Dateline 25,000 B.C.

A large deer proudly stands on a small hillock, slightly hidden by a copse of summer birch trees. Its massive antlers are clearly framed in a gap in the leaves against a shimmering blue sky. Two hunters, Og and his neighbour, Ug, dressed only in loin cloths, silently creep toward it, although heavily laden with rocks.

Og stops, points and whispers, “Ug, I’ll creep around to the right of the deer. Wait until I’m in position and then, when I nod my head, you start throwing rocks at it.” As silent as a snake, Og glides around the beast. Noticing that the deer is now feeding on some fresh grass he stops. Glancing across to Ug, he furiously nods his head, who immediately throws a rock at it. The rock bounces off Og’s forehead.

Ug rushes over to his friend, trying to stem the trickle of blood running down his face. “I’m so sorry Og,” he says, “I thought you meant …”

Og pushes him away. “Leave me alone, you moron,” he says, rubbing his head. “Look, the deer hasn’t even moved. I’ll go around behind it and scare it toward you. As it passes, you throw your rocks at him.” “Why don’t I go round the back and scare him and you throw rocks? Why is it always me Og?”

“Ug, you’re such a big wuss sometimes. Look, if you’re so scared, we’ll both throw big rocks over him, then we’ll both be here when he bolts toward us.”

Ug immediately throws a rock behind the deer.

“Not yet, you idiot! Let’s shelter first!” But it’s too late as the giant deer runs directly toward them, tumbling them over like bowling pins. After a few minutes, they struggle to their feet.

“I want go home,” Og whimpers. When they finally reach their caves, Mrs. Og is waiting, arms folded.

Ug tries to smile. “Oh, hullo Mrs. Og,” he says.

“Never mind all that,” she answers and turns sharply to her husband. “Where’s the meat?”

“Er, don’t worry honey. I’m not all that hungry. Pancakes will be fine again.”

“You mean you didn’t catch anything again, don’t you?”

“Well, it’s not easy, is it Ug? Even when you catch up with one, throwing rocks at the deer is hard work.”

Mrs. Og shakes her head in disbelief. “How do you expect to kill a deer by throwing rocks at it anyway? Oh, but you’ll both be down at the Antlers Club tonight, won’t you?” she sneers. “Full of beer and bad manners, boasting about all your hunts and what you’ve caught.”

The two intrepid hunters stare at the floor. “Look,” she continues, “it’s about time you tried something else. And I’ve got an idea.”

Og laughs. “You’ve got an idea? Last time you had an idea I was repainting the cave for a month. Look Gladys, we’re hunter/gatherers, right? You just worry about gathering leaves and berries and let us men do the hunting.” Mrs. Og gives him one of those looks that he has learned from experience mean he is talking when he should be listening.

He gives up. “Okay, okay, I’ll play your silly game. What’s this bright idea?”

“Well, you remember when we were walking through the woods, and you let that branch snap back on me and nearly put my eye out?”

“You’re not still on about that, are you? I told you it was an—”

“No, not that, but I thought that if you had something attached to the end of the branch, you could fling it a long way.”

Og looks at his wife and says sarcastically, “Well, very clever idea Gladys.

Now, all I’ve got to figure out is how do I carry a tree about with me?”

“No, not a whole tree, you numbnut. Just cut a bit off about as high as you, and that way you can carry it easily.”

“What, and tie rocks to one end to chuck at animals? They would still bounce off.”

Mrs. Og shakes her head. “No, no, think! What if we tied a piece of string to each end of the branch and kind of bowed it over so it arched and the string was under tension?”

The men look at each other and laugh. “And then what do we do? Throw these bowed things at the animal’s feet to trip them up?”

“No, you idiots. We use other, narrower pieces of wood pulled against the string and shoot them at great speed at the deer.”

“Yeah, but the narrow wood would just bounce off the animal,” Og said.

“You sharpen it!”

“What, the bow? How would that—”

“No, no. God give me strength. The narrow piece! We whittle it down into a sharp point.”

Og shakes his head again. “Then how would it stay on the string?”

“Not that end dummy! The sharp end is at the front, and we cut a slot at the back so the narrow stays on the string.”

“But what keeps the narrow straight? It would fly all over the place.”

Mrs. Og knowingly touches the side of her nose with a finger and winks. “Ah here’s another clever bit. We tie bird feathers at the back, and as it flies along, the air passing over the feathers forces the narrow to fly straight.”

Og and Ug roll on the floor laughing. Eventually Og stands. “Oh, oh dear,” he gasps. “So let’s get this straight. First, I’ve got to find a bit of springy straight wood, then bow it over and tie it with string. Then I’ve got to make a narrower bit of wood, sharpen one end, cut a nock in the other end, stick feathers on it and shoot it at a great big deer that’s running at me at 20 mph?” He pauses, then patronisingly says, “Tell you what, love, you put the pancakes on for tea and forget about the bow and narrow. It’ll never work.”

Six Months Later

At the Deer Hunter’s yearly convention a vast audience is gathered. The Master of Ceremonies, adorned with his fourteen-point headgear raises his hand. Silence descends briefly, and then he dramatically yells, “Gentlemen, meet the future!”

Og enters stage left, still in his fur loin cloth, but now wearing a tie around his neck. He is bearing a large wooden bow with one arrow in it. “This is the world’s first view of Og’s amazing invention called a bow and narrow.”

There are cheers and clapping as he raises the bow, draws it, and shoots the arrow far into the air. The crowd gasps in amazement.

“This is a great leap forward for man,” the M.C. says as he places an arm around Og’s shoulder. “This man’s invention will revolutionize hunting, warfare, and sport for the next 25,000 years.” He then waves vaguely to the side where Mrs. Og stands. “Oh, and our sincere thanks go to Mrs. Og for the delightful refreshments she has supplied for us all afterwards.”