The Real McCoy: Fletching with Wild Turkey Feathers

Posted on February 5, 2012 by Nick

When it comes to wooden arrows, nothing says traditional archery like barred feathers, and when it comes to barred feathers, nothing oozes mojo more than those recovered from a wild bird. Don’t get me wrong, factory barred fletching looks great. They’re consistently marked, come in a variety of colors, and do not require the work turkey feathers do before they are ready to fletch. On the other hand, they are easy to spot and can look a bit tacky.

A SET OF LODGEPOLE PINE ARROWS WITH HARVESTED TURKEY AND GOOSE FEATHERS.

I’ve been on a primitive archery vision quest for the past few months, and see myself hunting with primitive tackle within five years time. This means wood selfbows and bamboo arrows with self-nocks and knapped obsidian – all of my own design and construction. This will be difficult, onsidering I’ve only taken a handful of animals with my semi-modern glass-powered tackle, but worthwhile nonetheless.

My path to the primitive will be wrought with a series of baby steps – some going forward, some going back – and all of them necessary. If I add one primitive element to my tackle a year, I’ll fulfill my goal as planned. I began by hunting with my own wood arrows this season. I started with aluminum, switched to wood, then went back to aluminum, and returned to wood to finish out the year. The ironic part of the fluctuation was that I had two blown opportunities and both of them occurred while hunting with aluminum. I spent all that time worrying that my cedars wouldn’t do the job, and it was the perfectly tuned modern shafting that missed both deer.

I swore off aluminum and carbon from that point on. If I’m going to miss it might as well be with an arrow of my own creation, which is the only arrow I’ll be carrying into the woods with me next year. I’m going to take it one step further by imploring genuine wild turkey or goose feathers.

Sure…it isn’t a huge step, but you’ve got to start somewhere.

I’ve compiled a few pointers for those of you interested in doing the same.

Gathering and Storing
As the majority of you are already aware, there are left wing (LW) and right wing (RW) feathers on the market. Why? Because a turkey has a left wing and a right wing. I didn’t know the two correlated at first (believe it or not) but there is most definitely a difference. Collect and store them in separate freezer bags marked RW and LW to avoid confusion. Be sure to store them in the freezer to avoid drying them out. I collected feathers for a year and ruined them all by leaving them in my basement next to a furnace.

Preparing
There are a variety of ways to prepare natural feathers for fletching, but Mickey Lotz of Primitive Archer magazine has the simplest and most concise step-by-step I’ve seen. Click here to read that article. Or check out “Cutting Canada goose feathers for fletching” by buzzzz1964 on YouTube for a more in depth look. I used a spare fletching jig clamp, a piece of sandpaper, an exacto knife, and a Lil Chopper feather chopper on my first attempt and it worked fairly well. A word to the wise, splitting the actual feather is the hardest part. Use the sharpest knife possible and be extremely careful! Work slowly and be patient. In fact, you’ll be better off doing a few at a time rather than a whole bunch at once. It can be stinky, frustrating work. You will also need to make absolutely sure that the bases of your feathers are sanded evenly or fletching will be a nightmare.

Fletching
Proceed as per usual if you are using a fletching jig and Duco cement. Exercise caution when clamping the fletching into your jig. Natural feathers are a bit softer. Goose feathers are particularly flimsy once cut. I highly recommend using Fletch Tite Platinum to dab both ends of the feathers once they are attached to the arrow. Duco cement has a way of flattening out when drying. Fletch Tite does not, and this makes for a smoother transition when gliding over your bow’s rest.

Check “Fletching primitive arrows (a better way)” by primitivepathways on YouTube if you would like to fletch the primitive way.

Feel free to share your own tips in the comments below!

 

 

 

 


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Binoculars: A bowhunter’s best friend.

Posted on January 17, 2012 by Nick

The curiosity of the whitetail deer is comical to me, the predictability of their retreat even more so. It begins with an explosion of energy: the haunches sink, the muscles contract, hooves dig, and within seconds the animal is gone — a bushy white antenna marking its retreat. But the show isn’t over. Deer don’t travel far initially. For such an alert animal the flight response of the whitetail is almost always trumped by their undeniable “need to know”.

Whether it is cockiness or curiosity, they must stop to identify the danger and a staring contest always follows. It doesn’t last long (mere moments) before logic returns and the exit resumes, but it’s quite a show. Especially if viewed through the lenses of your favorite binoculars.

That’s right, binoculars. I bet you expected “…down the shaft of your favorite arrow.”

There’s a whole lot more to hunting than killing, and observation is the bulk of it. Any hunter will admit they watch more game than they shoot. It’s all part of the process. To understand game is to observe it, and observing it without detection is a skill that transfers perfectly to hunting. Unfortunately, I’d already blown a season’s worth of opportunities by the time I purchased my first pair in 2010: a set of $30 open-hinged compacts made by Simmons.

My first pair of binos in better hands.

In retrospect I wish I’d saved for something that actually worked. The flimsy string would get tangled up around my neck, they were always out of focus, and fogged up instantly in cold weather. I cast them down to the depths of my daypack after only three hunts, and eventually removed them altogether to make room for my peanut butter sandwich.

I suffered through the 2010 season bino free, but the need for them was undeniable. I missed some really great opportunities because of their absence. One particular instance still haunts me, as I am convinced it would have resulted in a venison payday. I spent an entire morning watching a grove of pines, in which I was convinced deer were present. My eyes continually caught a flicker of white or brown amidst the vegetation, but at 50 yards I couldn’t be sure. I wrote it off as leaves falling or branches swaying in the morning wind. This went on for three extremely cold hours, and I’d had enough. The ridge erupted the moment I stood up. There were three deer within the group that I could see, and I would have been proud to shoot any of them. Binoculars would have at least kept me hunting long enough to create an opportunity. The season ended a few days later and I still had both of my tags.

Binoculars can help you identify game and areas of dense cover. Why guess when you could know for sure?

To avoid a repeat, I purchased my second pair of binoculars the following summer in preparation for the 2011 season. They were decent, an improvement over my first pair. I bought them used from a liquidator and thought they were a steal for under $50. Unfortunately, they were far too powerful for the kind of hunting I was doing. Using them felt like driving with the wrong prescription glasses. And they fogged up, even in the warmest of conditions.

