traditional bowhunter 2015-06-07

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The Evolutionof the

Zwickey Judo

Getting in Shape for Backcountry Bowhunting

Vol. 26, No. 3 Jun/Jul 2015

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On The Cover Still-life of a selfbow,arrows, and caribou antler.

Photo by Jerry Gowins Jr.

Page 25FeaturesFeatures

13 No Traditional Guilt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Mike Mitten19 The Twenty-Year Wait . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Jim Eeckhout25 Twisted Sheds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Connie Renfro30 The Greatest Stump-Shooting Arrowhead Ever Invented . . . .Don Kauss35 Choices and Challenges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .G. Fred Asbell44 Homestead Whitetails . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Mike Davenport48 If It Isnt Broke, Dont Fix It . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Monty Browning52 One Hundred Days . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .E. Donnall Thomas Jr.59 The Resurrection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Tom Vanasche

Personality ProfilePersonality Profile

39 A Bow with a Past

Champion Archer Russ Hoogerhyde . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Wayne van Zwoll

Regular DepartmentsRegular Departments

6 Co-Editors Note . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .E. Donnall Thomas Jr.9 Letters57 Traditional Archives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Duncan Pledger62 Backcountry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Clay Hayes64 Primitive Bowhunter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Krista Holbrook67 Traditional Wisdom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Chris Ragan70 On The Market73 The Trailhead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Jack Connelly76 Traditional Harvests78 Book Reviews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .David Tetzlaff80 Tips From the Old Timer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Dennis Kamstra81 Classifieds82 Campfire Philosopher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Jason R. Wesbrock

A Look Inside

4

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JJ.2015_JJ.2015 4/6/15 7:19 AM Page 4

Editor/Publisher/FounderT.J. Conrads [email protected]

Advertisement ManagerKerri Doyle [email protected]

Co-EditorE. Donnall Thomas, Jr. [email protected]

Shooting EditorG. Fred Asbell

Campfire PhilosophersJason R. Wesbrock, Krista & Sterling Holbrook

ContributorsNathan L. Andersohn Darryl QuidortDuncan Pledger Fred Eichler David TetzlaffJerry Gowins, Jr. Denny Sturgis, Jr.Jason Wesbrock Connie RenfroKirby Kohler Brian Sorrells Dennis Kamstra

Editorial InformationP.O. Box 519, Eagle, Idaho 83616 208-383-0982

Advertising and Classified InformationKerri Doyle [email protected]. Box 519, Eagle, ID 83616Phone: 208-853-0555 Fax: 208-383-9010

Advertising Sales RepresentativesMark Viehweg [email protected]: 847-828-4413David Balowski [email protected]

Subscription Information Amanda [email protected]. Box 519, Eagle, ID 83616Toll Free: 888-828-4882 Phone: 208-383-9019Fax: 208-383-9010

Webmaster/Online AdvertisingRobin Conrads [email protected]

TRADITIONAL BOWHUNTER (ISSN # 1076-6537) is published bimonthly by TBM, INC., P.O.Box 519, Eagle, ID 83616. Bulk Rate U.S. postagepaid at Boise, Idaho. SUBSCRIPTIONS: $25.00 ayear in the U.S.; $35.00 in Canada. $45.00Foreign. Please allow 6 to 8 weeks.All material sent in for publication will not bereturned unless accompanied with a stamped, self-addressed return envelope, and the Publisherassumes no responsibility for unsolicited material.The views expressed within this publication arethose of the authors and do not necessarily representthe opinion of TBM, Inc. or its employees.Publication is not an endorsement of content, andTBM, Inc. assumes no responsibility for editorialcontent. Some images may have been computerenhanced for quality reasons.

Copyright 2015 by TBM, Inc.All rights reserved.Printed in the U.S.A.

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Co-Editors Note

This Land is Your Land

TThe idea has been around for a while now, dating back to the Nevada-basedSage Brush Rebellion of the 1980s. Like a lot of bad ideas, it can be dressedup to look good at first glance: Get those vast, mismanaged tracts of west-ern public land out of the hands of the distant, incompetent federal governmentand into the hands of people who know how to use it right. However, in its currentiteration the push to disburse these federal lands represents a greater threat to thefuture of American hunting than anything the anti-hunters could have come upwith in their wildest dreams.

This potential disaster resurfaced as a sleepera little-noticed plank in the2012 Republican Party national platform that openly called for the sale of theselands to the highest private bidders. When I called this to readers attention at thetime, a lot of you didnt believe meuntil I showed it to you in black and white.(Feel free to look it up again on the Internet.) The idea didnt fly in that formitwas a bit too obviously selfish. Now the wealthy interests behind it in the firstplace have re-packaged it in what appears to be a more palatable form: bills in sev-eral western state legislatures calling for transfer of these lands to state control.In an age rife with anti-Washington sentiment that sounds appealing, until youtake a closer look.

States like Montanathe one I know best, because I live hereare rich inland, resources, and wildlife, but poor in cash. Western states simply dont have thefinances to manage these additional millions of acres. The cost of one bad fire sea-son would wipe out the coffers, at which point these recently acquired lands wouldwind up on the auction block, which is exactly what the movements backers hadin mind in the first place. Those buyers wont be people like you and me, and itwouldnt take them long to start locking gates, building high fences, and privatiz-ing the game that lives inside them.

Consider whats at stake. Right now, American hunters of ordinary meansenjoy vast opportunities to hunt elk, antelope, deer, and other game species on pub-lic land in the West, opportunities of the kind only the fabulously wealthy can enjoyin other countries. That could all disappear with a stroke of the pen, and right nowa lot of powerful interest groups are preparing those documents for signature.

Lets be clear. This is not a matter of Republican or Democrat, liberal or con-servative. These lands are not currently owned by the government. The landown-ers are the tax-paying citizens of the United Statesall fifty of those states. AsWoody Guthrie once reminded us, This land belongs to you and me.

If some powerful interests get their way, that wont be true for long. Here inMontana, weve already had a taste of what happens when wealthy outside inter-ests purchase old family ranches and lock the gates behind them. Now, we can stillfall back on the great hunting available on BLM and Forest Service land. Are wegoing to stand by and let those opportunities vanish? If you have ever dreamedabout hunting western elk, antelope, or mule deer without coughing up half yourhard-earned paycheck to rent a key to a gate, you had better join the millions ofAmerican outdoors men and women who have already seen through the smoke-screen and said, Hell, no!

Don ThomasCo-Editor

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9Traditional Bowhunter Jun/Jul 2015

Letters to the EditorDear TBM,

The two articles by Dennis Kamstra and JasonWesbrock in the Feb/Mar 2015 issue were extremely welldone and, taken in combination, they are a great reminderto keep traditional shooting at what it should be. Whoeverwrote the statement, If were not careful, were going toreinvent the compound bow all over again, with regards tothe trends in technical aspects of shooting and equipment,was spot on. Ive always enjoyed Dennis and Jasons workand these are some of their best pieces in my opinion.

Raymond LyonVia the Internet

Dear T.J.,My condolences for the loss of Larry Fischer. I know he

was instrumental in helping you build such a fine publica-tion, and was a close friend of yours.

I would like to sing my praise for your book, TheTraditional Bowhunters Handbook. What I didnt know is inthere, and done so thoroughly. Ive had the book for quite awhile and I feel you deserve recognition for such a wonder-ful handbook. It must have taken a tremendous amount ofbackground work and research, not to mention time, to pulloff such a work.

Ive subscribed to TBM since 2004 and have absorbed allI can from it. Im 51-years old and have shot bows my entirelife. Only after my stint in the Army did I go back to the

recurve bow. Ive been making my own hickory arrows fromlumber that I hand pick where I work. Next year, I will startmaking my own Flemish bowstrings.

Keep up the excellent work for all of us traditionalists,and never let your dream die.

Stan HopfenspergerGlidden, WI

PS: Is there going to be a Volume II?

StanThanks for the kind words. Indeed, Larry was adear friend and colleague. He will be missed by all of us.

I have been working on an updated version of TBH, butwith all the other distractions the last few years it has beenput on hold. Rest assured, though, an updated version is inthe works.T.J.

Dear TBM,Hats off to Sterling Holbrooks Campfire Philosopher

column in the Dec/Jan 2015 issue! He stated the exact con-cerns I attempted to express in my letter in the Feb/Mar2008 issue. Now Im seeing more bows with carbon limbs,and metal risers with cut-outs, etc., but as I stated in 2008,the sight pins, plunger button, and elevated rest concern memore.

Being were talking about compounds, I have many goodfriends who use them, but we dont target shoot or hunttogether. Right or wrong, we just have different views and

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values concerning archery.I wonder if Sterling will get negative responses, as hap-

pened to meand from our own ranks. We need to under-stand that just because one shoots a traditional bow does notnecessarily make one a true traditional archer.

I just finished a dozen cedar arrows for my 15-year-oldgrandson, who by the way took his first deer with a bow onmy land with one of my recurves this season.

Thanks again, Sterling, for having the courage to speakup and I always enjoy reading about yours

Jerry Collins Metter, GA

Dear TBM,I recently had the opportunity to begin practicing with

a Bear Grizzly recurve bow my father gave me over 40 yearsago. I have not had the opportunity to use the bow until now,and I am working on accuracy and callusesgetting both.

I also just discovered your magazine, TraditionalBowhunter, and have bought and really enjoyed the twomost recent issues. Im learning a lot from the technical andhow-to articles Big Small Game, Tally-Ho! and the interviewwith Grizzly Broadheads in the Dec/Jan 2015 issue. I alsoenjoyed the short articles Killing Time and White Gold inthe same issue.

