by Rich Strother
Back in 1989, I wanted to kill a deer with archery tackle bad … no, really bad. I was fortunate enough to have been raised in the outdoors; and hunting, fishing, camping, and gardening were the norm. I decided to save my pennies and I was planning to purchase a “new” bow. I was completely ignorant of the interworkings of the modern compound bow, much less arrow size, weights, and broadhead choices. So, I did what any reasonable consumer would do. I drove to my local archery shop to seek professional help and advice from a seasoned pro.
This particular archery megastore was in the garage of a family who had decided to sell archery equipment to bums like me to support their hunting passions. I pulled into the driveway of the house and saw a sign hanging from the door that simply read, “Shop.” I entered through a door that had been cut into the side of the garage and noticed a young man working at a bench. He had a bow in a press and was twirling thread around the string. Today, I know that he was wrapping serving on the string, but on that day, he was simply twirling thread. I noticed a bare-footed lady talking on the phone with the cord wrapped around her several times. She’d take an item from the box behind her, spin around to hang it on the display and wrap another loop around herself. When the phone conversation ended, she unspun herself and greeted me with a smile and four words. “You need a bow?” How could she have known? I must be in the right place, and I had folding money in my pocket. I looked around the walls and noticed several racks with pegs sporting the latest and greatest. My eyes were drawn to the banners that were hanging from the ceiling that displayed words like Martin, PSE, Bear, High Country, and Oneida Eagle.
It was B. E. A. U. T. I. F. U. L.
My courteous host asked me what I was looking for. I lied to her and told her that I was an accomplished rifle hunter and had killed all matter of deer with a gun, and was looking forward to a new challenge. I’m sure she saw right through my B.S. (Bologna Sandwich) but was gracious nonetheless. My new best friend escorted me around to each station and gave her opinion on each brand. She used words like draw weight, let off, forgiveness, and feet per second. I noticed that the feet-per-second expression was, by far, the greatest attribute given to each bow, and it was prominently displayed in all the advertisements. I mean, who wouldn’t brag about being cool and fast, I know I was, and I did. I was mesmerized by all the cams, pulleys, sight pins, peeps, tubes and strings. She handed me a brand new, naked as a jay bird, High Country bow. It was gorgeous. It had tree bark camo and a wood grip that shined like a gemstone. I noticed a small white tag dangling from the riser. I flipped it over and my joy suddenly turned to nausea. I don’t recall the price of the bow, but I did know that I was going to be lucky to get out of there with a fiberglass stick and string at those prices. It was a bare bow, which I couldn’t afford, and I would still need arrows, a rest, some sights, and a quiver, not to mention a release, peep, and some cool puff ball string silencers. I must have hidden my disappointment well as I handed the sexy, curved mistress back to her and I told her that it just wouldn’t work for me as I was a lefty. She sighed and told me, “That may be a problem.” She only had a few bows in the store for those of us with that debilitating disease. I did notice that after this sequence of events, my new friend began to speak a little slower and used smaller words so I could understand her, and for that I was thankful. There were only two left-handed options in her store. One was a Bear youth bow and the other appeared to be what Satan himself would carry in the end of days. The Oneida bow had spikes, pulleys, wheels, and cables that were very hard for a simpleton such as me to understand. Plus, I was a nice, Christian young man, and that thing just looked evil. Just when I thought all hope was lost, I was directed to a rack in the middle of the room that had a poster on top reading, “Used Bows on Consignment.” There she was, just waiting for me … longing for me, just as I was for her. Okay, so that was a little dramatic but what I did find was a Pearson Spoiler all decked out, even down to the four-inch PVC pipe filled with concrete and capped for use as a stabilizer. My helpful guide said that she had forgotten about that bow. She said she had set the bow up for a gentleman who was going on an elk hunt. She told me the story of him buying the new setup and taking it on the hunt. She told me that the man had fallen on the rocks during his trip and dislocated his shoulder. He asked her to sell the bow for him because he was no longer able to shoot. She told me that the man was about my size, and she could make any adjustments that were needed. There was a quiver with six 1916 Gamegetter II aluminum arrows all tipped with Thunderhead 125s, sight pins, rest, a release and the crown jewel was a four-inch overdraw covered in brown moleskin. She said, “Do you think you can pull 70 Lbs?” I was a strapping young lad, so I said, “No problem.” We took the bow behind the counter to a makeshift fifteen-foot archery range that had a bale of Styrofoam against the wall and little red stickers stuck to it. My first attempt at drawing the bow, all I can remember was thinking, “Good Lord please help me.” My right forearm quivered, and my left shoulder burned, then just as I was about to die of embarrassment, the cam rolled over and found a place of comfort. My agent was ready with a sharpie, marked the string where she thought the peep should rest, and told me the importance of a consistent anchor point. I let the bow down with an ungraceful snap and she took my new lady away from me and headed to the press. She twisted the string to match my effeminate draw length and slid the peep down the string. She cut the arrows to match my short draw length to the overdraw. She bragged that I might be shooting the fastest bow in four counties due to the fact that I could pull the weight and shoot a short arrow out of that dynamic work of archery advancement. I pulled out my folding money and ran to the truck to fetch my checkbook to cover the difference. I would have traded my truck and left walking before I left without that bow.