I realized that quality optics would require a less frugal investment on my behalf, and began browsing the local sporting goods stores to find out how deeply I would have to dig should I decide to take the plunge. I didn’t like the answer and would have shelved the whole thing had my buddy Will (www.thewilltohunt.com) not introduced me to Hawke Optics via his blog. The price was right and the product looked great, so I made a few inquiries via Twitter and was introduced to the people at Hawke. We immediately hit it off.

What impressed me the most about Hawke their genuine interest in my binocular plight. They were extremely knowledgeable and never pushy despite knowing I was green to the optics world. They asked a dozen questions, and despite my fumbling through the answers, were surprisingly patient.

We were able to establish the following criteria to narrow the field a bit:

  • Compact enough to stalk and still-hunt with (especially considering my tackle)
  • Rugged enough to handle being tossed around
  • Resistant to Michigan’s moisture and humidity
  • Low powered to avoid being overwhelming
  • Affordable

At that point, I felt comfortable enough to go with their recommendations and purchased the 8×32 Endurance model.

I finished the 2011 season with them, and couldn’t be happier despite not filling a tag. In fact, my favorite hunt wasn’t really a “hunt” at all. I got a late start and spent the morning stalking a field absolutely loaded with bedded deer, five feet at a time. I was able to get within 20 yards of a pair of does simply by using my Hawkes to determine where they weren’t and it was absolutely thrilling. The grass was tall, the ground was muddy, my longbow was ready, and my heart was thumping. It ultimately ended in the situation described at the beginning of my post, but I am a better hunter because of it.

The Endurance binoculars by Hawke Optics are the real deal and perfect for what I do. They passed my aforementioned criteria with flying colors and surprised me in other ways. For starters, I love the adjustment dial. Usually, you get a really small wheel that gets loose with frequent use. The dial on the Endurance binoculars is larger and located near your eyes. This makes adjustments easy, even under duress. I’m also a big fan of the casing, which has a tacky rubber exterior that is extremely comfortable and protects the lenses well. I have no problem leaving them at my feet regardless of the conditions.

You can't deny how cool these things look.

You can't deny how cool these things look.

Their greatest perk is their ability to resist fog. Michigan hunters experience rollercoaster temperatures during deer season and they didn’t fog up on me once. Not even after leaving them in the snow for several hours on a frigid, 17-degree December morning.

Traditional bowhunting is about getting close to the animals you are hunting. Binoculars can help you accomplish this goal. They encourage you to think logically, move carefully, and be patient. They allow you better scout and observe the animals you hunt, making you a more efficient hunter. Finally, they make your time in the woods more enjoyable. I spend a lot of time with mine, even when I’m not hunting and I guarantee you will as well.

At $189.00 for the black pair and $199.00 for the green, the Endurance model is a tremendous value. Binoculars are not the kind of thing that you can cut corners on. You either buy a good pair, or you don’t. If you don’t, you aren’t going to be happy with the results and will spend more time messing with them than you will hunting. Quality binoculars pay for themselves, and Hawkes are outstanding.

Check them out if you are in the market! And please feel free to share your experiences with them in the comments below.

For more information visit www.hawkeoptics.com or find them on Twitter @hawkeoptics.

Posted in Archery Tackle, Bowhunting | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Crossing Over – American Leathers Big Shot Crossover

Posted on December 25, 2011 by Nick

Those of you who’ve read my blog in the past may recall my reviewing the Big Shot glove by American Leathers at the behest of my father. In it I mention not purchasing one of my own due to the price ($59.95), but that was only part of the story.

Ultimately my reason for not purchasing one of John’s American made gloves was the nylon material he uses in the construction of the finger tips. I am a leather man. That is the only material I like on the tips of my gloves. I feel out of control with any other material. I’ve had horrible experiences with nylon, calf hair, plastic, etc. Leather is the only material that puts my arrow on target with any degree of consistency. I find everything else too slick.

I shared this with John at the Kalamazoo Expo in January and he recommended the Big Shot Crossover, a version of the Big Shot featuring a stitched leather face over nylon inserts. His latest creation. It sounded perfect, but he didn’t have any with him for testing. Having spent my allowance anyway, I reluctantly shelved the idea of my own Big Shot for the time being. Fate would inevitably intervene several months later.

I was experiencing major equipment woes by the time I posted Dad’s Big Shot review in September. I bounced around from glove to glove during winter league and my shooting grew inconsistent as a result. The primary culprit? Finger pain. I’ve always believed a thinner glove meant a cleaner release because you can feel the string. I’ve recently found the opposite to be true, at least in my case. Gloves offering little finger protection may work well during hunting season, but can be murder on your fingers during months of heavy shooting. I’ve found that discomfort of this nature ultimately leads to a poor release. It can create target panic, inconsistent anchoring, and plucking/torquing the string. Injury and discomfort negatively effects performance. Any athlete will testify to this fact.

By November I was fed up. Something had to change, and fast.

I contacted John after cutting a particularly painful shooting session short, and asked if I could try one out. A package arrived three days later with a brand new Crossover and I immediately put it to work. 

I found it awkward at first. The stalls were a bit stiff for my liking. I wasn’t accustomed to the added protection of the plastic shoots beneath the stalls and shot erratically as a result. On the other hand, the texture of the leather face provided the natural cordovan feel I’d grown accustomed to and the spandex backing made for an extremely comfortable fit. Two coats of Montana Pitch Blend worked the majority of the stiffness out and made the glove a pleasure to right out of the box.

Upon release, the stalls yielded the perfect amount of friction – slick but not overly so. While the subtle change in feel forced me to alter my release, it was ultimately for the better. Gloves with little finger protection are easily manipulated by the tension of the string, which causes everything to give beneath it. The skin essentially folds around the string while drawing, making it difficult to release without physically dropping it. Human fingers vary in finger strength so the dominent finger holds the majority of the tention. When the string is dropped, the fingers do not release simultaneously because they are not gripping with equal strength. Plucking the string can occur as a result. The string should slip from the fingers to achieve a crisp release.

By this logic, a glove that resists the tension of the string and is slick enough to allow it to slip with little effort, will result in the crispest release. This is exactly what the Crossover provides. It offers the practicality and comfort of a glove, with the functionality and protection of a smooth cordovan tab.

In fact, I tried shooting my old tab for comparison purposes and was amazed at the similarities. I’ve always been able to transition from glove to tab and back again following a few days of adjustment. I found transitioning to the Crossover similar. My groupings initially suffered a bit but quickly tightened up after only three weeks of light practice (10-20 arrows a night).