Enclosed please find a check for a subscription toTraditional Bowhunter, as well as both of T.J. Conradsbooks The Traditional Bowhunters Handbook and CampfireReflections.

Dick FancherPensacola, FL

Dear TBM,I get a ton of email to sign up for stuff, which means

permission for a million emails. TBM, however, has a tra-ditional sense.

Your weekly emails are not about selling me the latest,this or that; its about what will help me. I look forward to iteach week. I have saved years of them. You break the moldof the email onslaught, and I find it refreshing and encour-aging. Its a highlight in our weeks, and it helps us keep thespirit and action of archery relevant, and helps enable ourmotivation to create content that we use in our youtharchery programs; teaching the sport, and ultimately, thetraditional sense.

I look for the advertisers links on your email. I buy theirstuff personally, and for my programs, which is not much,but people do listen to what I say and use to make their ownopinions. I encourage that they find what works for them.

Im sure you have many life-long subscribers, of which Iam just one. Please, keep it coming.

Jeff BaranVia the Internet

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Traditional Bowhunter Jun/Jul 2015 13

IIn 2011, I was lucky enough to arrow two mature white-tail bucks during a 16-hour period. I know I am fortu-nate to have had two close encounters that turned out sowell in just two days. I cant tell you how many years Ivegone without taking any bucks. And sure, its easier to passup younger bucks when you have already taken some niceones before. I realize hunting mature bucks is not for every-one, but it does add another layer to the self-imposed chal-lenges we know as bowhunting. When I get a chance to takeone of these great animals, I cherish every moment.However, there are some people in our ranks who tried todiminish my pride with guilt.

It seems to them that hunters using traditional equip-ment should just be happy to take the first deer or smallgame animal that ventures past or lets its guard down. Afterall, many hours of passion have gone into making self-bows,knapping stone heads, fashioning arrows from reeds, andfletching native turkey feathers to shafts using sinew. Likemost of these folks, I too have experienced and felt theromance of all these processes. However, I also choose to beselective in my quest, which greatly increases my time afieldduring the hunting season. I just dont buy the philosophythat the old-time gear we elect to hunt with is so ineffective

and self-limiting, and taking any animal is such a rarity, thatour goals should not be as lofty as our modern counterparts.

I have always believed that man is a participant innature, and that man and nature are one. Its in this veinthat humans have freedom of choice; we can choose to takea buck or let him pass to get older. In Illinois we have a lotof agriculture, which supplies a tremendous amount of foodand nutrition for wild deer. The winters are relatively mildand less stressful compared to states like Minnesota andWisconsin. Genetics are very hard to influence in wild popu-lations. So this leaves us with the most easily managedoption to sustain older bucks in the herdsimply allowthem to live long enough to reach maturity.

I have heard from hunters who believe that letting abuck that is making a potentially lethal mistake pass will insome way weaken the gene pool, as if passing up a buck goesagainst long-standing theories of survival of the fittest. Theysuggest that allowing a dumb buck to live, just because of itspotential for larger antlers, will affect the health of thefuture deer herd. I understand where they are coming from,

No Traditional GuiltBy Mike Mitten

A fresh scrape adds fuel to the fire within, and givesnew hope for late winter hunts.

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but I feel that my decision to allow younger deer to have achance of reaching maturity will help balance the overallage structure of the herd, to the benefit of the deer.

If I shot every young, inexperienced buck that Iencounter, two things would happen. First, the buck-to-doeratio could get out of balance, and second, my hunting sea-son would be over quickly. Im sure that both of these ideascould be viewed as selfish. There are just too many variablesthat come into play while hunting. I have passed up hun-dreds of 2 - or 3 - year-old bucks in my lifetime. Only avery small percentage of them have I ever had a chance tokill later. The encounters I experience with mature buckswithin my effective range of 25 yards usually number fewerthan four all season, and of those, only one or two present mewith a potential for a shot. And this is coming from a dedi-cated hunter who may spend more than 40 days in thewoods every season.

I guess Im not smart enough to predict the outcome ofmy every action. I just view myself as a selective hunter andknow that if I want to take an old buck, I cant shoot a youngone. If I want the herd bull elk, I cant tag out on a satellitebull. I wont live the experience of matching wits with theoldest doe in the herd if I shoot the first young one that pres-ents an opportunity. I once passed up 17 bull moose during

A tree with deep parallel grooves that matched that ofTree Shakers short brow tine and a sticker point thatgrew adjacent to it. The Osage balls should be taken

note of during late season, as deer feed on them after the deep freeze sets in.


a two-week hunt, only to go home empty-handed. But fortu-nately for me, the following season I took a great mature bullwith wide reaching antlers. I have always emphasized thequality of the hunt. The majority of the time I go homeempty-handed, but redefining my definition of failureensures me 100% success.

The first buck I took in 2011, nicknamed Tree Shaker,was 6 years old, with thick antlers, an 8-point typicalframe and two short sticker tines. I had passed him up inprevious years while waiting for him to mature, but as a 5-year-old in 2010, he proved too smart for me. However, Idid find his sheds, adding them to the collection of three setsof his dropped antlers. He was a homebody buck that wasnever seen outside of his small core area.

The terrain I hunt is ungraded strip mine terrain withwave-like spoil banks covering most of the property. Amongthe thick undergrowth of autumn olive and honeysucklebushes, there is an occasional volunteer apple tree. InAugust the apples usually start to drop and offer a goodchange of food source for the deer, which have typically beenconcentrating on soybeans or alfalfa fields. These are notfood plots, just normal agricultural fields in Illinois.

On opening morning just after daybreak, I got a chanceto see the old Tree Shaker buck working an over-hanginglimb above a perimeter scrape. It is not unusual for bucks tostart scraping and spreading their scent from pre-orbitalglands long before the true rut. He hooked the limbs of theOsage tree with his antlers and gave them a twist before hemoved on out of range. Flanking him were four does and

their fawns, which momentarily pinned me down and pre-vented me from trying to call to the buck. Before he blendedinto the underbrush, he gave me a last good look at hisheavy, dark brown, antlers, and his neck just starting to fillout. Antler growth draws a lot of nutrients out of a buck, sothey really only put on and replace lost body mass duringthe weeks in September and October prior to the rut.

Fast-forward through an uneventful October toNovember 4th at 4:00 p.m. With an east-southeast wind, Iknew I would be able to sit a stand in a small cedar tree onthe edge of the transition area between open grassy spoilbanks and smaller ones choked with honeysuckle andautumn olive bushes. I was very excited about my firstopportunity to sit this undisturbed site. The trunk was onlythree inches in diameter at ten feet high, and the stand wasstrapped in to rest on the cedar boughs. It did sway in thewind a little, but the blue-green needles provided great back-ground cover.

After sitting there for 20 minutes, I heard some sticksbreaking behind me. I gave out a faint grunt, but got noresponse. It could have been a doe. Five minutes later Iheard sticks breaking about 80 yards out in front of me, so Iwheezed three times. I still heard branches breaking anddecided that the sound was not from a walking deer, butfrom a buck thrashing limbs. I blew on a grunt tube a coupleof times and then heard the buck coming closer, thrashingbushes and breaking limbs to let me (a wheezing, gruntingbuck) know he was coming. He had taken the bait.

Finally, I saw tree limbs bounce and knew where he was.

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Instantly, I recognized Tree Shakers form as he popped upover a spoil bank as if coming right out of the ground. Thisbuck, which I watched grow up on the property over theyears, looked huge! His neck was enormous, and I knew fromthe 4-inch sticker on his right antler that he was responsiblefor all of the deep parallel grooves cut into many of thethigh-sized rubs in the area.

I let out one softer wheeze that caused him to abandonhis eastward route and come directly toward me. He droppeddown into the bottom of two merging spoils and climbed upright at me. I had the bow up and the lower limb tip restingin the pocket I sewed on the inseam of my left pant leg, help-ing me steady the bow as I hid behind the wide limbs of therecurve. He kept coming. I hoped he would turn and give mea broadside shot while allowing me some breathing room asfar as my scent trail in the wind, but he did not. He heard abuck dare to wheeze at him, so he was coming to square thedeal.

He ended up looking directly at me several times as heapproached. The wide lower branches below my standhelped frame his vision and keep me a part of the tree in hismind. He did not turn, and ended up closing to four yards. Idrew and held for five seconds as he moved beneath me.Then I found a large opening through the cedar boughs andreleased the arrow, and Tree Shaker dropped in his tracks. Asecond arrow dispatched him, and the little cedar tree beganto shake from my nerves. Tree Shaker was still working hismagic on me.

The story of the second buck starts in 2009, when mybrother David filmed a tall buck with long Y-forked brow

Right side view of 6 1/2-year-old Tree Shaker. Hisaggression cost him his life when he came into my

wheeze call.


tines on each side. The brow tines also had a twist to them,so we started calling him Twister. On opening day I quiet-ly sat through a pouring rain during the afternoon, but assoon as it stopped I started to see deer move, includingTwister. He was walking broadside at 28 yards on his wayout toward a soybean field. It happened so fast that I did nothave time to field judge or age him, I only knew he looked bigin the velvet footage my brother showed me, and that he wasa buck I was hoping to get a crack at. But after looking atfilm footage of him after the hunt, I decided this buck wasprobably only three years old and I would let him grow up alittle. The next afternoon I had another close encounter andwatched Twister walk past at 15 yards on his way to thesame field of beans.

