Top_Heavy's World

The school bus stopped in front of the tiny 2 story farm house and young boy sprang from the bottom step and ran for the house. He threw the door open and raced into the basement. The old stone and mortar basement was his castle of dreams, it housed and protected all his worldly possesions. 3 traps, one found during the summer still stapled to a log, a 1 1/2 Victor single long spring, the other 2, double coil springs in #2, a long forgotten fox set picked up on a grassy hill. Boots, old army boots his Lt Col father had worn toward the end of his military career. Coat, a single olive drab military coat, too big for his teenage frame. Black camo face paint, greasey and thick, military surplus for sure, no yuppy greens or browns here. His bow was a master piece, not a finer piece of wood and metal had ever been assembled. Bear was the name on the limb, not a finer name was ever printed on a bow. The damp smell of mildew was a welcome as he gathered his coat and bow, he was going deer hunting.Donning the coat, the tall and very thin blonde boy changed into his only boots and grabbed his bow and small tin of face paint. The walk to the timber was long, but once there he was free. The distance flew by as his mind raced, monster bucks paraded by in his minds eye. Soon he reached the fence, not just any fence, THE fence. This fence marked the end of his father's land, once crossed he was in wild and less familiar country. Western state plains were invisioned and vast country untamed awaited. He stepped across the fence, his long legs able to clear the top wire. Suddenly remembering his clean face, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small compact and using his middle 3 fingers he lightly scooped a small amount of heavy grease and ran his fingers across his cheeks, first the left side, then the right. He was ready now, replacing the lid and putting the tin back in his coat pocket he finally felt like a hunter. It didn't matter that he had unmatched arrows in his quiver, he could shoot the bottom out of a soda can at 20 yards. It didn't matter that his hair was uncovered, white and unkempt. He was hunting. It never occured to him that deer might be able to see his blue jeans, the same pair he had worn for the past 2 days of middle school. He was hunting.
He knocked an arrow, one of 3 that came in a cardboard set at Walmart. The simple broad head looked awesome and sleek as he canted the bow to avoid a sumac tree. He was hunting. A burr oak, still heavy with leaves, caught his attention, his gut told him to stop. 3 different sets of foot steps could be heard, strange steps, light but larger than a squirrel. One of the crunching sets were moving right up the trail he was about to follow into the dark timber. The under brush at the edge of the field was thick, sprouts about head high and covered with tiny thorns. The bare dirt, deer trail made an abrupt turn just past a particularly thick clump of bushes. There, where the trail turned 90 degrees, was a clearing, perhaps the width of his shoulders. That clearing wasn't really noticable before, but now there was a face in the gap. A young buck, sleek with his early fall coat, red brown with a beautiful white throat patch. Antlers of polished beauty adorned his head, 4 points per side. The eyes held unyielding, both the boy and the deer frozen in time. Moments passed and the magnificant buck turned, as his head was shielded, the boy raised his bow. In a moment of practiced motion it was drawn and the string brought to cheek. No sights were needed, they just caught burrs and they cost too much. His fingers barely moved as the upper chest and ribs passed quickly through the tiny window. The deer hesitated and the flank was exposed, a liver shot. His fingers straightened a tiny bit more and loosed the shaft. The arrow vanished and a strange thump was heard. The deer jumped and the chartruse knock lit up like a light. His eyes followed that knock for a dozen yards, as it remained visible above the bushes. The clank of the aluminum shaft against trees could be heard farther down the trail. Time stood still, the boy had just shot a deer, his arrow was no longer tethered and the blade had bit deep. He was hunting.
Blood, not as thick as his face paint, but sticky and thick just the same. The shine and darkness on the leaves were not hard to follow. The tiny creek, barely flowing, still held a line of color, the current making an arc of smoke like swirls. He moved on, a few more steps. He stopped and there before him lay his prize. He noticed the eyes and pulled another shaft from the quiver, he drew again and instinctively found the front leg. The deer tried to rise, but the boy was quicker. The shaft hit its mark, the body laying back and the front leg stretched out. The neck straightened and the mouth opened. A bellow escaped the beast, a deep, rumble of a noise that made his hair stand on end and his mouth go dry. He stood looking at what he had done. A beautiful creature, put here just for him, lay at his feet. The second shaft twitching in a rythmic manner. The final beats of life pulsing movement in a strange and overwhelming way. He was hunting.
The confidence rose in the skinny boy, his mother would be proud. He had told her of an encounter years before, a doe had walked to within inches of his perch. "Could you have killed it?" was her question. Not sure if she meant ability or personality, he simply answered "yes". Mother would see that this boy, given the tools of a man, could provide. His father had known his heart and had helped the boy with another buck, his first, during the gun season the year before. Neither parent had ever hunted deer, but they encouraged the boy in ways so special.
It's hard to believe I shot that deer, my first with a bow, 26 years ago. The small oak is now over 4o feet tall and the deer path is still there. I can see that tree from my kitchen window, the house I built as a man. That first magical buck, wearing his first set of antlers, changed my life and planted a seed of archery that has ignited a fire only death can extinguish. My son hopes to hunt his first season this fall. At only 4 he is much younger and smaller than I was, but his fire has been lit, and I long to see it flair. The memory of that little buck and those specific details I noticed, is one of my favorite to date. Times were much more simple back then, life was less complicated. I know who I am, who I have become, and I remember where I came from, because I have hunted.