Has it made me a better shot? The jury is out, but I believe it has. My hand is pain free and remains totally comfortable while shooting. If you are comfortable, you are relaxed and that results in better shooting. That is good enough for me.

The Crossover is also a wonderful hunting glove. It can be worn above or beneath a winter glove and you can pull the stalls off your fingers as needed without losing them. I particularly love the Crossover for cold weather hunting because the added protection decreases the burn of drawing with frozen finger tips. Forgetting to remove your glove while clearing snow or debris from the frozen ground will usually result in a wet, leathery, shooting disaster. The Big Shot gloves in general are a whole lot more resistent. I crawled through a muddy field with mine recently and it hardly phased it. Though I do recommend the Pitch Blend if you plan on doing things of that nature. It is a must, and $7.99 is a small price to pay for your $59.99 investment. You can use the remainder on your quivers and arm guards!

Is the Big Shot Crossover for you?

The difference between the traditional Big Shot and Big Shot Crossover boils down to preference. I’m not a fan of the traditional Big Shot’s nylon face and prefer the texture, feel, and friction of leather. The Crossover was my obvious choice for this reason and I would buy a second without hesitation. The Crossover also seems to have been influenced by the great Howard Hill. In his book Hunting the Hard Way he mentions building a similar glove with leather stalls reinforced with shoots for added protection when shooting heavy bows. I may only be shooting 47#-56# but my fingers simply can’t take the strain that his could. I embrace the Crossover for this reason. If you shoot a heavier bow, it is definitely the glove for you. I highly recommend you try one. I’m absolutely hooked on mine.

What better way to spend that Christmas money thats burning a hole in your pocket?

Visit the American Leathers website for ordering details or call the Turners at (208) 423-5781. They are fine people with an outstanding American product. If you already own one, feel free to share your Big Shot experiences in the comments below!

Posted in Archery Tackle, Bowhunting, Shooting, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Stick and String Launches New Online Magazine

Posted on December 23, 2011 by Nick

Earlier this Fall I was approached by Ned Miller, archery enthusiast, owner of Crows Head Outfitters, and moderator for the upstart traditional archery resources site www.stickandstring.com/.

I discovered the Stick and String forums in March after finding their podcast on iTunes. What impressed me the most about Ned’s operation was the variety of content presented.  The community isn’t as large as some of the others I’d seen but the diversity of the members and the quality of their posts was really refreshing. Stick & String has it all, from bowhunters to bowyers, Tolkien fans, and primitive archery enthusiasts. And they welcome you in with open arms.

Regrettably, I didn’t participate much at first. I sort of lingered on the outskirts and posted the occasional photo. I didn’t feel the forum moved fast enough for me. I would subscribe to a topic and wait days for someone to respond to it. That changed fairly quickly. I grew weary of the other boards and started checking Stick & String daily. Something was definitely brewing.

Ned contacted me by phone shortly after. Within five minutes I knew I had a brother at arms. Having received similar vibes from me, he invited me to join him and contribute where I saw fit. This included being interviewed for the Stick & String podcast and writing for the publication of the same name.

I was flattered. I am still flattered.

Not only do I get to write for a truly unique archery publication, but I’ve joined an incredible staff of like-minded individuals, with a variety of different interests, who are as passionate about preserving the culture of traditional archery/bowhunting as I am. So much so they are willing to donate their time and effort to bring these resources to the masses. It is an exciting, contagious atmosphere and I am ecstatic to be a part of it! I’ve yet to see an archery magazine as organic and diverse as this one. There is something in it for everyone and the online version is absolutely free. All you need is an issuu account.

 

So without further adieu, I’d like to present Volume 1 of Stick & String magazine.

If you would like to view the Stick & String podcast, click here.

Feel free to leave your feedback below! We are looking for ways to improve and welcome constructive criticism.

Enjoy!

Posted in Archery events, Archery Tackle, Arrow making, Bowhunting, DIY, Life, Shooting | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Building Safer and Better Arrows

Posted on December 3, 2011 by Nick

My latest and best set of arrows. Properly spined, straightened, tapered, and aligned.

No matter how good you think you are at something, there is always room for improvement. It’s a fact of life. Just when you think you are making strides, something comes along to turn your world upside down and make you approach something differently. I’ve recently experienced such an event in my arrow making.

I thought I made a fairly solid set of wood arrows. They flew true, they grouped consistently, and they looked pretty good too. They may not be as cosmetically appealing as some of the more professional sets I’ve seen, but they definitely have their own style. I’ve even sold or traded a few dozen to friends and received nothing but positive feedback.

I’m especially proud of the set I made for my buddy Will at www.thewilltohunt.com. He’s a fellow b0whunter and blogger who had recently purchased a longbow and wanted to try a set of wood arrows. I had some orange Stalker Stain on hand and thought I would do something special for him. The arrows below are the result and he was extremely happy with them – to the point of not wanting to shoot and ruin them. I anticipated this and sent him a set of ramin shafts in addition, figuring he could use them as beater arrows. I’ve found ramin to be a good solid shaft for a beginner and thought they would be the perfect solution; and they were…to a point.

Will's arrows: orange Stalker Stain on german pine with banana fletching.

A few days later I was horrified to discover that one of the shafts failed on Will while he was drawing, sending shards of wood into his bow hand. He was alright and we had a laugh or two, but I was really distraught about it. I started second-guessing my abilities and considered never building another arrow for anyone ever again.

However, once the shock wore off and the logic set in, I decided that giving up wasn’t the solution and finding out the cause of the failure was. I had a hunch the shaft had been of poor quality with excessive grain runout. A plausible solution for sure, but there had to be more to it then that. Why did the arrow have to break towards Will’s hand? Fortunately, a video posted by a fellow Stick and String forumite shed some light on the subject.

Traditional archery wood arrows – get the grain

Eureka! The logic hit me like a truck.

The grain of a wooden arrow and the direction it is pointing are important factors for optimal safety and consistency. An arrow actually has a top and a bottom. To determine the top from the bottom, simply find the sharp grains of the arrow and note where they point (up or down the shaft). If the arrow is nocked, the bottom grain should point towards the string, the top should point towards the bow. Make sure the arrow is aligned correctly by attaching your nock so the opening is perpendicular to the grain of the shaft as seen below.

Photo courtesy of www.stickbow.com

In theory, aligning this way should ensure that if the arrow should break along the grain, the sharp portion will not break into the shooters bow hand.