I saw Twister several more times in 2009. In 2010 headded more sticker tines but did not grow the double Y-forks.However, he did maintain his characteristic long, twistedbrows. I had him at ten yards during 2010, but again elect-ed to pass him up in hopes that he would add more antlergrowth. In the summer of 2011, I saw him under the sameold scrub apple tree that Tree Shaker visited. He again hadgiven up the Y-forked brows, but had added five additionalnon-typical points to his basic 9-point frame.

After taking Tree Shaker on Friday afternoon, Ireturned to the woods on Saturday, November 5th with mysecond tag. Some people may think this a hawgish actionafter taking such a magnificent buck the day before, but tome its all about the hunt, and with the rut in high gear, Ijust had to be out there. There was a light frost and a slighteasterly wind that slowly built intensity during the morn-

ing. I was sitting in a favorite walnut tree in medium coverbetween two large, dense thickets. I saw two different doesgetting chased by several different bucks. Using wheezecalls with my mouth and a grunt call, I called in a couple ofadditional bucks as well. I filmed some of the two- or three-year-olds when I could, but always kept my bow at the readyin my other hand in case a mature buck presented. At 9:50 Isaw the 12th buck of the morning pop up over a spoil bank70 yards away. It was Twister!

Nocking an arrow, I let out two soft grunts. I wasnt sureif he heard them or just followed a natural crossing patternover the spoil banks as I have seen many other bucks do inthe past, but he was coming my way. I remember he had aslight limp as he climbed up the final spoil. He stood therefor a bit, then made a 90-degree turn and headed east on thespoil ridge top, crossing about 16 yards from my tree. I triedto hold for a five-count, but the arrow was gone at aboutthree (which was long for me). I got a pass-through doublelung hit, which made tracking him up and down spoil banksthrough some very thick underbrush a little easier. I foundthe 5 -year-old, 14-point Twister buck lying in a tangle ofautumn olive brush. What a great feeling, again!

During the years I hunted those bucks, I also took sev-eral does. I did not shoot them out of guilt, but allowed thetiming of my hunts to dictate the outcome. I derive greatpride and satisfaction in making a clean kill on any animal,so those does provided a wealth of nutrition and numinousvalue to me.

Individual whitetail bucks have more identifiableuniqueness than most other big game animals. Nicknamingbucks is not a sign of domestication, but validates a connec-tion between a hunter and an individual prey. It does notguarantee taking the buck, or even seeing it again. The takingof the two great bucks, Twister and Tree Shaker, was not theresult of a 24-hour hunt, but rather the accumulation of over35 years of studying whitetails, commitment to a philosophy,sustained passion, and just being too luckybut no guilt.

Mike Mitten is a cancer researcher, author of One withthe Wilderness, and a co-producer of the films PrimalDreams and Essential Encounters.

Equipment Notes

Mike used a 2219 aluminum arrow tipped with a 250 gr.Woodsman Elite broadhead shot from a 67# Tall Tinesrecurve to take these two magnificent bucks.

Twister was found at the bottom of a spoil bank. Hewas the 12th buck I saw the morning after taking

Tree Shaker.

OOpening morning of the 2012Utah mountain goat huntfound me sitting in the darknext to a dead bristlecone pine waitingfor the first rays of sun to light up themountainside. I needed to make myfinal stalk over to a rock outcroppingabout 500 yards away near the peak ofthe mountain. I had watched a niceband of mountain goats feed past thisspot the previous two mornings. Thisgroup contained three nice billies andseveral nannies with kids. I am not atrophy hunter, but one of the billiesappeared larger in both body size andhorn length than the other two, and Ihoped he would show up again thismorning.As the eastern sky began to lighten,

I started to make my way toward theoutcropping. If I could make it there

undetected, I would be above the goatsand partially hidden from view bystunted pines. Halfway there, a nannyand two kids fed into view. Suddenlythe nanny picked up her head andstared intently down the mountain.Following her stare with my binoculars,I could see the object of her concern: ahiker walking the trail several hundredyards below us. I used this distractionto close the final 200 yards. Fifty yardsfrom where I wanted to be, I camearound the edge of a giant rock only tobe met face to face by a nannyI froze in my tracks and tried not to

look her in the eye. After a long wait,she began to slowly walk past me onlyto stop and stare down the mountainten yards from me. After a few minutesshe continued past me, still watchingthe hiker. Again I used this distraction

to my advantage and made my way tothe outcropping, where I removed mypack and began to glass for goats.Then a rifle shot rang out nearby. I

knew there would be rifle hunters inthe area, as this was an any-weaponunit. I was concerned that they mayhave ruined my morning hunt when Inoticed several goats coming over therise to the south, slowly feeding my way.A quick look through the binocularsconfirmed that this was the group I hadseen the previous two mornings, but thebig guy was missing. Could that rifleshot have been for him? Over the nextseveral minutes the goats, includingtwo nice billies, slowly fed around mewithin bow range, but still no sign ofthe big guy. Then the goats started tostare down the mountain, and I couldsee the hiker going back the other way,


The Twenty-Year WaitBy Jim Eeckhout

appearing lost.As I looked back at the goats, I saw a

nice billy broadside at 18 yards. Was thebig goat I had seen the previous twodays now dead from a rifle shot? With amature goat in bow range, I told myselfnot to be picky. Thats when I heardsomething running through the rocksbehind me and turned in time to see thebig guy coming over the peak ten yardsaway. He ran to my left and came to astop at 15 yards facing away from me.Then one of the other billies ran up andstarted a shoving match with the bigguy. They never offered me a clear shot,although at times they were as close asten yards. Finally the bigger billy start-ed to run the smaller one off. I realizedthat I needed to stop him somehow, so Iyelled a quick Hey! That stopped himperfectly broadside at 30 yards, facingto my right and slightly downhill. It wastime to see if my practice would pay off.It was hard for me to believe that I

was finally getting a chance to huntthese great mountain dwellers. I hadbeen waiting 20 years for this day. Notthat I had been waiting that long todraw this coveted tag, which I drew onmy third try. But Id had an Alaska goathunt cancelled when Alaska enactedthe guide requirement for all non-resi-dent goat hunters. My budget did notallow hiring a guide, and Im a DIY guyanyway. Thus began the wait as I tried

to draw a goat tag in various otherstates; a wait that ended in 2012.Where to start? I had never been to

Utah. A friend suggested inquiring onan Internet bowhunting site. I eventu-ally made contact with a bowhunterwho not only lived near the unit Iddrawn, but had hunted goats there. Healso knew a traditional bowhunter whohad been successful there. After severalphone calls to both of them, I orderedtopo maps and spent the summer get-ting in shape and practicing daily withmy Predator recurve from variousranges and angles out to 35 yards. Ireally had my heart set on taking thatbow on the hunt. It was my dads, andhe had given it to me a few years beforeafter a bout with cancer left him unableto shoot its higher poundage. I had beenable to take several whitetails and ablack bear with it, and wanted to tryand surprise him by taking a mountaingoat too.At the end of the long drive from my

Michigan home, I arrived at the spot Ihad chosen to set up my base camp andmet a fellow hunter who had also drawna goat tag there. He too would be hunt-ing with a bow. He introduced himselfas Carl and said there was plenty ofroom for me to set up my camp next tohis. This meeting proved fortunate,since Carl lived in the area and hadhelped other hunters take goats there.Carl very graciously gave me severalpointers on what areas to scout wherehe had been seeing goats all summer. Ithanked him for the info, grabbed mydaypack and video camera, and headedout on a scouting trip.Thats when I first found the group of

goats described at the beginning of thisstory. I watched the goats for theremainder of the day and the followingmorning, making mental notes of theirroutine. On both days they crossed inalmost exactly the same place bothmorning and afternoon, within feet ofthe outcropping. Now all they had to dowas follow that routine opening morn-ing, and I would be in luck.That afternoon I was making my

way off the mountain toward my basecamp when I ran into another tag hold-er. He asked what I had been doing upthere, and I told him that I also held atag and would be hunting that area in

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the morning with my bow. He informedme that I was wasting my time huntingup in that basin as it only held nannies,kids, and a couple of immature billies,and that I should look for a differentarea, leave the bow at camp, and take arifle to get the job done. I thanked himfor his advice, wished him luck, andmade my way back to camp with justenough time to shoot a few practicearrows before dark.Early the next morning, I was out of

my tent and ready to head up the moun-tain. While I was picking my way alongin the dark, I inadvertently knocked mybow quiver against a boulder, breakingit loose from my bow. Now I had toimprovise by attaching my quiver toone of the straps on my pack beforemoving on. After the quick fix, I contin-ued through the dark to the ancientpine described at the beginning of thisstory. After reaching the tree, I removedmy pack, took a seat against its weath-ered trunk, and waited for light, whichbrings us to the beginning of this story.With the billy standing broadside at

30 yards, I knew it was now or never.This was a shot I had practiced all sum-mer. I slowly came to full draw, picked aspot, and let the string slip from my fin-gers. I can still see the flight of myarrow as it buried to the fletching in thegoats side. As he turned to run back to

my left, I could tell that the arrow hadexited the base of the neck on the oppo-site side, cutting a major artery in theprocess. The billy only went 60 yardsbefore going down next to a large drop-off. As he went to his knees, I caughtmovement to my right and watched asthe billy he had been sparring with ranup and rammed my goat from behind,causing him to spin, loose his footing,and slip over the edge. I could notbelieve what had just happened! Nowmy goat was gone over the edge.As soon as I gathered my wits, I

shouldered my pack, grabbed my bow,and made my way to where the goathad disappeared. Peering over the edgeI noticed blood on the boulders, but mygoat was nowhere to be seen. I hadslowly started to pick my way downthrough the boulders when I cameacross the fletching end of my arrow. AsI was examining it, I heard someoneyell, Its down here! Wondering whocould be yelling this far back in themountains, I looked downhill and sawmy lost hiker several hundred yardsbelow me waving his arms. At thatpoint my heart sank; I knew there wasno way my goat could have made itthrough a fall like that and still beintact. I had read too many storiesabout other hunters whose mountaingoats being destroyed in falls.


