After reading the “Why do you bowhunt” thread, I started thinking about this.
I’ve been a hunter since I was strong enough to cock my Daisy bb gun. I remember holding the barrel in my left hand, with my right foot on the heel of the stock to get enough leverage to pull the lever up with my right hand. I guess I was 4 or so because it was before I was in kindergarten.
I think in those first couple years I may have killed a single blackbird, but I promise that I scared the crap out of every bird, squirrel, and stray cat in my neighborhood. A few years later, my dad gave me one of his bolt action 22s, which I still have to this day and wouldn’t trade for Travis’ shiny new 50 cal. The scoped rifle added a whole new dimension to my hunting career. Now, if I had a steady rest on a target that was within 50 yards, the prize was mine. I spend countless weekends tromping through my Grannie’s pasture in search of the elusive tree rat that had become a staple of my diet.
After many bricks of ammo and enough squirrels to fill the bed of a mid size pickup, at the ripe ole age of 11, I graduated to my first deer rifle. Dad had let me hunt deer with an open sight 30-30 for the two years prior, but I had yet to bag a deer. I think he just wanted to see if I was responsible enough to handle a center fire rifle before getting me one of my own. Looking back, I think I was a bit scared of the recoil and that might have kept me from taking a shot at a deer with that old 30-30, I was a spinly little fella back then.
The new Remington 788 in 222 quickly dissipated my fear of recoil and I tagged out on our Llano lease for four years in a row. Then came high school and a new, more formidable white tail! I hunted regularly until I got my driver’s license and then it quickly tapered off to almost non existent.
This pattern held strong until I was done with my 5 year associates degree, got a job, and found my live in lover (who later became my bride). With more “homely” items on my agenda, I dusted off the old 222 and embarked on my first hunt in a very long time. The rush I got, this time around was insatiable. Every chance I got, I wanted to be in the woods to bag my next trophy whether it was squirrels, rabbits, coons, hogs, deer … it didn’t matter, I wanted to hunt and I loved to kill.
Soon after this trend started, in about 2000 or so, my best friend traded some stuff for a PSE Durango and decided to try his hand at bow hunting. He convinced me to do the same and not long after, I was the proud owner of a “new to me” $200 PSE Thunderbolt, that was probably about an inch and a half too long for my short arms. A little coaching from Tomb at Victoria’s local archery shop got me on my way to “mastering” my new weapon. I’m not sure if Tom even remembers that day, but to me, it was one of those marker days in my life. When everyone working in the shop was too busy to help me, and the other guy shooting just didn’t want to take the time out of his range time to show me anything, Tom pulled me aside and asked me if I wanted some help, obviously he could tell that I was out of my element. When I say he taught me everything I knew about archery, it was true because before his coaching session I only knew that I owned a PSE bow, a Scott release, a dozen new PSE Dominator arrows, and had a stong desire to learn to use them.
The following weeks found me in my yard shooting sometimes 75 to 100 arrows a day. I didn’t understand that fatigue resulted in poor form, but instead thought that the more I shot the better I HAD to become, even if the last shots took every ounce of energy I had left, just to get the string back. A few months of this and I was on my way to my first “bow hunt” at Thompson Temple’s. Thinking about it, this may be why I’m so fond of Thompson’s … it was where my bow hunting career began. That trip found me packing more than I’d ever packed before. In addition to my new bow hunting equipment, I packed a rifle and all the stuff that went with it. You know, just in case the game wouldn’t cooperate and I couldn’t get a shot with my bow, I had to have the rifle as a backup. That trip, I got my first bow kill, a dinky little painted desert ram that my lovely bride still teases me about to this day. I do believe it is the smallest ram that I’ve killed to date, and it is shoulder mounted, hanging proudly amongst the gold medal rams that adorn the walls of my game room. I didn’t take my rifle out of the case that trip but I was happy to know that it was there if I needed it.
