I started around 1978-9, always had archery close by, as my father was for the most part a archery hunter, and my brother and I of course followed in his foot steps.
My first bow, I got my arse whipped for that bow. It was "surprise" a Vine maple bow, bet I was 10-11 at the time. Since we lived in a residential neighborhood my father would not allow any "real" bows to be used, so I decided to make my own. I remember to this day picking out that piece of vine maple, and remember thinking, darn this stuff does not grow very straight. I used a old butcher knife to scrape the belly, until I could get it to bend, my dad even helped me put the knocks in, boy would he come to regret that. I remember wanting a rest, so I took a "I" bolt I think they are called (loope on the end with a threaded screw area) screwed it into my new boy, and away I went.... a bowyer, and hell on anything that moved in the neighborhood.
Well one day a group of us boys got together for cowboys and indians, sounds like great fun and it was.....at least for a while. My father had given me arrows that were not long enough for his recurve, and after some time I was a pretty good little shot at least in my mind as a kid. Well, back to Cowboys and Indians..... Think there was about six of us and loving my bow, you know what side I was on. My brother on the other hand was more inclined tward guns, so of course you know what side he had taken. Now from a young boy I have been very competitive and I always play to win, and family, well don't expect me to go easy on ya, I wanna win.
The object of the game was similar to to paint ball today, we each (per se) had a home, or fort and a sort of flag, when one side got your flag the game was over. The boys on the gun side had the spring loaded suction cup guns that could shoot maybe 10 yds, my bow, and the others that were fashioned after my "new" design were in the hands of other warriors, all with real arrows and most could shoot 15-20yds at best. I was back at the flag area, and I see my brother peak around the corner of the house we were at, I waited to see his next move, meanwhile reading my bow. Screaming for his friends to back him up, he went for the flag. Being in true native form, I figured it was a good day for him to die. I sent my arrow, and sure enough connected, right between his running lights, down he went. Being overwhelmed with excitement from my outstanding shot, I was happy as heck, until I seen the blood.......You know that moment, when you think something is great, and then you think about your dads hands around your throat, and your mom saying "how could you" Well I was there in a few seconds, and even though the thought of a scalp really intrigued me from my roll playing, I figured the only scalp would be mine, hanging from my dads lodgepole. Boy was I right about that, those were not warrior screams comming from my bedroom...more like white kid meeting his immidiate maker...my butt twitches just thinking about that day!
Well, you can amagine how this ended up I was rescricted from any archery for a year, butt shined for a good day, but hey looking at my butt in the mirror, I figured I was a little native now.
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