Secondly, wood shafts are generally weaker when pressure is applied perpendicular to the grain and stronger when it is applied parallel to the grain. If you spine your own arrows and want to achieve the greatest consistency, this method will allow you to locate the stiffest side of the arrow, and batch your arrows based on the spine of that particular side. You will be pairing the arrows with the least amount of spine variation and consistency will improve as a result.

I didn’t adhere to these recommendations in the earliest days of my arrow making and Will’s ramin arrows came from those batches. Had I aligned my nocks/grains correctly, I might have saved him a few slivers. Then again, I might not have. There are those who believe that it is impossible to predict how an arrow will crack or break regardless of how you align the nock. Personally, I don’t see the cons of playing it safe. If the possibility of safer and more consistent arrows can be achieved at the cost of a few more minutes per shaft, why not put forth the extra effort?

You’ve already decided to build your own, build them correctly.

Note: I would like to thank www.stickbow.com for their wonderful arrow making resources, Woodenarrows for creating the video, and Jason Rasher (Hillbillified) from www.stickandstring.com for posting it. I’ll be contributing more on the topic of arrow building in the future. As I get better, you’ll get better! Feel free to post a comment if you have any questions or arrow making tips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Archery Tackle, Arrow making, Shooting | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

A Moment in the Snow. A stickbow hunter’s first deer.

Posted on November 19, 2011 by Nick

 –This is my submission for the Sportsman Channel Writing Contest for Hunters hosted by the Outdoor Blogger Network.–

This hunt took place on December 22, 2009 and was the highlight of my very first Michigan whitetail season. I was taking advantage of an archery-only hunting opportunity offered to employees of Grand Valley State University, which permitted me to hunt designated GVSU property from December 18-January 1 while students were away on the holiday break. I would like to thank GVSU for the opportunity as it is a wonderful program. Grand Valley’s main campus is located in Allendale, Michigan.

A frigid December morning found me stomping across 200 yards of crunchy, white, goodness. The field was cake-like – two parts snow, two parts ice, one-part water – a recipe only a bowhunter would love. The morning sun felt wonderful, spreading warmth through my flannel-hunting shirt. The wind pecked at my face and hands. The air was thick with moisture and smelled like Lake Michigan despite it being 50 miles to the west. It was the perfect morning for magic to happen.

I was hunting a wooded ravine sandwiched between two fields. It was fairly shallow but complicated. With a multitude of slopes and dips there were few ways in which to pass from one side to the other save for a hoof-battered draw that slashed through the shallowest end and climbed into a wooded, acorn-littered flat. Assessing the routine of my furry, brown friends wasn’t terribly difficult. I’d kicked up several does on the hike in and knew they were bedding in the fields. The presence of a food source made their leaving unlikely considering the time of year. This would be my trump card. Positioning myself on the edge of the ravine would create excellent stickbow possibilities. I would intercept deer moving from field-to-field at less than 30 yards if I were patient. But I would need suitable cover to do so.

I almost always hunt from the ground and finding cover large enough to hide a man of my stature and a 66″ longbow was practically non-existent on either side of the ravine. With no time to scout I’d have to cobble something together on the fly. Fortunately, salvation arrived in a felled oak climbing up the side of the ravine to my right. I couldn’t help but thank God for the opportune way in which it fell. Its trunk and tangled branches provided optimal bowhunting cover with little modification. My vantage point was optimal and the branches completely masked my outline without getting in the way of my draw.

Satisfied, I removed the noisy debris at my feet, collapsed into my hunting stool, nocked an arrow, and waited. An hour passed and that familiar state of comfortable alertness overcame me. The woods began to stir. Black squirrels chattered. The diligent work of a woodpecker echoed through the ravine, cascading off of every tree. Chickadees hopped close enough to grab them.

“I am a bowhunter.” I thought. “I did it.” And I had. After 26 years of having absolutely no interest in hunting, I bought a stickbow, spent the summer getting acquainted with it, and was now enjoying a beautiful winter morning entertaining the possibility of shooting my first deer.

I would have chuckled had my thoughts not been interrupted by a wave of brown heading for the draw in front of me. My heart began to pound. They would be in range within moments! I eased the stool out from under me, lowered a knee to the snow, and nocked an arrow.

They continued on unaware of my movements and stopped only after reaching the safety of their destination. I shifted to my right to find the appropriate shooting lane and was finally able to get a good look at them. Four plump does. One of them (a little bit rounder than the others) strayed from the group and veered broadside on her way into the field behind me. There was nothing between her and I but the trunk of the oak and a matter of yardage. I picked a spot behind her right shoulder, raised a bit to clear the oak, and began to draw.

A series of thumps erupted to my left as I reached my anchor. I turned my head just enough to view the disturbance and was utterly bewildered by the sight. There were now at least fifteen deer moving into the draw and headed straight for me. I froze, laboring to breathe. My window of opportunity was closing quickly with the presence of so many deer. I would have to act or risk freezing up. I could tell that a few of them were already curious. It was now or never. A quick glance confirmed there weren’t any bucks so I switched gears and reverted back to the original doe who was surprisingly unaffected by the chaos surrounding her. She’d stayed just as I had left her; head down, tail flickering, and feeding frantically on the acorns under her nose.

I picked a spot behind the crease in her shoulder and focused on it. I’ll never forget the moments that followed: the tension leaving my back; the string sliding from the tip of my glove; the vibration of my bow as the arrow left the rest; the relief as the knock cleared the riser…it was perfect. All of it.

And it flew perfectly, disappearing into the flank of the doe with a wet “thump”! She pitched hard to the left, heading back the way she’d arrived. Chaos ensued as the herd dispersed. With my eyes transfixed on the retreating doe, I located my hunting stool and collapsed into it with a puff of white snow. My heart pounded. My body shook. ”Giver her time,” I thought. But that proved agonizing as the minutes ticked painfully by.

“Give her time.” I repeated.

I backed into the opposite field and phoned my Dad to remain calm and pass the time. I recalled the events through shaky breaths, leaving out nary a detail. We were both newbies and I could tell he was as excited as I was. We decided I should wait at least 20 minutes to avoid pushing her further and forcing an unfortunate situation.

Twenty grueling minutes passed and I began to shiver. It was time. I had to know…had to find my doe. I left my blind, located my arrow, and began looking for blood. The aluminum shaft lay approximately 35 yards away and was thickly coated with red, bubbling blood from broadhead to fletching. The impact had bent the aluminum shaft in half. Powdery red sprinkles and clumps of matted fur surrounded it. If the damage was any indication, the arrow had punctured both lungs. She couldn’t have made it far.