The author with his Utah mountain goat.

The going was treacherous as I slow-ly made my way down to where thehiker was standing. Even when I waswithin 20 yards of him, I still could notsee my goat because of a small drop off.When I asked if there was anything leftof the goat, the hiker shrugged and saidit was a mess, but the horns lookedintact. I could not believe the sight as Ifinally laid eyes on the animal. He wasdirty and dusty from the fall, but thehorns had indeed survived.As I was admiring my goat, the hiker

informed me that I had scared the youknow what out of him. When I askedhim why, he told me he had heard some-thing falling through the rocks andlooked up to see the goat tumblingdown the mountain. He couldnt figureout why, as he had not heard a gunshot.We both had a good laugh, and then heasked me who I was hunting with.When I told him I was alone, he actedsurprised and asked if I need any help.I told him I was fine, but asked if hecould take a few pictures after I filledout my tag. He told me he would andthen asked where I was from. When Itold him I was from Michigan, he said,

So you are the out of state tag holder,at which point he introduced himself.My lost hiker was the Fish and Gameofficer for the area and was glad to seeI was doing everything by the book. Hekept telling me that this was a giantmountain goat and asking if I had anyidea what I had just killed. I told him Ijust knew that it was a mature animal,and that I was very happy.Then he told me that he had to go

meet his partner farther back in themountains, and that when they madetheir way out later that afternoon theywould help with any meat that I hadnot yet packed back to my camp. Talkabout a great guy. I told him where Iwas camped and showed him where Iwould cache the meat if I had notpacked it out. I thanked him as he leftand started skinning and quartering.When I was just about finished, thehunter I had run into the night beforethe one who said there were no maturegoats in that basinhappened downthe trail. He took one look at the goatand my recurve lying near my packframe and just shook his head. He saidhe could not believe I had killed that

goat with that bow, offered some quickcongratulations, and walked awaymumbling. I then packed the hide,horns, and tenderloins back to mycamp, ate a quick lunch, and headedback for the rest of the meat. As I wassecuring a hind and two front quartersto my pack frame, the two fish andgame officers showed up, took the lasthindquarter, and told me they wouldmeet me at my camp later.That evening, after I made it back to

camp, I was stretching out my goat hideto dry when Carl showed up and offeredhis congratulations. While he was look-ing over my goat, the officers showed upwith the last of my meat. They all thentook another look at my goat and keptgoing on and on about how big it was. Itold them I was just happy to get a nicemountain goat with my recurve. Ithanked them as they left and made ahard earned dinner. That night as I layin my tent, I could not stop smilingwhile thinking about the events thathad taken place that day. It had been alifelong dream to take a mountain goatwith my bow, and I had done it withinthe first hour and a half of my hunt.What a dream come true.The next morning I rose early,

packed up camp, and loaded my coolersfor the long journey home, knowing Iwould miss these mountains and itsinhabitants. While making the drive outof the mountains I ran across anotherbowhunter, who stopped and asked if Ihad seen any elk. When I told him thatI hadnt and that I had been huntingmountain goats, he asked if I had heardabout the guy who killed a big one withhis recurve. I told him I had, wishedhim luck, and drove off smiling as helooked at the Traditional Bowhuntersticker on the back window of my truck.

First time contributor Jim Eeckhoutlives in the thumb area of Michiganwith his wife and daughter, in a loghome he built himself.

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Equipment Notes

On this hunt, the author carried a56# Predator recurve andGrizzkystik shafts tipped with vin-tage Bear Razorheads.

TThe end of each high country sea-son brings an inevitable melan-choly. The autumn blaze of colorlies discarded on the forest floor. Thewind picks at every tiny gap in my out-erwear and gives a decidedly bitter nipto remind me winter is right around thecorner. The highs and lows of archeryseason replay in my mind. My legs aretired, but my heart and soul feel grate-ful that Im able to get out and hunt! Idoubt Im any different from other ded-icated traditional archersI get a tinybit depressed at the end of season. Themonths until the next archery seasonseem too many to ponder.After my first archery season closed

many years ago, I came to the conclu-sion that I needed an off-season hobby

to keep me entertained and in shapeuntil I could hunt again. I started hik-ing around our home in Colorado withmy dogat that time a big, beautiful,strong (and hyperactive) German short-hair pointer named Saddle. Saddle andI had plenty of time to wander thewoods, usually in a rather aimless man-ner, just enjoying the scenery. These fre-quent jaunts usually turned up alltypes of treasures which I would carryhome in my pack.For those who dont know me, I am

prone to carrying home items that I findirresistiblerocks, feathers, strange treeburls, and my favorite pick upantlers!My husband, Gary, is always questioningwhy I drag home the leaverights (as inleave er right there). I am a bit of a col-lector shall we say, with several tablesfull of fossils, flint, and antlers. I havebrought items home from just aboutevery hunt Ive ever been on, sometimesbeing accused of looking down at the

ground more than looking for the animalIm hunting. Even though Gary chidesme about my pickups, he is guilty of car-rying home rocks, old discarded miningitems, and coffee and tobacco tins. Weboth enjoy the random bits of historyand nature that you come across in long-forgotten places.As the years have sped by with many

archery seasons come and gone, I havecontinued my wandering in the woodsand have accumulated a large and var-ied collection of shed antlers. Each timeI find an antler, I try to imagine the ani-mal as it stood up from a rest, shook thedust from its coat, and shed an antler ortwo in the process. I can probably fillthe back of several pickups with thesheds I have collected over the years,but I still cant resist the temptation ofscooping up new finds with a smile andpacking them home to share the storywith Gary.It has taken a long time for me to

realize the full benefits of all my hoursin the woods. Not only have I retainedsome semblance of fitness throughoutthe off-seasons but also, without con-sciously recognizing it, I have beenlearning to be a better woodsman. I payattention to tracks and scat, gametrails, and areas favored by deer and elkwhen the snows lie heavy on theground. I watch to see where the firstshoots of green make their appearancein the spring, knowing the deer and elkwill soon make their way to the area. Imay not hunt the areas I hike, but itstill teaches me the habits of my quar-ry, where they are, and what they aredoing winter, spring and summer.Now, you may be wondering, what is

the twist to this tale? Yes, manybowhunters are out looking for sheds in


Twisted ShedsBy Connie Renfro

The authors found sheep skull,which was artistically adorned byher friend, Morgan Montgomery.

the in-between times. I have become acollector not only of naturally shedantlers, but also those sets that are stillattached to the original owner. Thesehorns and antlers are the result of acreature meeting its predestined end as

a prey species, becoming sustenance forour mountain lion population.Call it lucky or not depending on

your mindset, but I am happy to live inan area with a solid population of lions.They provide a source of entertainment

and much hard work, tracking them inthe winter months for fun, trying to filla tag, or observing the remnants oftheir activities year-round. Since mostof my hiking is solo except for mycanine companion, now a Braque duBourbonnais named Sage, trackinglions can sometimes give me a queasystomach and prickly hair on the back ofmy neck. I will never forget the morningI found a freshly killed ewe bighorn. AsI walked up to the carcass to check itout and touched the exposed entrailswith my boot, I was startled to see themwobble like jelly. This kill was fresh,and I was pretty certain there was a bigcat quite close watching me mess withhis dinner. I had an uneasy feeling thatI was no longer the top predator in theneighborhood! I always joke that with-out our brains we would not be the toppredator, but it is truer than you mightwant to admit.The winter months when the snow is

deep and the wind is bitter is myfavorite time to look for my twistedsheds, tracking lions and exploringareas where I have found kills in thepast. I have long ago lost count of car-

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Connie with a matched set of elk antlers she found.

casses, but in this area I primarily findmule deer and bighorn sheep. Gary andI were hunting far from home years agoand came across a bull elk killed by abear, which is not something you see toooften. We were fairly certain a cat didntkill it since it wasnt covered with sur-rounding debris, which is typical of lionkills. Another time, while tracking alion with friends, we came across a greyfox that the lion had crossed paths with.It had two puncture wounds, on eachside of its head. The lion bit it at thebase of the skull and dropped it in itstracks before continuing on its way. Imnot sure whymaybe he considered itcompetition for food, or maybe its just alions nature. Obviously they dont coverthings up that they dont plan onreturning to eat.Gary was out with some friends who

were hunting lions when he cameacross an amazing story written by thetracks on the fresh snow. A few muledeer were bedded on the side of a hillwhen the lion came down the hill inthree giant leaps, killing a very nice 4x4right in his bed. It appeared there wereseveral does bedded near the buck, butthey escaped to live another day. Lionsare opportunistic killers, not necessari-ly taking the weak and sick as is oftentouted, but, rather, whatever or whoev-er is in the best position to be killed. Inthe end the cat was treed. It was a 110-

pound female. The buck would haveoutweighed her by 2:1 yet he neverstood a chance. Mountain lions areincredibly powerful predators.My ultimate find after 25 years and

countless miles of shed hunting was abeautiful bighorn ram. On that cold,dry, winter day I was clamberingaround in some steep gullies at around9000 feet in elevation when I spottedsomething above me. I had been goingstraight up one gully to its origin, cross-


Gary checking out sheep kill while shed hunting.

ing the curve of the mountain to thenext gully, and then following it down.This odd hiking pattern is usefulbecause of a lions tendency to drag akill down into a gully or some thickbrush to attempt to conceal it fromother predators and birds. I was wear-ing out and ready to climb back up themountain and hike the several milesback to my car when I spotted thedusky brown lump and quickly realizedwhat was lying in the gully above me. Icould see the curve of the horn, andfrom the size of it I knew this was a fan-tastic find! I was so ridiculously excitedthat I couldnt bear to walk straight toit, and I circled around the big ram sev-eral times, talking to myself and grin-ning from ear to ear.