I spent hours upon hours in the backyard shooting that bow and tinkering with the sights. I thought that I quite possibly may have been the greatest archer of all time. I was mesmerized by the heavy weight, the flight of the arrow, and that THUMP on the target. When I wore the center of the target out, I started shooting at nickel-sized stickers placed in the corners of the foam. I could shoot a four-inch group out to sixty yards and hit a pie pan consistently at eighty. I thought to myself, “Oh, those deer are in trouble now.”
It turns out that those deer were in very little trouble at all. While I may have, in my mind, been an incredible target shot, poking holes in a target does very little to translate into the harvesting of a deer. Who knew? I was a very poor and inexperienced bowhunter. I gave very little thought to wind direction, cover scent, or ambush tactics. My first season in the stand, I had shelled out a massive $300.00 to get on a lease with a buddy and some old guys in deep East Texas. 700 acres of bottomland, woods, and hay fields. Turns out the “old guys” needed some young muscle to move stands, shoot in rifles, cook, clean, gut, and drag deer. We were happy to do it. I had my own little patch of ground too far away from camp for any of the geezers to venture. I cut two pine saplings, nailed some two-by-fours to make a ladder, and built a crude platform on top. I leaned it on an oak tree and there you go, an archery killing station.
That first year, I thought that I had made the worst mistake in my life. It was impossible to kill a deer with a stick and string. Anyone who told me they had done it was lying. I shot over deer, under deer, deer at fifteen yards, deer at forty yards. It was impossible. My chest would hurt from panic at the mere sight of a deer. I was a wreck. I never killed a deer that first year and honestly didn’t know if I was up to try again or not. I still loved shooting and I was still good at it. One day, I decided to shoot a broadhead into my backyard target. I drew my bow back, found my anchor point, and glanced at my arrow rest. I noticed that my broadhead was snug to the rest. I pulled back a little further (the solid back wall of a bow was not a thing yet) and I saw my broadhead ride up the rest just as pretty as you please. I knew then that under hunting conditions and my obvious adrenaline dump when encountering deer, I was never on target.
Opening day of my second archery season I found myself perched in my previous non-killing station. I watched as a doe walked the trail 18 steps from my tree. OMG, it’s going to happen. I drew my bow without being detected. I found the vitals through my peep aaaaand … right over her back I sent it! I mentioned being a young Christian man and as I was asking for forgiveness from the vulgar obscenities that were flowing under my breath, a small fork-horned buck walked the same trail and stood right in the tracks of the doe that I had just shooed away. I was able to draw again undetected. I found the vitals through my sight and loosed the perfect arrow. The deer made three bounds and crashed into a deadfall. I could not move for several minutes; all I did was stare at the deer lying not 30 yards from my tree. I had finally accomplished the impossible, and I knew that I was finally a bowhunter.