I pushed on, moving passed the treeline and into the field. The blood became thicker and more frequent. Her tracks elongated, acquiring a trench-like quality, and marking the end of my search. She had doubled back and collapsed in a thicket to my right – no more than 30 yards from where my arrow struck. Her eyes were wide and glassed. Her beautiful brown coat gleamed in the morning sun. Blood trickled from a quarter-sized wound in her flank, matting her fur and pooling in the snow below.

She was still. I was amazed at how peaceful she looked. I crouched next to her and stroked the top of her head. The weight of what I had done suddenly washed over me. Having never killed a creature as large as a deer before, I shouldered the grief with a heavy heart and thanked God for it. A man should feel remorse whenever he takes a life. But grief quickly gave way to happiness. Tragedy became accomplishment. My longbow had performed beautifully, putting meat on my table and memories in my mind.

The phone rang and I heard Dad’s voice echo on the other end; “Well, did you find your deer?”

My voice shook with the emotion welling up inside of my chest.

“Deer down Dad…I did it!”

I used a Bama Hunter Longbow, Easton 2117 arrows, and a 145g Ace broadhead on this hunt.

 

Posted in Bowhunting, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Dammit’…shoulda’ stayed in bed!

Posted on November 4, 2011 by Nick

Yep...I can relate.

I’ve had my share of bad mornings and botched hunts. Mornings, in which a series of unfortunate events sent me hurtling passed calm and into the realm of an angry two-year-old shortly after rolling out of bed. Sunday, October 10 was that kind of morning.

My daughter awoke at 4 a.m. and didn’t go back to sleep until five. I didn’t set my alarm correctly and woke up at 6:40 a.m. I stumbled out of bed, took a shower, and reached for my contacts only to find that the old set had dried up and I was out of spares. I’d never hunted while wearing glasses and doing so in October with 40% precipitation, and gusting winds was less than ideal. I decided it wouldn’t be a big deal if I left my nose uncovered, painted my face, and wore a cap to cut the glare.

Obstacle overcame. The next one…not so much.

This time lightning struck in the form of a misplaced set of car keys. It took me 15 agonizing minutes to find them while covered head-to-toe in Under Armor and wool. I was now sweating, itching, and miserable. By the time I stripped a layer, re-sprayed with scent eliminating spray, found my keys, and hit the road it was 7:15. The public land I hunt is only a few minutes from my house but it was already getting light. I tried to remain positive regardless.

“That’s okay…you’re almost there. It’s a beautiful morning. You get to hunt! Enjoy it.”

And then, while nearing the grassy lot of the designated hunting area, it dawned on me I’d forgotten my wallet and my tags.

“@$#%@$%&!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I think I actually bruised the palm of my hand on the steering column by the time I got back to the house; and really ramped it up after discovering my wallet was under the driver’s seat the entire time. I won’t mention how long I looked for it but let’s just say that Bruce Banner had long since checked out and I was in an Incredible Hulk-like rage by the time I figured everything out.

Eight o’clock found me on the edge of the woods, gathering my things, and trying to wash away the events of the morning. I wasn’t expecting much at this point but did my best to shelve the pessimism. After all, I’d experienced several successful hunting situations that had less than ideal beginnings. I carried these memories in with me like a sack of feed corn, scattering them into the wind and hoping for history to repeat itself. Ultimately, I would need all the optimism I could muster.

I no more than entered the treeline and spooked the biggest deer I’d seen all season. It’s tail was at least a foot and a half high and my heart sank as I watched it bob over the valley floor and out of sight. It had been browsing within 20 yards of  the blind I built earlier that summer and abandoned for greener pastures. Had the dominoes stayed put and the stars aligned, I would have been in my blind well before first light and had a chance at a really nice deer.

“@$#$%&%@!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Nature hadn’t finished torturing me yet but I was bound and determined to hunt. Like it or lump it…I was going to make something happen if it killed me. I cautiously ventured over the opposing ridge and to a clearing I’d been hunting the previous week. An empty creek bed cleaved it in two and I’d crafted a blind on the other side by thinning out a thicket. I hadn’t been there in over a week, having attended a conference in Texas. I spread a brick of Deer Crack before leaving to see if there was anything in the area while I was away. I got more than I bargained for.

The Deer Crack was completely wiped out, the entire thicket was trashed, and there was sign everywhere. My clearing was now a whitetail super highway! I was elated by the discovery but felt a twinge of anxiety creep through my stomach. My spot was gone and my morning plans with it. The ridges surrounding the ravine were loaded with jack pines but there wasn’t enough foliage around them to fashion a blind. I’d have to resort to old school tactics and implore a trick a friend taught me: find the biggest tree downwind of sign and sit as still as possible in front of it.

This would have been a great idea had my hunting stool been stable enough to handle the slope of the ridge. Nope…that would have been asking FAR too much. I would have to sit directly on the ground, which is never a good idea on a cold/damp Michigan morning in late October. I gave it a shot but made it an hour at the most. The ground was draining my body heat too quickly and I couldn’t stop shaking. That means”Game Over” for any hunter.

I decided to back out for fear of ruining future opportunities in the area but the need for a new hunting spot was apparent. I hadn’t checked the opposite edge of the property and dedicated the remainder of my morning to the opportunity. The terrain was interesting – one long gradual slope that led into a marsh. A little bit of scouting revealed multiple sets of tracks and piles of nibbled acorns. Deer had been here at some point and would most likely return as temperatures dropped. It seemed promising so I scanned the top of the slope to find a place to sit. A felled maple caught my eye near its peak, approximately 20 yards away. It wasn’t entirely stripped of its leaves yet and resembled a giant pumpkin-colored bush. I found the center to be fairly hollow upon further inspection. It reminded me of a giant nest, complete with an autumn canopy. Cozy. Perfect. I cut a few shooting lanes, cleared the floor of noisy debris, rolled in a log or two for a seat, and made myself at home. I spent the next few hours in that blind and liked it enough to return that evening. I had an absolute blast and didn’t see a damn thing! I felt refreshed. Rejuvenated.

Hunting is kind of like black coffee in that sense: it’s bitter yet delicious, and always leaves you craving more. There truly is no such thing as a “botched” hunt when hunting is a blessing to begin with. Even when I hate it, a part of me will enjoy every second of it, and I’m sure that many of you feel the same.