Finally approaching the fallen ram, Icouldnt believe my good fortune. Thehead was still virtually intact, bothhorns still in place on their cores. Therams head was twisted at a very unnat-ural angle, telling the tale of his demise.The entrails and meat had long sincebeen devoured, leaving the sunken hidedecaying into the ground. I spent a bitof time looking around the area, consid-ering the scene as it might have beenwith the hungry tom on the hunt andthe beautiful ram in the wrong place atthe wrong time.I always pack a knife and small saw

in case I do get lucky in my search fortwisted sheds. It was a half hourwrestling match, but with my handysaw I freed the head from the spine andsoon discovered that these big hornswere quite difficult to transport. I hadonly a small daypack and no rope to tiethe rams head onto the pack, so Ihugged his head to my chest and start-ed to climb up to the ridgeline. It didnttake long to wish for a better packthisthing was heavy, unwieldy to carry byhand, and quite smelly. About a quartermile into my journey, the horns startedslipping off of the cores. Now the smellwas growing powerful, and the jugglingof head and horns was becoming

painful. I trudged on though, grinninglike an idiot. No matter the difficultiesinvolved in getting him home, I had aprize to beat all prizes!I waited impatiently for Gary to

come home from work, my twisted shedlying next to the front porch. As soon ashe pulled in I ran to his truckhe knewsomething was up. I said, Guess what Ifound? He took one look at my face andsaid, You found a ram! I relayed theevents of the day and showed him mytreasure. It was a great ram in the 165range, broomed off with a wide curl. Foronce Gary was as thrilled with my pickup as I was, and he made plans to boiland clean up the skull and cement thehorns back onto the inner cores. If youdont take care of the horns, they willshrink up and you cant slip them backdown to the base of the cores.Once the rams skull was cleaned,

boiled, and bleached, and the hornscemented in place, I contacted a friendof ours, Morgan Montgomery, to enlisthis artistic talents. Morgan is an amaz-ing artist who has done many ink draw-ings on skulls for other bowhuntingfriends. I told Morgan the story of myfind, and we settled on a design for theram head. After an impatient wait,Morgan delivered an extraordinary

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Authors Note

It is important to emphasize that every state has its own set of rules and reg-ulations regarding shed hunting and picking up lion kills. While it is legal inColorado to pick up lion kills (mule deer/sheep, etc.), in other states, such asMontana, it is against the law to pick up lion kills. Colorado Parks and Wildlifebiologists encourage people to have pick-ups documented. For a variety of reasons(too complex to cover thoroughly in this context), it is against the law in Coloradoto pick up any road-killed animal, although there are times when salvage permitswill be issued to utilize the meat from deer or elk hit on the roadways.Sadly, just like any popular activity these days, shed hunting is in the process

of being regulated in Colorado (and is already regulated in many other states).Too many people looking for sheds in certain areas are having an adverse effecton many species, not just the antlered animals. Elk and deer are impacted whenshed hunters congregate in their late winter habitat, stressing and pushing theanimals when they have little reserve left for the balance of winter. Species thatare sensitive to human encroachment, such as the sage grouse, are a particularconcern for biologists in Colorado. Certain areas that are known to hold trophy-class animals (hence, trophy-class sheds) become what I would deem combatshed hunting zones that I strictly avoid.As in any outdoor activity, common sense, ethics, and integrity should be

applied when you are shed hunting. When in doubt, check the regulations foryour state and contact your local wildlife officer to ensure that you are followingthe letter of the law.

Connie and Sage with a shed elkantler deposited in a tree.

piece of art back to me. The ink drawingis of a big tom chasing the ram down asteep hillside, and it is one of the finesttreasures I have ever owned. Garythinks its a bit of irony that the ramsfinal moments are forever etched on hisskull.Years have come and gone, and I con-

tinue my twisted shed hunts as often as

possible. My collection now includesskulls from two bighorn rams and sev-eral ewes. We have passed on the hornmaterial from the ewes to friends forknife handles and bow tips. Gary alsofound a very nice ram, ironically fiveyears later and only a few hundredyards from my first find.Sage and I continue to wander the

mountains at least a couple of days aweek, always on the lookout for a newtreasure to add to our collection. Eachtime, we set out with the anticipation ofchildren on Christmas day, taking inthe sights and sounds of the mountains.If were lucky, there may be a beautifultwisted shed or some other unique findjust waiting in that next gully.

Longtime contributor Connie Renfrois settled in as an MRI technologist inDenver after a major career change in2005. A fifth generation native ofColorado, she enjoys her time afieldwith her husband Gary and her 2-year-old canine hiking companion, Sage.


Connie with her ultimate find.

IIt would be the first time young CliffZwickey had ever shot an arrow.The year was 1916, and his BoyScout troop was camping out on theRufenacht farm, near St. Paul,Minnesota. Cliff s troop Leader, OseaPhillips, had just finished going overthe rules of safety on the archery rangewhen he handed the 14-year-old BoyScout his bow. Mr. Phillips couldnt have

known that he was about to incite a life-time of fascination that would alter thecourse of the youngsters life. With theawkwardness that accompanies anyfirst try, Cliff drew back the lemonwoodbow, held for a moment, and released.The arrow zipped over the shelf andpast the riser, wobbled into stability,then struck the tightly woven prairiegrass mat with an emphatic thud. He

found the flight of that feathered shaftabsolutely astounding, and so began alifelong obsession.The Zwickey family operated a shoe

repair shop in North St. Paul, whereCliff cut his teeth observing the dailygoings-on of small business. He marriedin 1922, and worked as a brake repair-man in the railway yards. Then came ajob at the Dobbins Sprayer manufactur-ing plant, where he became skilled as atool and die maker. Periodically, Cliff sboss would bring him the competitorsnew sprayers when their latest designsdebuted and ask him to come up with abetter, more practical design. Moreoften than not, he did just that. Still,archery was what was on Cliff s mind.In 1938, he moved his wife and their

infant son into a home built in 1878,which he bought for $1,100. He thenpurchased his first machine tool, a drillpress, and placed it in one of the tworooms in the house reserved for mon-keying with archery. It was in thoserooms that Zwickey Archery took itsfirst steps, even before it was sonamedfirst steps taken just a coupleof years after John Jack Zwickey tookhis.In 1939, the National Target Archery

tournament was held in St. Paul. Thismarked a major turning point for Cliff,for he met people like Fred Bear, Russ

Hoogerhyde, Ben Pearson, Harry Johns,Fred Eicholtz, and Doug Easton, whomade a big impression by sharing sto-ries of his experiments with aluminumarrow shafts. Later that autumn, Clifftraveled to northern Minnesota on his

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The Greatest Stump-ShootingArrowhead Ever InventedBy Don Kauss (with Jack Zwickey)

Cliff, left, and Jack Zwickey with a10-point buck Jack shot in 1955 at

Camp Riley, Minnesota.


Judo Prototype-1. The earliest pro-totypes included rubber and vinylin order to achieve the flexibilitythe design required. These materi-als proved inadequate over the

long term.

Judo Prototype-2 with a rubberwasher as an option.

Judo Prototype-3 consisted of a single, bent wire through

the ferrule.

Judo Prototype-4 used a punch-press type ferrule, which wouldhave made production much

easier; however, it did not stand up to Cliff s standards.

Judo Prototype-7 had four hookedprongs mounted on an axle that

went through the ferrule.

Judo Prototype-8 was a 2-prongedattempt, with the spring through

the ferrule.

Judo Prototype-9 was this odd,extended ferrule design.

Judo Prototype-6 experimentedwith a U-joint type of ferrule. Thehope that it might help flip the

arrow proved futile.

Judo Prototype-5. The progressionto the Judo of today is evident.

first hunting trip and experienced hisfirst encounter with a deer at closerange. He did not get a shot, but fromthat point on, he was hooked. Suddenly,bowhunting was the exciting new gamein archery.With only a few broadheads commer-

cially available at that time, Cliff real-ized there was room for improvement.He began designing and manufacturingthe prototypes of what would laterbecome the original Zwickey BlackDiamond broadhead. In 1945, Cliff quithis job at Dobbins, on the day WorldWar II officially ended, and went into

the full time production of arrowheads.As far as Cliff was concerned, archerywas now the prelude to hunting, andshooting at fixed targets on groomedterrain seemed illogical. Cliff taughtJack that the best hunting practicecame from roving, and they spentSunday afternoons walking the fieldsand forest in Joy County Park, thump-ing stumps and exploding milkweedpods. Each would take a few shots, andthey would spend much of the afternoonsearching for the arrows lost beyondtheir targets.One day, while looking for lost

arrows, Cliff told Jack, We cant keepthis up. Weve got to invent an un-loseable arrowhead. The following day,the two commenced experimenting witharrowhead designs aimed at hinderingthe arrows tendency to burrow orglance upward upon impact. Those firstdesigns included various arrangementsof wires protruding in different waysfrom heads made of metal, rubber, andeven vinyl. The problem was that theprotrusions almost always got twistedup or lost after the first shot. The para-dox was that the ideal design requiredthe flexibility to latch onto turf andgrass while remaining securelyattached to the head and withstandingthe impact of contact with stumps androcks. This was a tall order, and thedilemma proved daunting.The next decade included countless

trials of handmade prototypes inter-spersed with dry periods during which

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Cliff Zwickey at work designing the artwork that still adorns thepackaging at Zwickey Archery.

