Michigan bowhunter can’t resist the call to return to archery’s roots.
My archery journey started about 18 years ago. Like most new archers, I was introduced to bowhunting through other archers, in my case it was coworkers.
My first bow was a used Browning compound with 60 percent letoff. The draw length was 3 inches longer than it should have been, but I loved it. I shot fingers and practiced until I could hit a pie plate consistently at 30 yards.
My first hunting trip was in northern Michigan. We stayed in a small rustic log cabin with an outhouse. I still remember how cold it got if someone forgot to stoke the fire at night. Even though the game pole was empty, my spirit was full.
The next year, I bought our first house with my wife to be. My new neighbor’s family had property in Alpena, and he invited me to hunt with him.
The first day out, I saw deer but had no shot opportunities. On the second morning, a large doe offered me a quartering away shot. She was my first deer with a bow, and I still have the tanned hide.
I purchased a new Darton Lightning compound bow the next year. After that I stepped up to a Martin Jaguar with 80 percent letoff.
I even started an archery-only big buck pool at work.
I harvested several does with my compound bows, but I never had any luck with bucks.
Then, about five years into my archery career, a friend introduced me to traditional archery. There was something special about shooting a wooden stick bow that captivated my soul. Not even the most expensive carbons can touch the beauty of cedar arrows. The simplicity, the weight and the silence of traditional archery just seemed to fit me.
My first bow was a Jerry Hill longbow I purchased through a Gander Mountain catalog. I overshot a couple of deer from time to time, but I never harvested anything with that bow.
For our fifth anniversary, my wonderful wife gave me money to purchase a custom bow. After shooting various types, I purchased a Black widow Longbow. I had them engrave it with “Happy 5th wedding Anniversary, love Laurie.” I harvested my first buck with that bow. It was a young deer with 5-inch velvet spikes, but it’s still my favorite mount.
As I progressed down the path of traditional archery, I fell in love with everything related to Fred Bear. I purchased all his old videos and collected Fred Bear Graylings. Laurie thought I was nuts.
As the years passed I harvested several does, but after losing two deer I decided I would go back to a compound with sights for hunting and shoot my traditional bow for pleasure.
I purchased a Mathews Switchback XT with a drop-away rest, fiber-optic sights and all the bells and whistles. I took a nice 7-pointer with that bow and even won the buck pool at work.
As much as I enjoyed that day, I couldn’t help thinking it would have been even better had I been shooting my primitive bow. I have nothing but admiration for modern archery equipment; the efficiency is remarkable. But shooting those tiny little groups with a compound just feels so mechanical.
When I pull an arrow from my back quiver, every shot is a journey of the soul. I had to go back to my traditional bow.
October of 2010 found me hunting on private property in Ortonville, Mich. I was afield with my Black Widow longbow, Northwest Archery cedar arrows tipped with Wensel Woodsman broadheads.
I was seeing bucks almost every time I went out. They weren’t magazine giants, just 4- and 6-pointers, but I had never had that kind of luck. One afternoon I saw bucks fighting 50 yards away for about 20 minutes. It was the first time I had seen bucks spar.
I stopped at the house to give Laurie’s uncle the update. I told him it was one of the best hunts I ever had, and I never even drew my bow.
The next day I went to the same tree but climbed up to 25 feet. I had never practiced from that high up, but I figured it wouldn’t make that big of a difference.
When a nice 6-pointer came walking through the swamp, I was in shooting position with my bow ready as he turned broadside at 25 yards. I drew back and picked a spot behind the shoulder and released only to see my arrow sail high and left.
When the broadhead buried itself into a tree, the buck ran 10 yards and stopped. I grabbed another arrow from my quiver, drew back and released. I missed high and left again.
I almost burned my bow that night, but I knew it was not the bow’s fault.
On Nov. 2, a friend who I introduced to traditional archery invited me to his property in Hillsdale County.
He showed me a great trail he said is a great afternoon spot, so I decided to keep things simple and take his advice. I was about 12 feet up a tree just off the trail by 4 p.m.
Because traditional bows are so quiet, I brought two practice arrows to shoot before I settled in. The first arrow revealed my arm guard was lose, and the second hit exactly where I was looking. That gave me all the confidence I needed for the evening.
Next I broke out the rangefinder to pinpoint potential shots.
At 5:30, I noticed movement about 50 yards in front of me. Five minutes later I saw a tail flutter. When I saw the deer raise its head, I was looking at the biggest rack I had ever seen in the woods.
I don’t know if Fred Bear was in the stand with me, but somehow I was very calm. I made a couple of soft grunts and a doe bleat, and the buck headed my way.
He was about 25 yards broadside when I picked a spot and sent a Northwest Archery cedar arrow tipped with a Wensel Woodsman on its way.
Because he was walking, I didn’t lead him as I should have, so the hit was farther back than intended. I watched him run off with blood spraying out and my arrow still in him.
I must have been in shock. That’s the only explanation for why I was so calm. I simply hung my bow on the hook, got out my water bottle and enjoyed the moment. I decided I would track him in the morning.
I called Laurie and told her what happened and thanked her for letting me go hunting. Sometimes it’s hard to get play time when you have a house full of little ones. I am blessed to have a wonderful wife and daughters.
I remained in my stand until dark. When my buddy walked up, I quietly descended and shared the story with him.
Once back at the hotel, the celebration began. Pizza and cold beer took my mind off what was sure to be a long night.
When we woke up for the morning hunt, I was nervous and anxious and the same time. I told my buddy to head to his stand; I would stay by the trucks for about 30 minutes and maybe pushing something his way.
I sat in a ladder stand near where I hunted the night before. I was not waiting for deer come by, but for the sun to get up high enough to help with tracking.
It was about 9 a.m. when I started to prepare for tracking when I heard my buddy yell out that we have good blood sign. Apparently he was more excited about tracking my deer than hunting.
The blood trail was easy to follow, but about 50 yards into it I started to walk ahead and look for the deer instead of staying on the trail. When I realized the error of my ways, I rejoined my buddy who was hung up on the track. He laughed and said he was losing faith in me as a tracker. On past hunts he called me a human blood hound. I soon picked up where the deer had turned.
We proceeded about another 20 yards, and I was looking for sign when I heard my buddy yell out, “Holy cow, you did shoot a big one!”
I jumped on his back and gave him a big bear hug and raced to my buck.
It was an 8-pointer with a 16-inch inside spread, and I ended up beating out a 9-pointer to win the buck pool for the second consecutive year. I made sure to have “Longbow” engraved alongside my name.
To top off the best bowhunting season of my life, I used a slug gun to take another 8-pointer with a 13-inch inside spread from the same treestand I overshot that buck twice in October.
I won’t likely have another season like 2010, but it won’t be because I didn’t try. I think the only thing that could top it will be when my children join me in the woods. Ava, my oldest daughter, has been shooting a 20-pound Grayling Bear Cub recurve and is progressing nicely.