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Juniper Junction

Posted on October 17, 2011 by Nick

Every October I dedicate a week’s worth of vacation to hunting with my father behind my grandfather’s hunting cabin. I usually schedule this for mid-October but a friend’s wedding on opening day forced me to hunt that week rather than make two trips. I’ve never enjoyed hunting opening week of deer season. The weather is notoriously bad. It is either raining every single day or far too warm for whitetails to move until after dark. With little hope of seeing deer, I wasn’t ecstatic about the situation. Dad shared my sentiments but thought we could overcome our situation with a lot of luck and a little bit of corn. Michigan had recently lifted the baiting ban and hunting was now an entirely new ballgame. I’ve never been a proponent of baiting but made an exception since land and time were limited. We wanted to see deer and if a bucket of fermented apples and a couple bags of corn could help…so be it.

I spent Monday and Tuesday hunting out of my new treestand and enjoyed it. I had never hunted out of one before and appreciated the added vision it provided. Contrarily, it felt redundant and a bit limiting to be committed to one particular place. I found myself wanting to climb down and rove around on several occasions and eventually did so Wednesday morning. I’d had enough after two days of nothing but squirrels and birds. I would have been more patient had there been more time or sign but nothing was hitting my bait and I was heading home on Friday. I needed to change spots but having only one stand meant I’d be hunting on the ground the remainder of the trip. There was nothing wrong with that but I didn’t know where to go. There were several ground blinds in the area but either one of them was a total shot in the dark at this point.

Fortunately, Dad’s spot on the bank of a small pond was every bit as hot as mine was icy cold. He watched the same deer every morning: a pair of twin does with dark coats and a slightly larger doe with big hips and long ovular ears. He named them “Frick n’ Frack” and “Big Ears” to make them easier to reference. They would wander in from the opposite bank at first light, disappear for an hour or so, and return to wipe his bait out at around 9:15.

"THE POND"

An opportunity for a shot had yet to present itself despite the close proximity of our bait to his blind. He’d already been busted on two occasions with very little movement. The deer were skittish and always seemed to be looking at him from a frontal position. We had a hunch their anxiety might be predator related. Dad spotted a coyote roaming around the area at 9:30 a.m. and we received a frantic text from my mother stating the neighbors spotted a yote in their yard a bit earlier. Encounters of this nature are very odd. You always hear coyotes in the area but you hardly ever see them. We could only guess it was hunger forcing them to act against their nature. This didn’t improve our hunting any.

We decided our chances would be better if we hunted the pond as a team; so we grabbed our longbows, tuned up a bit in the yard, and headed into the woods at around three to rebait and get situated. It was a beautiful night to be in the woods: sunny and cool with a stiff northern wind licking our faces. My doubts subsided as everything seemed to be falling into place. It was going to be a great hunt, whether I shot anything or not.

We crossed the pond to the opposite bank and entered the ridge via a break in the treeline. It was the only well-defined to access the ridge and was obviously the designated path for all things four-legged. It was proceeded by an old trail – overgrown and forgotten – yet still slashing through the woods like a wound refusing to close. What used to be matted earth was now caked with fallen leaves and various forms of vegetation; a combination I found extremely hard to move quietly through but would be obsolete once we found cover.

The trail climbed up and over the crest of the ridge, which was littered with juniper bushes and small firs collectively thick enough to form a wall in some places. “I think you want to be in one of those bushes,” Dad whispered. “You could thin one of them out, cut a shooting lane overlooking the pond, and have a great shot at anything going to or coming from the bait pile. They always leave through that opening!” It all made sense to me so we went to work immediately on a large bush amidst a grove of small firs. The latter of which would hide me completely from game approaching from the rear and right flank and disguise my silhouette from game approaching head on from the bait. The lack of cover in front of me would also allow me to maneuver my longbow uninhibited. By working with natural cover we had created an ideal bowhunting situation in approximately 20 minutes.

With little left to do, I sent Dad on his way and spent a few minutes drawing my bow to get comfortable. I’d brought the shortest bow in my stable: my 61″ Hollenbeck hybrid with Selway quiver. I’d had a hunch I’d need the most compact rig possible and was pleased I followed my gut. As much as I prefer them, longer bows are not always conducive to hunting from natural cover. I find bows between 60-62″ perfect for situations such as these and my Hollenbeck fills the need beautifully. As hard as it was to leave my brand new 64″ Bama Expedition in the sock, I felt I made the right call for this hunt.

My blind at "Juniper Junction". As you can see by the position of my chair, I was actually sitting sideways so my shoulders would align with the entrance of my blind, which served as my primary shooting lane. I would eventually spot Frick 'n Frack through the gap in the trees above my bow.

An hour passed and that familiar state of comfortable alertness washed over me – the noises and voices of the woods with it. It was a beautiful night. The serenity of the wind rustling through the trees made it far too easy to daydream and the sun seemed to hang a bit lower each time awoke. It was now 6:30 but looked a whole lot later beneath the canopy of the forest. If I was going to see a deer, it would be within the next 45 minutes.

Leaves crunched to my left and the hair on the back of my neck began to rise. My heartrate quickened. I shot a glance through the branches over my shoulder, fully expecting to find a squirrel chattering at me, but there was nothing there. Another leaf crinkled. Something was definitely coming and it was too quiet to be a squirrel. I cautiously slipped an arrow from my Selway and nocked it, making sure to keep my thumb behind the nock and string to dull the snap. I looked again, this time lingering long enough to catch a pair of does eek passed my blind at less than 15 yards. They were the weirdest whitetails I’d ever seen; chocolate brown coats, circular ears, short snouts, and droopy tails. They were identical in every way with the exception of their weight as the lead doe was a bit larger. She was also bolder, wasting no time heading to water while the other lingered by the corner of my blind.

“So this is Frick and Frack,” I thought. “In the fur!”

I was so distracted by their appearance, I barely noticed a third and slightly larger deer slip out of the woods behind them. She was beautiful and drastically different from the other two with a lighter coat, bigger hips, and large ovular ears sticking straight out the sides of her head. This had to be “Big Ears”. I was sure of it. I readied my bow and drew a slow albeit jagged breath to calm down. They would be around the firs within moments and the lunacy would begin.

