along the riverbank, my cautious footfalls conveniently disguised by the sounds of wa-ter over rocks, I made my way to the faint game trail that would lead me inland some 50 yards or so to a predetermined ambush point of my choosing. I paused as I noticed a river otter perched on a boulder in the river, not an uncommon sight, as a family had been fre-quenting the area recently. Finally reaching the trail and moving quietly along, I came to the large blown down cottonwood lying alongside, and climbed atop its immense girth, prone be-side an equally large brother still standing. From my four-foot high perch, my back to the great tree, I faced a well-traveled game trail that passed beneath yet another blowdown be-hemoth, it’s trunk and branches arching over the passers-by like some great garden gate. Patiently I waited, my Bear recurve in hand, for what fate might bring me.
Lulled by the quiet whispering of the nearby river and the rustling of leaves from the cool evening breeze, I was shaken back from the edge of conscious clarity as I keyed in on the sounds of approaching footsteps on the trail. A family of does, seven total, moved unsus-pecting down the trail, beneath the limbs of the fallen tree, and began to feed in the small clearing beyond.
The mule deer does had no idea that a predator was in their midst, intent on carrying out that ages-old dance that Mother Nature scripted. From a distance scarcely five yards away, I took aim as the last doe passed, and sent a razorhead through her body. She bounded a couple jumps, then took a few slow steps, laid down and died, the other deer scarcely even looking up to see what happened before resuming feeding.
Decades before, I had lived this, my first deer success ever with a bow, and it changed my life forever. Unless you are a bowhunter yourself, it’s perhaps hard to glean from words the feel-ings and emotions that surge throughout one’s mind and body in those defining moments. Un-insulated by distance, by the booming report of a firearm, by the curtain of a blind, every movement deliberate, every breath calculated, every muscle poised, mere feet of clear air be-tween, I was forced to examine my motives and desires for taking an animal's life, all in an in-stance as I studied her eyes, her body language, more closely than ever before. That intimate interaction, predator’s intent and prey’s awareness, so close, and ever so intense…that is what “connected” with me on some instinctive level, and still to this day remains every bit as sober-ing.
It spoils you, this proximity, like the junkie needing that extra potent “fix”, because the “regular stuff” just don’t cut the mustard anymore…and you find that it defines your choices and molds you into the hunter you need to be. It did me, anyway.
My desire for that close encounter steered my style and my equipment choices. I had no need for fancy-schmancy gear anymore…. only simplicity. I knew of no other bowhunters I could re-late with. I only knew that this was hunting for me, and this was the way I wanted to do it. At that moment I traded ease of opportunity for challenge as motive for my hunting, and made bowhunting the vehicle and tools I needed for the journey. And I’ve never looked back. An amazing leap for me, considering I was still a young man that had only been hunting a few years.
Today’s traditional bowhunter enters the woods with an entirely different frame of mind than most other types of modern hunters, seeking satisfaction beyond mere tag validation. It is the most challenging of hunts, and gives back to us the most in rewards, surely. It is how the pio-neers of this pastime felt about our pursuits as well.
Typically, the bowhunter with a recurve, longbow, or selfbow will put in countless hours afield in preparation for an ultra-close encounter. I’ve found, on average, it takes me 3 seasons or more to truly learn my hunting area well enough to at least have consistent success at harvest-ing game. And yet I find myself constantly longing for new stomping grounds and adventures, which again adds an increased degree of difficulty. Why is that? What’s the lure for us beyond the ultra close encounters we thrive on? It’s easy. It exists in the challenges we place on our-selves.
Make no mistake, we still like to kill animals, after all, we are hunters. But the constant search for a challenging journey to that end is what we really enjoy. And it is this quest that keeps our pastime new and invigorating, and helps it to last a lifetime.
It manifests itself in numerous ways. Holding out for a trophy or mature animal, or seeking a certain individual; crafting our own equipment, or in adopting a new tactic; seeking and hunting new areas and species; or in consciously “regressing” in our tools and accoutrements; There are numerous ways to keep it all new and refreshing, and yet satisfy the same urge to take game. And again, close is key here. It is this “closeness connection” I think that separates us from others who hunt. It's not just necessary, given our choice of tools...but desired.
Typically, on stand or still-hunting in one of our well-scouted locales, we may wait for some time before sighting at distance an animal we wish to take. Depending on the place, that dis-tance may be great indeed…. but at somewhere around 400 yards or so, the animal may be nearing rifle range for many gun hunters. Halve that to around 200 yards and it enters the realm of possibility for most of today’s muzzleloaders. At this distance movement and scent are of little concern for the hunter. Unless one is a total “goof” afield, he or she should enjoy the possibilities of backstraps and trophy antlers.
Calling, stalking or good location scouting can easily bring the quarry much closer, and at 100 yards off, only calculated movements and much better attention to wind direction and swirling air currents is needed. Now we are in good range for most open-sighted rifles, muzzleloaders, and shotguns. Even a few handguns can be effective here.
Halve that distance again, and now one needs to be aware of most all movements and have an ability to “blend” with whatever environ he is hidden in. At this range, most “modern” bowhunters, with rangefinders and flat-shooting trajectories feel they are “good” should the animal stand for the shot. For the traditional bowhunter, the quarry needs to be half again as close…usually within 30 yards. Most game is taken inside of 20 yards, a range that will test the determination, abilities, and instincts of the best of hunters. Movements must be at premium, wind direction absolutely optimal, and athletic ability to pull off a shot with a primitive style bow and all its inherent intricacies without detection becomes an exercise in grace and intent.
All that is challenge enough, under the best of conditions…assuming a relaxed, unaware quarry. Call that same animal in, and you can “up” the degree of difficulty a bunch! Take a stand at ground level, and again, the same is true. Give up your camo, and…. well you get the picture. And when success comes, and it comes often enough for true practitioners, it is as satisfying as it gets. But with these odds, it’s clear that there is so much more than just killing game. It is hunting with a purposeful approach, an artful style, and a committed conscious. Shortcuts are few, learning curves can be long and unforgiving, and it tends to weed out the impatient or boastful. But the rewards of the journey, both planned and incidental are unmatched. At least that’s been my experiences.
For nearly 4 decades now, at the time of this writing, I have enjoyed my efforts to re-live this excitement at every outing with my bow. And I have largely done so in any number of ways, and in the process learned volumes about myself and the game and the environments I have taken