Judo Prototype-10. Here thesprings have their own separate

grooves.

Judo Prototype-11. The springsnow move toward an annulargroove, where they are in todays

final version.

Judo Prototype-12. As the designgets refined, a narrow ferrule

version was tried.

Judo Prototype-13. The design isalmost there. This is one of the last versions before the design

was finally patented.

the task appeared hopeless and theyspent their time on other projects thatseemed more practical. But Cliff wouldnot give up.Tenacity had always been one of his

strengths. Back in the early 1930s, hehad driven to his Aunt Emilys farm inIowa to harvest some Osage for bowbuilding. He spent two weeks fashion-ing a bow with some of the woodhourupon hour of designing, carving, sand-ing, bending, and clamping the limbsinto a beautiful recurve. Finally, thebow was ready. Trembling with excite-ment, Cliff could barely finish twistingup the string. He took it out into thefront yard and looked across the roadinto the park on the other side, wherehe spotted a softball-sized clump ofgrass standing out among the leaves.He nocked an arrow, drew back, and lethis forefinger settle into the corner ofhis smile. The moment he reached hisanchor point a furious bang erupted,scattering splinters of Osage in everydirection. The only recognizable part ofthe bow remaining was the handle, stillclutched in Cliff s hand. He collectedeach piece and carried them to the

trash can on his way back inside. Thenhe immediately began making his nextbow.At one point in the early 1950s, their

hopes were pinned on an un-loseablearrowhead design that incorporated

three torsion springs mounted intrepanning holes in a field point. Itworked perfectly and endured for years.The Zwickeys even got a patent on it,but in the end only two-dozen of themwere ever made. It was just too difficult


Cliff at his workbench.

to produce in large quantities. So Cliffand Jack continued to rove without los-ing their arrows, but it would be sever-al more years until they could offer thesame privilege to the general public.Until 1957, Fred Bear was Zwickey

Archerys best customer, using theirEskimo 4-blade broadhead exclusivelyfor his hunting. So it came as a bit of ashock to Cliff when he heard that Bearwas unveiling a new broadhead line forsale. He knew the namethe BearRazorheadbut had yet to see one. Itwasnt long before someone brought oneinto the shop for Cliff to eyeball. Uponlooking over the Bear Razorhead for thefirst time, Cliff immediately dismissedit as any threat to the continued sale ofZwickey broadheads. No one will buythis thing, Cliff said. You have to slitthrough the end of the arrow shaft toput a flimsy bleeder in it. The ferruleisnt a true 5-degree taper, and the tipisnt strong enough to stand up to heavybone.This criticism was due mostly to the

Razorheads visible lack of strength incomparison to the laminated steel inthe tip of the Zwickey Black Diamond.The fact of the matter, however, wasthat almost no one didnt buy BearRazorheads. Zwickey had over 80,000broadheads stashed all over the houseand shop, but almost overnight FredBears marketing prowess knocked

them right out of business. Sales plum-meted to almost zero. Completelystunned and down to just one employee(Vernon Miller), the question was: whatto do now?After some deliberation, the answer

became obvious. Until this point, therehad been precious little time for theirun-loseable arrowhead project. Now itbecame their main focus. Late oneafternoon in 1957, Cliff Zwickey had anepiphany. He went into the shop,chucked a 3/8 rod of steel in the lathe,and machined a field point with areduced diameter hub and annulargrooves. Together, he, Jack, and Vernonfabricated a jig that would coil up small,hook-armed torsion springs of .035spring wire. The torsion springs had tobe small, and have a minimum of fivecoils each so that the hooked armswould be able to flex 180 degrees with-out taking a set. Later, a couple of posi-tioning jigs were made to hold the tor-sion springs in the annular groove.Once the springs were in place andinterconnected, a specially designedtool was used to bend the ends of thesprings over, locking the entire 4-springassembly together inside the annulargroove and around the ferrule of thehead.This was an interlocking assembly

like no other spring unit ever made.After more than a decade of trial and

error, they had finally created a meansto mass-produce an un-loseablearrowhead. They knew it was perfecteven before Jack glued it onto that firstarrow. They fired up the truck andheaded out to Silver Lake Park, theZwickey testing ground. There theyfound an old, half-rotten tree stump,which they shot so many times thatonly shreds of it remained when theyfinished. This thing is perfect, Cliffexclaimed.Impressed by the somersaulting

antics the arrows displayed after thehead grabbed grass and turf, as well asthe knockout blows it delivered to smallgame, they decided to name the headJudo.After developing this special head, it

took two years for Zwickey broadheadsales to climb back to normal. And ittook several more years, as well asthousands of dollars worth of advertis-ing and promotion, before the Judopoints began to sell in volume. For acouple of years, they even included onefor free with each dozen broadheadsordered by dealers, as a means of get-ting them circulated. Jack Zwickeybelieves that back then, bowhunterswere just plain skeptical about thespring arms ability to endure hardimpact. In fact, the Judo is so strongthat unless it is misplaced, you mayonly need to buy oneever. At least twomen (one in Nebraska and one inMichigan), claim to have shot the sameJudo on the same arrow for over 20years. Today, you can watch videos onthe Zwickey Archery websitewww.zwickeyarcheryinc.com illustrat-ing, among other things, just how welltheir spring arms endure impact withtrees. (Jack literally chops an 8 diame-ter jack pine tree down with threearrows, 120 shots each).

Don Kauss resides in Wisconsin. Hehas been a packer and guide for moose,Dall sheep, and bears in Alaska, andhas bowhunted all over the UnitedStates. He is an artist, as well as adirector for both the WisconsinTraditional Archers and the WisconsinBowhunting Heritage Museum. Theauthor wishes to thank Jack Zwickeyfor his assistance with this article.

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IIve never considered myself anaccomplished whitetail bowhunter.Ive hunted them a lot, and fromtime to time Ive done okay, but consid-ering how long Ive been doing it, andthe amount of time Ive spent in thewoods, my collection of big deer is notvery impressive. Ive read more bookson whitetails than most people, and Irub shoulders regularly with guys oth-ers consider serious, big time whitetailbowhunters. So, if for no other reasons,I should be better just based on timeand association.

My problem is that I think toomuch. Dont take that as meaning thatIm assuming any kind of intellect onmy part, because thats not the kind ofthinking I mean. Bowhunting is verymuch a mental thing for me. Its a feel-ing, and Ive been in love with that feel-ing since the beginning. And I have todo things in a certain way for it to beright for me.

I dont want anything to change,and therein lies much of my problem. Iwant to do things the way I used to dothem. I want to feel the same exhilara-tion Ive always felt when I go into thewoods after whitetails with a bow in myhand, and I dont want to change that.But there are many times more white-tailed deer than ever before, and thathas had a huge impact on hunting them.

I love whitetail bowhunting, but itcant be like it was in the early 1960sunless I change some things. I keepdoing things that arent the thing todoor maybe not doing things I shouldbe doing. Im a very poor example of theevolution of the whitetail bowhunter.Besides there being so many more deer,theres also so much more informationavailable on whitetails and huntingthem than there was 10 or 15 years ago,and Im using hardly a smidgen of it.Im still thinking that stealth and scentshould be our major concerns, but whenI look around I realize Ive not been pay-ing attention.

Hunters probably know 75% moreabout how to go about putting deer onthe ground today than they did 15 yearsago: estrous cycles, rut phases, every-thing about scrapes (territorial, pri-mary, secondary), rub lines, moon phas-es, and more data about daily behaviorthan is available about human babies.


Choices andChallenges

By G. Fred Asbell

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It seems that practically everyonewears rubber boots, rubber gloves, andscent-proof suits. And theres the onethat still amazes me: treestands 20, 30,and 40 feet in the air. Jeez!

I know a hunter who continuallyfills his mouth with chlorophyll breathspray so the deer wont smell hisbreath, and another guy who dumpsboxes of baking soda all over himselfwhen he gets in a stand and then fillshis hat with another box before he putsit on his head. That doesnt have a lot ofappeal to me.

Another hunter will turn aroundand go back home if he begins to sweatbefore he gets to his treestand. I try tobe careful about scent, but I sweat soeasily Id never get to hunt if I did that.The list of techniques you can use isendless: rattling, calling, decoys, never-fail scents and lures, scent lines, scentdrags, clothing decontaminators. I lovedthe treestand buddy (a life-sized man-nequin to make the deer think you arein another tree.) I see pictures ofhunters carrying a bow, a full-sizeddecoy, rattling antlers, a huge pack fullof stuff, including that garage door

opener look-alike unit for scent control.And the scent-proof clothing manufac-turers tell me I must saturate every-thing with scent eliminator spraybefore I get to my stand to scent-proof itall? It seems to me that weve way over-done it.

But its the improved equipmentavailable to the bowhunter thats reallychanged the game. The compound bowand its plethora of black ops accou-trements have changed everything, ofcourse. But the traditional side has itsimprovements, too. There are trail cam-eras, ATVs, bionic ears, and machinesthat eliminate scent, as well as the con-tagious and continuing desire toimprove and make easier every facet ofbowhunting. The good side of thatand there is oneis that you and I getto decide about what we grab onto andwhat we ignore.

