Originally posted by Buff
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It is 2:25 am here in Johannesburg South Africa. I fell asleep early and can sleep no more.
Laying here, in the dark I began thinking about my life and all that goes into it to making it what it is.
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I am and have always been a Bowman. From the time I was a small boy I have always had a bow. I started out chasing rabbits and squirrels behind my childhood home, rarely killing one but loving the chase. Then life moved on and I made friends in school, like minded fellows for the most part but none that were ate up with bows and arrows like I was. In their defense it was as is a whole lot easier to kill something with a rifle than a bow.
Then once I grew up life kinda overwhelms a man. Meet a girl have a couple of kids and suddenly there is not a lot of time to play with your toys but that bow is always around. You may not have time to shoot it often but it is still with you when you step back from life to take a breath, it is in your heart and soul and gives you pleasure of a moment’s day dream of high mountains or faraway places, adventures yet to come.
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I have lived a blessed life. I have a wife I love, I have lived long enough to see my sons become just and upright men with families of their own and through all of it I have carried a bow. For some twenty – five years I worked shut downs. It was feast and famine, some years I had a great place to hunt, some years I hunted public land but every year was a good memory. Watching my sons grow up around a camp fire every year a little stronger a little more independent. The memory of it makes me smile even now. I am surrounded by grand kids, lots of the little devils and am blessed to see them often. Some will hunt, some will not. It does not matter to me I love them all.
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Now I’m old. Im not sure how that happened, I just looked up one day an young girls were holding doors open for me and everything hurts. My bow is still here calling to me. As I lay here in the dark I can remember so many moments in time. Freezing in a tent in the mountains of New Mexico, The sun breaking over the mountains in Wyoming are no better memory than the one I have of hearing the pigs coming through the dark river bottom headed to a pile of corn on a night hunt in East Texas. Every memory is special, every memory is mine.
I have traveled half way around the world hoping to kill an animal that most folks have never heard of or would be interested in hunting. My wife and my dog are left home alone to miss me, I love them both. This trip like all those in the past and all those left before me has that one common thread. There is a bow. A simple piece of wood made powerful and beautiful by some craftsman whom I have never met. The bow will do its job; it is pure in its ability. The win or lose of the entire affair rests on me.
Most everyone who reads this babbling will be left to wonder “is he drunk or stupid”. I assure you neither are the case. There will be a few out there than understand what I’m trying to say. Some things are hard to put down on paper. I have pretty much lived my life. I have been many things father, husband, grandpa, welder, rigger, machinist, supervisor Master Mason but at any period, through the many years If you asked me “What are you” I would have said “a Bowhunter”.
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Laying here, in the dark I began thinking about my life and all that goes into it to making it what it is.
[ATTACH]873604[/ATTACH]
I am and have always been a Bowman. From the time I was a small boy I have always had a bow. I started out chasing rabbits and squirrels behind my childhood home, rarely killing one but loving the chase. Then life moved on and I made friends in school, like minded fellows for the most part but none that were ate up with bows and arrows like I was. In their defense it was as is a whole lot easier to kill something with a rifle than a bow.
Then once I grew up life kinda overwhelms a man. Meet a girl have a couple of kids and suddenly there is not a lot of time to play with your toys but that bow is always around. You may not have time to shoot it often but it is still with you when you step back from life to take a breath, it is in your heart and soul and gives you pleasure of a moment’s day dream of high mountains or faraway places, adventures yet to come.
[ATTACH]873605[/ATTACH]
I have lived a blessed life. I have a wife I love, I have lived long enough to see my sons become just and upright men with families of their own and through all of it I have carried a bow. For some twenty – five years I worked shut downs. It was feast and famine, some years I had a great place to hunt, some years I hunted public land but every year was a good memory. Watching my sons grow up around a camp fire every year a little stronger a little more independent. The memory of it makes me smile even now. I am surrounded by grand kids, lots of the little devils and am blessed to see them often. Some will hunt, some will not. It does not matter to me I love them all.
[ATTACH]873606[/ATTACH]
Now I’m old. Im not sure how that happened, I just looked up one day an young girls were holding doors open for me and everything hurts. My bow is still here calling to me. As I lay here in the dark I can remember so many moments in time. Freezing in a tent in the mountains of New Mexico, The sun breaking over the mountains in Wyoming are no better memory than the one I have of hearing the pigs coming through the dark river bottom headed to a pile of corn on a night hunt in East Texas. Every memory is special, every memory is mine.
I have traveled half way around the world hoping to kill an animal that most folks have never heard of or would be interested in hunting. My wife and my dog are left home alone to miss me, I love them both. This trip like all those in the past and all those left before me has that one common thread. There is a bow. A simple piece of wood made powerful and beautiful by some craftsman whom I have never met. The bow will do its job; it is pure in its ability. The win or lose of the entire affair rests on me.
Most everyone who reads this babbling will be left to wonder “is he drunk or stupid”. I assure you neither are the case. There will be a few out there than understand what I’m trying to say. Some things are hard to put down on paper. I have pretty much lived my life. I have been many things father, husband, grandpa, welder, rigger, machinist, supervisor Master Mason but at any period, through the many years If you asked me “What are you” I would have said “a Bowhunter”.
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Sent from my VS987 using Tapatalk
Good luck Marty. Shoot straight.
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