Frick appeared first, stopping broadside at 15 yards to root around the foliage with her snout. I couldn’t ask for a better opportunity but wanted a better look at Big Ears. I waited for what couldn’t have been more than a minute or two but felt like an eternity. The walls of my blind flexed in front of me. There was a deer within feet of my bow. I deduced it was Frack, leaving Big Ears the only unanswered part of the equation and she was the deer I wanted to shoot. Where was she?

I was growing more impatient by the second. Frick was milling around the vegetation in front of me; Frack was at the side of my blind; and Big Ears could be anywhere. I was borderline frantic. Another minute or two passed. The week was nearly over and my hunting opportunities were limited. I really wanted to fill one of my tags before heading back to Grand Rapids. I decided to give it one more minute. If Big Ears didn’t show, I was would shoot Frick – plain and simple. I lowered my left knee to shoot and the cool dampness of the freshly scraped earth seemed to have a calming effect. I let exactly one minute pass, counting every second.

“Times up.” I was ready to fill my freezer.

Suddenly Big Ears emerged on the bank approximately 25 yards away! She had stayed within my blind spot, walking directly to the pond instead of milling around with the other two. It was apparent that water and corn were her first priority and she didn’t have time to be cautious. Besides, what could she possibly have been afraid of? She’d been practicing the same routine for days, maybe weeks, with no ill-effects. I found her nonchalantness both intriguing and ironic as it probably saved her life by guiding her halfway to Dad’s blind and out of my comfort zone. She was safe…at least from my arrow. Her life was now in the hands of my father which were probably on his bow and looking to end it quickly. We would know within moments.

I had pressing matters of my own. Frick had finished with whatever hors d’oeuvres she was munching on and was ready for the main course. I had little idea as to where Frack was. I lost sight (and sound) of her at the re-emergence of Big Ears. They were both extremely skittish. Twitchy. A single shot would send them both bounding into the next county. It wouldn’t matter how quiet my longbow was. I would have one shot and would have to make it count. I picked a spot behind her left shoulder and slowly raised my bow. She walked forward, glancing towards the pond. I had a feeling she was leaving. It was now or never. I drew, anchored, and let the arrow fly.

My hopes were high but the arrow was higher. Frick was as quick as she was skittish. She dug in with her haunches, ducked the arrow, and catapulted 180 degrees in one frantic motion. The insanity that ensued was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Frack exploded to my right, nearly taking that back corner of my blind with her, and the twins disappeared into the forest. I sank to the floor to assess the situation and get my bearings. I missed. I did everything right and missed.

It is hard to describe that feeling – like flying out in the bottom of the ninth with the bases loaded and the tying run on third. The kind of hit that is hard and deep enough to be a grand slam but short enough for the outfielder to rob you at the fence. From hero to zero. Heartbreaking. Totally and completely awesome to observe; but heartbreaking nonetheless. I felt like crying but wound up laughing instead. I couldn’t wait to tell Dad and eventually all of you.

But the story wasn’t over.

A clamor arose to my left followed by a series of loud thumps. “Hooves on moss!” I thought. There was a deer on my left flank. Maybe two. I nocked my second arrow and waited. At that moment a streak of brown bolted from the pond, climbed the ridge to my right, and disappeared before I could comprehend what was going on. The suddenness of the encounter startled me to the point of jerking my arrow completely off the rest and into the bushes. Simultaneously, a shadowy hump lurched from a tangle to my left and bounded out of site. There had been a deer there after all.

“Well that figures.” I said aloud.

And then it hit me; Dad must have shot (or shot at) Big Ears. There was no other explanation; no reason for her to act the way she did, especially considering how calm a deer she was. I noticed Dad emerge from the opposite bank as I finished gathering my things. He looked excited. I wouldn’t have to wait long for my answer.

“There was another deer!” He whispered as we walked out. “I think it was a buck! Something scared the hell out of her and it wasn’t me! I never got a shot.”

Daylight faded by the time we hit the trail back to the cabin. My miss was the prevailing topic of conversation. We were both happy I missed Frick. I didn’t really want to kill her. She wasn’t a bad deer per say but not my first choice. She simply wasn’t my deer. I felt ashamed for letting anxiety force me into a shot I didn’t want to take. I would have enjoyed the accomplishment; I would have enjoyed the meat; but I wouldn’t have been proud of the kill. Better to let a young doe like that live if not for anything but the promise of more deer in the area. But that’s the decision every hunter is faced with at one point or another. A 115 pound doe or button buck is a real trophy for some bowhunters, while others won’t even consider anything smaller than an eight point. I fall somewhere in between. The kill has to feel right for an arrow to leave my bow. I made this pact early on and I’m sticking to it; even if I need reminding from time to time.

I am confident Juniper Junction will produce for us before the season is through. I would like to see my father experience his first traditional kill there. I know it would mean a lot to him. And even if he doesn’t, he’ll enjoy a season’s worth of memories trying. Few could ask for better.

 

 

 

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Painting a Memory

Posted on September 28, 2011 by Nick

Sometimes a picture really is worth 1,000 words; or one really good memory.

I’ve always wanted to own a painting. We had two growing up; the quintessential portrait of Jesus, and a beautiful painting of a harbor at sunset. These paintings are included in some of my earliest memories and made an impact on me as a child. I remember being scared of the Jesus portrait at first. He always seemed to be looking at me regardless of my orientation within the room. I learned to love those eyes as I learned to love Jesus and they brought me great comfort throughout my adolescence.

The sunset harbor painting meant something else entirely. I had a pretty wild imagination and it was often the catalyst for my daydreaming. I remember standing on the cushions of the family couch at four or five and staring at it often. It’s blend of yellows, browns, oranges, and golds captivated me but I don’t recall ever asking my parents about it or where it came from. I think it was the mystery I enjoyed the most. Unfortunately, life moved on and logic began to hinder my imagination. As I approached my teens, my youthful fabrications became overshadowed by absolution. I still hadn’t asked but managed to fabricate the painting’s origin instead. I decided it was a local artist’s rendition of Duncan Bay; a place on Lake Huron my parents brought us to swim as children. It still meant a lot to me but in a nostalgic way. It was now an artifact of my youth.

College instilled the need for answers and truth and brought with it a whole new meaning for the painting. I began to ask questions. Why did my parents choose this painting? Where did they get it? Who was the artist? Was it indeed Duncan Bay? My parents were more than happy to oblige with what they could remember but the finally knowing had an adverse effect on me. The luster I’d spent years coating it with suddenly began to dull before my eyes. I instantly regretted my decision. Sure, finding out how my parents acquired the painting was cool but it was the fabrications of my youth that truly mattered.