I shot that Pearson bow for probably fifteen years after that season. Yes, I made some changes to the setup. Better sights, longer arrows for obvious reasons, and an actual stabilizer. Over the years, I gained valuable bowhunting experience. I killed a lot of deer; I missed a lot of deer. I had graduated from my handmade perches to climbing stands, lock-ons, ladder stands, pop-ups, and the occasional box blind. I started playing around with mechanical broadheads which had become the new latest and greatest craze. The wound channel and blood trails provided by some of these projectiles were astounding. My bow liked the 125-grain Spitfire broadheads, and I liked the results. Big holes and short blood trails were my thing. I did find that whatever fixed or mechanical head I used, if I shot a deer anywhere close to broadside, that arrow was going through that animal and coming out the other side. Any of us who watched those “fat man in trees whispering shows” in the 1990’s saw a change in archery arrows and equipment. We went from watching arrows blow through deer to seeing lighted knocks sticking in deer and waving like a flag through the woods. It made for good TV. Carbon arrows flooded the market and most of us followed the crowd. They advertised a smaller diameter, stronger shafts, and faster flight. It sounded great; fewer bent arrows, more penetration, flatter shooting, and more accuracy. Sold!
I finally broke down and bought my second bow. I decided on a Bowtech Admiral after shooting everything the market had to offer at the time. I loved everything about it. It was fast, flat, quiet, and smooth. I was flinging Maxima Red arrows at a blistering pace and hitting where I aimed.
My first kill with my new bow was a giant old boar. I had my Maxima arrow tipped with my favorite 100-grain Spitfire. The shot was up close and at a severe downward angle. I hit the pig high in the shoulder and was surprised when I watched the hog run off with ¾ of my arrow sticking out. I recovered the animal early the next morning and found my arrow still embedded in the meat. I chalked the lack of penetration to shot placement, big bones, and thick skin. I shot several White-Tailed deer with this same setup. I never lost an animal, but I was not getting full penetration on any arrow I shot. I saw less blood and had longer tracks to recover my animals. I had to make some changes.
Not long after I purchased my new bow, my wife became interested in bowhunting. She had killed several deer with a rifle and was crack-shot. I wish I could say I had something to do with that, but the USMC might think differently. She took to shooting a bow very easily and had quick success. She was shooting 40 lbs. and a small diameter arrow out of a whisper-quiet bow. Her shots were elegant and graceful. Most every deer she shot was close range, broadside, and dead in quick succession. She was shooting a small 100-grain fixed blade at low weight and getting pass-through shots. A smart man always learns from his wife. (Just in case she reads this.)
I am no scientist, that’s for sure. I am just a regular guy who loves to shoot things and eat them. I did, however want to understand how and why my equipment performed the way it did. I read a lot of articles and listened to a lot of podcasts relating to bow and arrow “science.” There is more information out there than you can digest in 100 years. I would read an article about ultra-heavy arrows that made a lot of sense and would make me want to shoot a sledgehammer at things just to watch them get knocked over. Then I would read something about a super-fast small-diameter arrow that made me want to throw hypodermic needles at things. Don’t even get me started on the fixed blade and mechanical broadhead debate. All I knew from my personal experience, and by watching my wife’s outcomes, is that a well-placed shot at a safe distance would have the best and most ethical outcome. I know there are a lot of very technical-minded people (nerds) who will understand terms like kinetic energy, mass, weight, dynamic efficiency, velocity, spine strength, and so on. I know these things play a role in every arrow loosed at a target or animal. While it is important to have some knowledge in these areas, it is equally important, if not more important, to know the anatomy of animals we hunt and the real-world effects of whatever projectile we choose to shoot at those animals. I have spent a lot of time over the last thirty years skinning, quartering, and butchering deer for my friends and family. I always take the time to do a quick necropsy to find the path of the projectile and to see what actually caused the death of the animal. This information has proven valuable and has made me a better and more informed hunter.
In my particular case, I was able to solve my lack of penetration problem by decreasing my bow weight to a more manageable poundage allowing me to make better shots in the field. I am now shooting a little heavier arrow and I went to a smaller cutting diameter broadhead. My research is not over. I need to shoot a lot more deer to get everything just right. My advice to anyone who cares about bowhunting and the outdoors is to do your research. Most of my research has come from spending time in the stand, in front of a target, and processing animals. Absorb and test whatever information you find and see what works best for you in your hunting situations.