For the next year or so, that pattern continued. My rifle was always a safety blanket, just in case things didn’t work out. Somewhere around 2005, I was talking to a taxidermist friend of mine, Carl Trague from Houma, LA, about his recent trip to Africa, and I got the bug. He had gone on a long safari followed by a week of sight seeing with his wife. He bagged something like 27 animals. During our talk, he told me that this (his first) trip he wanted to lay ‘em down and then the following trips he could be more selective on what he shot. It all made sense. I was chomping at the bit to go and started doing some price shopping online. During all this time, I kept wondering if the PH would let me take a bow AND a rifle to the blind or if they would let me use their rifle if my target was a bit out of bow range.
These last years have passed and I’ve leaned less and less on my trusty rifle, to the point now where I haven’t shot a rifle in a very long time. The last time I killed an animal with a rifle was when Breezy took me hog hunting last year before deer season. I still have all of my guns, which my bride frequently asks of their purpose, and I still like to buy guns, many of which I’ve never even fired, but I have absolutely no urge to hunt with a rifle. I’m not saying that if the hunt of a lifetime presented itself that I would decline it if it was with a rifle (or would I) but I’m to the point now where I really consider myself a BOW hunter rather than a hunter. I often find myself thinking about shooting smaller and smaller game with my bow, and have done it on a few occasions.
I think the defining moment for me was recently when my bride told me that we could go to Africa when we sold our other house (which should happen pretty soon) and I started mentally packing my two sets of hunting clothes and all the stuff I’d need for my safari, into my BOW case without even thinking about whether I needed to buy an airline approved rifle case. Taking a rifle to Africa isn’t even a possibility, it just doesn’t appeal to me anymore. Passing up a shot with a bow is more appealing than a slam dunk with a rifle. Again, no offense to you bow hunting rifle toting sissies that hunted Africa with a rifle (JJ), but I just can’t do it. Even though I've called myself a bow hunter for the last 9 or so years, I think my progression to being a bow hunter is complete.
After reading all of this, I want to know … where are you in your progression?
I’ve been a hunter since I was strong enough to cock my Daisy bb gun. I remember holding the barrel in my left hand, with my right foot on the heel of the stock to get enough leverage to pull the lever up with my right hand. I guess I was 4 or so because it was before I was in kindergarten.
I think in those first couple years I may have killed a single blackbird, but I promise that I scared the crap out of every bird, squirrel, and stray cat in my neighborhood. A few years later, my dad gave me one of his bolt action 22s, which I still have to this day and wouldn’t trade for Travis’ shiny new 50 cal. The scoped rifle added a whole new dimension to my hunting career. Now, if I had a steady rest on a target that was within 50 yards, the prize was mine. I spend countless weekends tromping through my Grannie’s pasture in search of the elusive tree rat that had become a staple of my diet.
After many bricks of ammo and enough squirrels to fill the bed of a mid size pickup, at the ripe ole age of 11, I graduated to my first deer rifle. Dad had let me hunt deer with an open sight 30-30 for the two years prior, but I had yet to bag a deer. I think he just wanted to see if I was responsible enough to handle a center fire rifle before getting me one of my own. Looking back, I think I was a bit scared of the recoil and that might have kept me from taking a shot at a deer with that old 30-30, I was a spinly little fella back then.
The new Remington 788 in 222 quickly dissipated my fear of recoil and I tagged out on our Llano lease for four years in a row. Then came high school and a new, more formidable white tail! I hunted regularly until I got my driver’s license and then it quickly tapered off to almost non existent.
This pattern held strong until I was done with my 5 year associates degree, got a job, and found my live in lover (who later became my bride). With more “homely” items on my agenda, I dusted off the old 222 and embarked on my first hunt in a very long time. The rush I got, this time around was insatiable. Every chance I got, I wanted to be in the woods to bag my next trophy whether it was squirrels, rabbits, coons, hogs, deer … it didn’t matter, I wanted to hunt and I loved to kill.