Such is the pain of growing up.

I’ll always remember the mystery painting on the wall and recently acquired one of my own! While many of my wife’s paintings adorn our walls, this one is mine...in more ways than one. It’s my portrait and it captures one of the most self-defining moments of my life: the killing of my first deer with a longbow.

I envisioned this painting since the day a friend snapped the photo. My wife and I were renting at the time and I vowed (at that very moment) I would have a home of my own with a painting of this memory on the wall for my own children to see. That was a shade over two years ago and I’ve got a home of my own now, a daughter, and the painting.

Fate delivered it to me via Twitter in the form of Tommy Ellis (aka @ghost1066). Tommy and I met shortly before I launched longbowblogger.com and we immediately hit it off. In fact, his blog Following Ghost served as a benchmark of sorts when concepting mine. Tommy is a very talented writer, hunter, fisherman, woodworker, and landscape/wildlife artist who shares his work on Twitter often. After seeing a few of his paintings, I knew he was the guy to paint my portrait.

Simultaneously, he was interested in owning a longbow and I happened to have one available: a beautiful 55# Bama Hunter with bocote riser and maple cores. I had another in the works so I offered it and some of my homemade arrows in trade for the painting and some of his homemade turkey calls (these are awesome as well). We exchanged information and the deal was done. I think we’re both the richer for it. He’s having a lot of fun with his longbow and I’ve got a piece of my history preserved on canvas.

I’ve since wondered how my daughter will react to it. Will she stare at it like I did? Will it invoke the occasional daydream? Will she expound on my accomplishment to her friends and tell them her Daddy is a famous hunter?

Will she even care?

I hope she does, because I plan on willing it to her someday.

If you are interested in purchasing Tommy’s work or simply enjoy hunting and fishing, visit his website Following Ghost or follow him on Twitter @ghost1066. You’ll be happy you did.

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The Perfect Glove?

Posted on September 23, 2011 by Nick

My Dad (Steve Viau) with his Big-Shot glove from American Leathers.

If there is one thing my ol’ man appreciates, it’s a quality American made product. After 30+ years of tailoring and retail he knows quality when he sees it and can spot the flaws in anything that doesn’t measure up – especially when it comes to fabrics and stitching. He uses every bit of this expertise when choosing his gear and immediately gravitated to the Big-Shot glove by American Leathers as a result.

Dad was shooting a lot at the time. Well, Dad shoots a lot PERIOD but at the time he was laid off. With us kids out of the house and my Mom working long hours, he immersed himself into his shooting. I don’t think he missed two consecutive days of shooting or hunting the entire year. I would have heard about it via cranky, early morning phone call otherwise. He experimented a lot. Wore out several of the cheaper gloves and stalls and decided he’d had enough and should invest in something he truly wanted.

I’ll admit I was floored when he told me he ordered one at $59.95 plus shipping. I’d never spent more than $14 on a glove and there are a variety available at that price. He tried to make me a believer several times;

Other than your bow and arrows, what piece of gear do you use the most when you shoot? Your GLOVE!

But I wasn’t drinking the Koolaid.

Dad fell in love with his Big Shot as soon as it arrived. He’s been a walking testimonial every since. In fact, I had to PRY him away from the American Leathers both at the Kalamazoo Expo this year. Had John Turner invited him to stay the weekend he probably would have sold every glove he had for the price of a backup. And the thing is…Dad could do it. With the exception of my younger brothers, people listen to him. But don’t take it from me…I’ll let Dad tell you in his own words:

One piece of gear that is very important when getting into Traditional Archery is the type of  glove to use when shooting a bow. This was a trial and error dilemma I suffered when getting into this marvelous sport. It seemed like it would be a very simple decision; just buy any type of leather shooting glove, how different could they be? Boy was I wrong! There are a multitude of differant brands and styles out there but it all boils down to how padded the finger tips are.

The thinner the glove, the more you feel the string. Some archers really love how the string feels when it leaves their fingers. I started out this way but quickly found that my fingers grew sore with heavy shooting. I could hardly feel them the next day, which is unacceptable for a guy that likes to shoot as much as I do. While it would make a good hunting glove, I wanted one glove I could shoot comfortably in all situations: range to woods.

I had a brief fling with a tab but discovered how impractical it was in the woods for an avid hunter. I didn’t like knowing I could drop it easily or chance fumbling with my string when confronted with game.

I tried a doe skin stall-style glove with leather finger overlays next. It stopped the finger soreness but I couldn’t get it to fit right. The stalls would become cockeyed far to easily.

I was starting to believe I’d never find a glove style that really fit me and my shooting style. And then I stumbled upon the  American Leathers ”Big-Shot” glove online. I had seen fellow archers rave about it on several of the traditional bowhunting forums and decided to check it out.

The Bigshot is available in two differant leathers, Elk ($43.50) and Buffalo ($59.95), plus two different color combinations: light tan and a darker brown. I decided on the Elk in dark brown. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what size to get. Having large hands but eeking a snug fit, I went with the Large. I received my new glove two days later, and was immediately impressed.

First thing I noticed was the way the glove was designed, the leather is super soft with neoprene knuckles to give it a nice stretch and fit. The finger stalls are leather with nylon overlays that have small holes in the tips for ventilation (a feature I’m quite fond of in the summer). I immediately put the glove to the test and was speechless. The nylon overlays provided a super smooth release and absolutely no finger pain. I couldn’t quit shooting it. It was THAT comfortable. I had finally found my match!

American Leathers is a great American company providing a wonderful product to the traditional community. The Bigshot is the only glove this archer will ever use!

Dad’s glove is still going strong after almost two years of hardly ever leaving his hand. Just last week he purchased a Wet-Shot model strictly for hunting and stump shooting because he couldn’t bare the thought of losing his original Big-Shot. While I’ve yet take the plunge, I’ll admit that these things are the epitome of tough and age extremely well. My Dad’s has become beautifully broke-in – like an old baseball mitt. In fact, age seems to correlate with pride when it comes to an American Leathers product. While at the Expo in January, a gentleman approached John’s both to buy his second glove and was more than happy to produce his first when asked if he still had it. ”Sure do,” he grinned. “Hasn’t left my side in five years! Shoots even better than the day I bought it!”

Nuff said.

If you are interested in ordering a Big-Shot, check out www.americanleathers.com. John is a great guy and will be happy to answer any questions or address any concerns.

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