Trail cameras, probably more thanany other item, have changed thingsdramatically. I always had great admi-ration for bowhunters who scoutedthroughout the year and kept logs onthe various animals comings andgoings. It seems like just about every-one today has a trail camera or two.One acquaintance has between 16 and20 and has given the individual ani-mals names reflective of their qualityand Compton score. It just doesnt seemquite the same as when he glassedthem all summer, fighting the mosqui-toes and the fading light. With the trailcameras he might get a dozen photos ofdecent animals on a given evening, withexact times.

You can make the argument, andmany do, that theres nothing wrongwith watching these animals anytimenight or day. I certainly like learningabout them. But do you think wevemaybe taken this camera thing too far?Im not being critical or saying its bad.It seems to me that nothing gives you agreater sense of appreciation for an ani-mal than knowing all you can abouthim. Certainly no animal has fooledmore people than the whitetail deer,and none has been hunted harder. Iunderstand that theres a tendency tokeep reaching for something else thatwill simplify hunting and move us a lit-tle closer to being more successful.

The development of whitetail hunt-

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ing technique and equipment is contin-uing. It seems that we will keep investi-gating and understanding more andmore about the whitetail deer and itsmystique, and we will one day enjoy ascomplete an understanding as is possi-ble with any wild animal. Undoubtedlywe will continue to develop ways, tech-niques, and (probably) apparatus thatwill further overcome this guys abilityto elude us.

Is that bad? Since the first day Iwalked into the woods with a bow, Ivebeen trying to figure that out. Its beena challenge. Ive lain awake a thousandnights thinking about how to out-fox adeer that was out-foxing me. Its a puz-zle thats been a joy to work on. What awonderful game!

So whats my point? Justthisnow that all the pieces are begin-ning to fall into place, and now that weunderstand so much about them andhave so much more help being success-ful, some of the wonderfulness of thatgame is changing for me.

Im not saying were being unfair,or that its gotten too easy. Certainly itseasier, but its not quite that either. Itsthat the degree of challenge is beingreduced by what I now know, the num-ber of deer, and adding all the new tech-niques that are available to me. It isntthe same.

Maybe hunting is getting too

detailed for me. It seemed so much sim-pler before. Now its beginning to feellike work, like an actual job, and I dontthink its supposed to be that way.Someone said that it was beginning tofeel as if they were going to war, whatwith all the details to be attended to,with a kill or be killed mentality pre-vailing. I always wanted to know theanswer to a hundred and one differentquestions, but I didnt want to changehow bowhunting felt to me.

They say there are four stages inbowhunting in which individualbowhunters could be categorized. Theresthe beginner stage, of course. Eventhough todays modern equipment hasmade the beginning stage considerablyshorter and less complicated, the begin-ner stage still exists. Typically, the begin-ner just wants to kill something. Usuallyhe wants the newest and best equipmentand is open to just about anything thatwill help him be successful.

The second stage bowhunter hasprobably had some success and beginsputting some sort of limitations on hishunting. He may have been in the firststage for some time, or he may move outof it after a single kill. He may now onlywant to shoot a buck. He begins to bemore selective.

The third stage bowhunter typical-ly has some time under his belt and isthe guy who begins telling you how you

should do it. Sometimes this guy hasbeen successful and sometimes not.

The fourth stage bowhunter isabout what I call campfires and goodfriends. He has probably enjoyed somesuccess, and may well be older. Hewants to hunt with his friends and mayenjoy the camp life as much as thehunting. It isnt always important forthis hunter to be successful.

Keep in mind that these stages arenot automatic, and bowhunters may ormay not progress through them all.Some bowhunters go through eachstage. Some start in Stage 1 and staythere. One bowhunter I know, who hasbeen bowhunting as long as I have, hasnever left Stage 1. He is only interestedin killing something, and if it doesntinvolve that, dont call him. Some jumpfrom Stage 1 to Stage 4, and some mayeven begin there. Some start in Stage 2(kill something big) and stay there. Lotsof bowhunters progress through all fourstages. You probably know people in allstages, some for different reasons oftheir own.

Many of us have moved from Stage1 to Stage 2. Many of us graduate fromneeding to kill something to somegreater challenge without consciouslythinking about it. If a thing becomessimpler we often slide into doing it in amore difficult manner, particularly ifbowhunting is more than a casual


endeavor. Once a thing becomes easy,we look for bigger challenges. Weexpand. We arise. As we become moresuccessful, be it through technology ortechnique improvement, we subcon-sciously find ourselves putting morechallenge into it by altering our huntingmethods, our goals, or our equipment.Thats the way many of us ended upshooting traditional equipment.

Continuous challenge is one ofbowhuntings greatest qualities, alongwith our personal ability to control it.You can continue to add challenges allof your bowhunting life. You can beginas a high-tech guy and end up as a guywith a backquiver, a selfbow and a plaid

shirt. The point I want to make is thatas our knowledge, abilities, and successimprove, we canand probablyshouldmodify our equipment andmethods to maintain the utmost chal-lenge in bowhunting.

There are lots of ways to put morechallenge into bowhunting, startingwith equipment. Recurves, longbows,self-bowseach with a half-dozen lev-els of difficultywere the first chal-lenge many of us gravitated toward.Some stopped there, some continued on.Wood arrows upped the challenge a bitand some choose them, although othersmove on to dowelling shafts by hand,with self-nocks, knapped heads, and soon. Several bowhunters I know havestopped using camouflage, maybe justto make bowhunting more personal,maybe to make it more in keeping withbygone era bowhunting.

Some have stopped using tree-stands as an added challenge. Onehunter I know will only get in a treewhen he can stand on a limb. He feelsthat treestands make every tree a pos-sible ambush spot, and he likes addingthat challenge to his bowhunting. Trystill hunting exclusively, and you wontneed to add another challenge for a longtime. Im seeing that natural groundblinds are awfully good, and maybe,once you get the knack of it, they are aseffective as being in a tree.

Challenges and choicesthere are alot of ways to do it. For example, I per-sonally dont want to use a guide formule deer or elk. Having someone tell

me to sit right herehell come rightthere, takes away a choice I want tomake for myself. Thats a personal thingfor me. Ive hunted mulies and elk quitea lot, and I consider being on my feet inthat country the epitome of bowhunting.Its the way I want to do it. I findabsolutely nothing wrong with using aguide for either species, and I certainlydo that on other hunts. Its my choice.

Certainly stalking, still-hunting,and using traditional equipment is put-ting an extra challenge into huntingand will take some time to learn. But,goals must be attainable, meaning youneed to be able to make them work. Thesame can be said of all challenges. Theyarent challenges if they dont make theactivity more difficult, but making itimpossible is not an alternative. Theyarent challenges if they arent more dif-ficult, but in the end the purpose is tochallenge yourself and make the huntmore enjoyable, more exhilarating.

And so it is with challenges andchoices. If you rise to them, learn fromthem, and become a better, more com-plete bowhunter for it, youve grown clos-er to it. And what is it? Its that thingthat turns our crank when werebowhunting, that thing that gives us themaximum elevation, the thing that exhil-arates and calms us simultaneously.

G Fred Asbell is the magazineslongstanding Shooting Editor. He livesin Michigan with his wife, Teresa.

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EEarl Wickman had been anarcher for nearly a decade in1949, half as long as Fred Bear.Even in central Michigan, bowhuntingstill seemed an odd way to bag deer.Enthusiasts who labored over archerytackle in basement shops were inter-viewed when local papers ran shy ofbarn fires, inebriated juveniles, andblack bear sightings at lake cabins. TheAlma weekly found one story in the big,raw-boned frame of Earl Wickman, whoran a plumbing business but also foundtime to introduce waifs like me to shoot-ing sports. Lead dust joined gun smokeand stagnant clouds from Earls mas-sive cigars to turn his basement rangeblue, as this red-haired giant preppedme for rifle competition. But he wasalso a skilled bowhunter.Bows cost from four to 75 dollars,

wrote the reporter who spoke withWickman, while arrows range from sixto 10 dollars per dozen. Earl makes hisown for about 16 cents each.Those, as they say, were the days.Earl, now 92, still admires longbows

and recurves. Hes owned quite a few,including early Bear bows. Earl metFred Bear in Detroit soon after I gotout of the Army in 46. That was a yearbefore Fred took his business north, toGrayling. About that time, Wickmanbought an undeveloped tract of forestnear Alpena. Deer hunters traveled up-state to hunt. Caravans on the firearmsopener were legendary. Bumper tobumper at the Mackinac Bridge.That span between Lake Michigan

and Lake Huron throttled the I-27 traf-fic bound for the wilds of the UpperPeninsula. The dark woods of the fabledU.P. and its cedar swamps harboredhuge deer that lost none of their weightor antler width over campfires. Buthunting was good in the poplarsbetween Grayling and the tip ofMichigans mitten too. I built a cabinon my property. Hunted there fordecades, said Earl. One day, I got aphone call from Fred Bear. He had aguest coming to hunt and asked if theycould use the cabin. When I said Sure!but refused payment, he offered to giveme a bow. Why Fred, I told him, I justbought another of your bows!Something must have come up, becauseI dont recall Fred hunting there.