I spent some time with 3 bows of differing draw weights. I chronographed each arrow and ran all information thru a kinetic energy calculator to find energy transfer. I noticed that lower poundages produced less variation from the lightest 366 grain arrow to the heaviest 414 grain arrow, the variance was only .75 lbs for 3 arrows in that weight class. The heaviest draw weight varied by 2.3 lbs of energy across the same spectrum. The speed variation between the bows was exactly 32 fps for all 3 arrows.

What I see right off is that I am shooting 5 grains per lb of draw for the heaviest draw bow and going up from there in a good part of the power stoke of the bow. These same arrows are all over 6 grains per pound of draw for the lightest bow, and the energy efficiency of the bow is maximized. Basically tonight I came to the realization that I wasted a couple of hours showing that I need to get lighter arrows for my friend to shoot at his light draw. It was fun and amazing to see first hand the variables and results.

I located 2 PSE bows to shoot and speed test tonight as well, so we will be using those in tests soon. I don't need to reinvent the wheel as most of the energy charts and noise levels are published by the manufacturers, I just wanted to understand what I have in relation to killability. I will be able to use the poundages, weights and experience I have with well over 100 bow kills to better understand what the numbers they print really mean. With out these references I don't think comprehension for my analitical style would be very complete ! I will hit those manufacturer's charts in the morning to compare the single cam bows to the dual cam bows, then I will pick the bows that are even in the running. I will arrange to start shooting the best 3 or 4 to find the first part of this set up. By the end of the weekend I should have a bow picked.

I am a big poundage guy, I have been shooting a bow at deer sized animals since I was 16. I hunted with the 2nd bow I owned and by the time I got it, I was able to draw 70 lbs. I have shot 70 lbs ever since, I like Kinetic energy and flat trajectories. I have changed shafts to get the perfect balance of spine, weight, style and durability at this draw weight, and I feel my set up is as good as there is available. I have been given a mission, to find the best archery set up with a 60 lb draw. I need the most energy efficiet and Kinetic Energy transferring bow I can find. I am going to find the shaft that shoots best with the cam or wheel type, find the most accurate and deadly broad heads,and fletch those arrows with the best vanes I can find. I am going to put together the flattest shooting, most forgiving, most accurate and most powerful HUNTING bow money can buy. I will be paying for the set up at the end of the shopping and testing phase, so we will be able to add up prices and compare. This won't be an act in theory, but reality that will be put to the test this fall to see how well I did. Here is the kicker, once the equipment is picked, I am going to do all the proshop work on he rig and set it up, tune it, cut and fletch the arrows... do it all! I hope to shoot the bow enough for component testing, but once the assembly is done, I am sending it to a friend and HE is going to be able to grade me on the set up and equipment, he will be telling the stories of great equipment or flawed concepts.
I have been working on energy calculations etc tonight, and the store time starts tommorow. This should turn into one heck of a series, stick around!

I pulled flash cards from my cameras today, and in the process of pouring out a fresh bag of corn I found this antler. This is the left side of a special little buck, a 4X3, on one of my urban properties. I was sort of amazed as I poured out corn here on Thursday and I found the antler today, and there is already a small squirrel chew on the beam! The camera was running but there were no pics of him at the corn. Either he showed up on Friday night when the snow covered the lens during 35 pictures, or he popped in during the delay between pics of other deer. I managed 200 pics on this camera and none of this buck, plus, the camera is just a touch too high to pick up the antler where it was laying...

This is the little 4X3 with both sides and his left antler after he dropped it this weekend. My son loves antlers as much as I do, so it might be tough to get this one back, that's ok, its only the first shed of the year!

I often wonder what someone looks like, where they are when they write or call, what they have for inspiration... well, I thought I would share a little part of my world and show you where I often am when writing here.

This is the couch and chair I usually lounge in when writing. The room is full of many of my heads and mounts as my trophy room isn't completed yet. Most of the mounts seen in this picture are Dave Reisner's, hopefully they will be at his house before I pick of the 6 others I have currently at the taxidermist. This is in the lower level of the house, quiet and warm. I have 22 shoulder mounts, 14 skull mounts, 2 fish, 2 birds, and 9 antler mounts all visible from my perch. I think that would be considered "Inspiration". I can also see a stack of paintings, pictures and other framed items from the past. It is amazing, how many stories are held by the items in this room. I know it is often called a trophy room, but to me it is more like a Memory Room.