Soon after this trend started, in about 2000 or so, my best friend traded some stuff for a PSE Durango and decided to try his hand at bow hunting. He convinced me to do the same and not long after, I was the proud owner of a “new to me” $200 PSE Thunderbolt, that was probably about an inch and a half too long for my short arms. A little coaching from Tomb at Victoria’s local archery shop got me on my way to “mastering” my new weapon. I’m not sure if Tom even remembers that day, but to me, it was one of those marker days in my life. When everyone working in the shop was too busy to help me, and the other guy shooting just didn’t want to take the time out of his range time to show me anything, Tom pulled me aside and asked me if I wanted some help, obviously he could tell that I was out of my element. When I say he taught me everything I knew about archery, it was true because before his coaching session I only knew that I owned a PSE bow, a Scott release, a dozen new PSE Dominator arrows, and had a stong desire to learn to use them.
The following weeks found me in my yard shooting sometimes 75 to 100 arrows a day. I didn’t understand that fatigue resulted in poor form, but instead thought that the more I shot the better I HAD to become, even if the last shots took every ounce of energy I had left, just to get the string back. A few months of this and I was on my way to my first “bow hunt” at Thompson Temple’s. Thinking about it, this may be why I’m so fond of Thompson’s … it was where my bow hunting career began. That trip found me packing more than I’d ever packed before. In addition to my new bow hunting equipment, I packed a rifle and all the stuff that went with it. You know, just in case the game wouldn’t cooperate and I couldn’t get a shot with my bow, I had to have the rifle as a backup. That trip, I got my first bow kill, a dinky little painted desert ram that my lovely bride still teases me about to this day. I do believe it is the smallest ram that I’ve killed to date, and it is shoulder mounted, hanging proudly amongst the gold medal rams that adorn the walls of my game room. I didn’t take my rifle out of the case that trip but I was happy to know that it was there if I needed it.
For the next year or so, that pattern continued. My rifle was always a safety blanket, just in case things didn’t work out. Somewhere around 2005, I was talking to a taxidermist friend of mine, Carl Trague from Houma, LA, about his recent trip to Africa, and I got the bug. He had gone on a long safari followed by a week of sight seeing with his wife. He bagged something like 27 animals. During our talk, he told me that this (his first) trip he wanted to lay ‘em down and then the following trips he could be more selective on what he shot. It all made sense. I was chomping at the bit to go and started doing some price shopping online. During all this time, I kept wondering if the PH would let me take a bow AND a rifle to the blind or if they would let me use their rifle if my target was a bit out of bow range.
These last years have passed and I’ve leaned less and less on my trusty rifle, to the point now where I haven’t shot a rifle in a very long time. The last time I killed an animal with a rifle was when Breezy took me hog hunting last year before deer season. I still have all of my guns, which my bride frequently asks of their purpose, and I still like to buy guns, many of which I’ve never even fired, but I have absolutely no urge to hunt with a rifle. I’m not saying that if the hunt of a lifetime presented itself that I would decline it if it was with a rifle (or would I) but I’m to the point now where I really consider myself a BOW hunter rather than a hunter. I often find myself thinking about shooting smaller and smaller game with my bow, and have done it on a few occasions.
I think the defining moment for me was recently when my bride told me that we could go to Africa when we sold our other house (which should happen pretty soon) and I started mentally packing my two sets of hunting clothes and all the stuff I’d need for my safari, into my BOW case without even thinking about whether I needed to buy an airline approved rifle case. Taking a rifle to Africa isn’t even a possibility, it just doesn’t appeal to me anymore. Passing up a shot with a bow is more appealing than a slam dunk with a rifle. Again, no offense to you bow hunting rifle toting sissies that hunted Africa with a rifle (JJ), but I just can’t do it. Even though I've called myself a bow hunter for the last 9 or so years, I think my progression to being a bow hunter is complete.
After reading all of this, I want to know … where are you in your progression?
Comment