Earls youth post-dated Art Youngsvisit to Detroit, where the AdamsTheater showed one of his huntingfilmsan event that reportedlyinspired Fred Bear to take up archery.Young later met Fred and shot withhim, then left to settle in Illinois. Hedied there following an operation foracute appendicitis in 1934. A decadelater, Fred had arrowed his first biggame on film. In the fall of 42 sports-writer Jack Van Coevering of theDetroit Free Press joined Fred to film aMichigan bowhunt for deer. It was achallenge. Cameras were cumbersomethen, and Fred Bear still-hunted,sneaking through the woods. The firstday he fumbled an arrow to muff theonly shot of a long, cold day. Exhausted,hands numb, I could hardly get myboots and wet socks off. But later in theweek their luck turned. A buckappeared suddenly, angling towardthem at 30 yards. In a split second he

saw me, wrote Bear. I was not at fulldraw, but I had to shoot . The arrowdrilled the bucks chest. Van Coeveringscamera captured it all, to anchor thefirst of 25 Fred Bear films that wouldappear over the next 40 years.Meantime, Earl joined the armed

forces. Posted in New Guinea in 1944 asthe Allies prepared for D-Day, Wickmanused his off-time to whittle arrows frompacking crates. Those boards werestraight-grained Doug-fir. Ideal shaftmaterial. He shaved a bow from asapling and hunted in the jungle forwild pigs. Didnt kill any, but it wasgreat fun! (Returning at age 80, thistime with a Bear takedown, Earl wouldre-trace his platoons path and find thecamp overgrown. Alone, he hiked into


A Bow With A PastCrude, cracked and backed with mystery material,

it once helped a champ trounce his rivals.

By Wayne van Zwoll

Beginning in 1929, Hoogerhydeworked in the archery industry.His first national championshipcame a year later. By 1940, hed

won seven!

the hills, recalling old times. The pigswon that round too.)Earl knew many of Michigans star

bowmen of the 50s and 60s. FloydEccleston founded and ran ChippewaArchery in Mount Pleasant, betweenAlma and Grayling. I remember theshop, and Floyd. He was a keenbowhunter, Earl recalled. And a fineshot. Before 1950 hed laid out a 56-tar-get field course. Floyd had the bestbroadhead collection in the country.Hes in the Archery Hall of Fame. Alas,

Chippewa Archery is no more.Another of Earls acquaintances

hailed from Coldwater, Michigan.Russell Hoogerhyde, a rangy blond ladwith Nordic good looks, grew up in theshadow of the Great War. By age 23, hewas hanging around a Grand Rapidsarchery range. The stock market lost itslegs that year, but Hoogerhyde weath-ered the hard times by hitching hisfuture to the bow. Soon this young manwas managing 13 indoor ranges.Russell won the U.S. National Target

Championship in 1930, Earl told me.He topped the scoreboards again thenext year, and the next. He was beatenby just six points in 1933 but came backto capture the title in 34, repeating in36 and 37. As Hitler blitzed London in1940, Russ Hoogerhyde shot his way toyet another championship!In those days, archery drew specta-

tors. One newspaper account conveyedthe suspense: Russell Hoogerhyde, ofColdwater, Michigan, tightened hisgrasp on the 1931 title by shooting aworlds record round of 698 on 90 hits[to break] his own record of 673.Hoogerhyde needed 610 points in thesecond round to set a new worldsrecord for the double American round.A large gallery applauded the cham-

pions superb marksmanship, thereport continued. In the course of thefirst round Hoogerhyde sent 15 consec-utive arrows to the gold. He shot twoperfect ends of six arrows each, followedby three in the gold and three outsidethe bulls eye, and then another perfectend. During one of his best perform-ances, Russell beat the runner-up by

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Leather-wrapped and beautifully laced with a spacer in front (the bowsback), the grip is comfortable in big hands.

The Hoogerhyde bow from 1930 has laminated limbs, the stripsstacked so all run belly to backnot, as on modern bows, flat withthe back. This bow has a set from

age and use.

167 points with a wooden longbow andwooden shafts!By all accounts, Hoogerhyde was as

disciplined as he was talented, loosingthousands of arrows in daily practice toperfect the form that netted him themost impressive string of champi-onships of any archer in modern times,according to The American Archer. His

work for Wolverine Archery Tackle indesigning and testing bows gave himaccess to excellent equipment. But heused stock Wolverine bows and self andnot footed arrows entirely. A 1930 scoresheet showed Hoogerhyde soundlythrashing 68 fellow bowmen with a dou-ble American and York round tally of421-2517, at ranges to 100 yards. Russhas won every tournament he has everentered, noted a review, [hes] amighty fine archer capable of sustain-

ing the highest ideals of archery.The sports poster boy appeared in

Time magazine, August 2, 1937:Favorite for the title was a onetimeMichigan lifeguard, RussellHoogerhyde, 31, who, after winning[multiple titles], retired to build up aprofitable Chicago business in whattrue toxophilites call their tackle.Hoogerhydes proficiency with a bow &arrow really started in 1929 when hedecided his form was bad. He shot 1,000


A small piece of cork on the back above the grip has pin holes by all evi-dence a rudimentary sight. Note the groove worn by arrow passage, and

the bows only crack.The Hoogerhyde bow, reportedly oflancewood, is 69 inches long. Itweighs exactly one pound. RussellHoogerhyde used self and not

footed arrows entirely.

arrows a day for six months while slow-ly changing his arrow anchor grip fromjust behind his ear to under his jaw.Last week Hoogerhydes rivals on thefiring line were archers like Dr. RobertB. Elmer who won the national titleeight times [and] wrote the

Encyclopaedia (sic) Britannicas articleon archery; Captain CassiusHayward Styles who, after being shotdown four times in the World War andordered to live in the mountains toregain his health, took to bow & arrowhunting and Ed Miller, husky Buffalo,N.Y. Customs Officer, whose quiver wasmade from a mooses foot. [However],when each of the 106 ablest bowmen inthe U.S. had shot his 468 arrows, RussHoogerhyde was champion again, 2,865to 2,599 for Ed Pikula of Cleveland.Not long before Hoogerhyde passed

in 1985, Earl Wickman visited him. Hehad lots of medals, but seemed morepleased with the time he had spentteaching others about archery. The

man had lectured widely and conductedseminars and shooting exhibitions. Heinstructed for 40 years at the WorldArchery Center. Those activities, asmuch as his arrow-splitting accuracy,earned him a place in the Archery Hall

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LeftThis backing shows agechecking but no splits. Its a thinstrip that predates by more than adecade the common use of fiber-

glass in bow limbs.

RightTall and handsome,Russell Hoogerhyde was once alifeguard. Between 1930 and 1940,the Michigan native dominated in

target archery.

of Fame in 1972. Russ was a prodigy,Earl conceded. Still, his feats with thelongbow were amazing. It was such asimple implement then. Crude by mod-ern standards. I have the bow Russellused to win the 1930 NationalChampionship.It was lancewood, by one report.

Tough and elastic, lancewood is used forfishing rods and billiard cues as well.Newspaper images of Hoogerhyde showhis bows with narrow, tapered limbs, D-shaped near the leather-wrapped grip.In some photos, the back appears dark,as if overlaid.I know this because Earl sent me a

scrapbook kept by another archer of theera. Clippings include nine ofHoogerhyde, six with photos. And Ivehad the champs 1930 bow in hand. Itsintact, one small crack marring the gripabove the dark cowhide. The nocks, inexcellent shape, appear to be of horn. Acork slab, presumably for a sight pin, isaffixed to the backing material, a blackstrip I havent identified. Twenty yearslater, it would have been fiberglassthanks to Fred Bears efforts in the 40s(see sidebar).The bow Russ Hoogerhyde gave to

Earl Wickman measures 69 inches tip totip with a flat back and rounded belly.English in cross-section a deep Dthe limbs taper gradually in thickness,from 3/4 inch at their working basesan inch and a half from the handle, to7/16 inch at the horn nocks. They arestill 5/8 inch deep halfway along each31-inch limb. Widest at the margins ofthe handle, the limbs taper evenly to7/16 inch at the nock bases. They followthe string at rest, surely due in part tofrequent use and ensuing age. The woodlimb laminates run belly-to-back, notacross the limbs, as bowyers lay themnow. The leather about the grip is joinedwith heavy lacing on the back, where afiller increases the grips bulk. Russellwas a tall, athletic fellow, with hands tomatch. A groove above the grip, worn byshaft passage, indicates he placedarrows against the juncture of leatherand wood. Photos show his hand closedaround the grip, his thumb up and for-ward at about 45 degrees.Hoogerhyde shot with his body erect,

feet at the traditional right angle to thetarget. He drew with a shooting glove to

an anchor below the chin, the stringpressing his chin and touching his nose,perfectly bisecting both. His bow armwas quite straight, protected by a lacedcuff.Id very much like to string this long-

bow, to feel what a champion felt eightdecades ago as the string came taut. Idlike to see the limbs arc and feel themflex, storing thrust. Id thrill to thesprinting shaft, whistling softly.But this bow has earned retirement.

To risk splintering such a graceful,hand-wrought implement after its serv-ice in the hands of a champion would beunconscionable.You keep it, Earl insisted, after Id

photographed the 80-year-old treasure.Youll get more use out of it than I willnow. Someone should tell RussellHoogerhydes story.

Over the course of a long career in theoutdoors, Wayne van Zwoll has workedfor the Washington Department ofGame, the BLM, and the ForestService. He has also taught writing andforestry at Utah State University. Awidely published journalist, he nowlives in Bridgeport, Washington withhis wife Alice.


Requiem for the Wooden Bow

With Russell Hoogerhydes record-shattering performances still

traditional bowhunter 2015-06-07

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