I got my first bow in 1974. My dad came home one day after work, reached into the bed of his truck and pulled out a fiberglass longbow. He turned and handed it, along with four arrows, to me as said, "Here, Rick. Go learn how to shoot this." I have no idea what brand bow it was, but certainly nothing fancy. I suspect it, like most sporting goods equipment we got, came from Miss Fairy's General Store, which was the closest retail facility to our home, about five miles away.

Side note: My buddies and I used to carry our fishing poles and pull a little red wagon as we would walk to Miss Fairy's, picking up returnable bottles along the dirt road, and then the highway, to her store. Once, there, we'd usually have enough bottles for each of us to buy a Nehi Grape soda, a candy bar (If her son, Junior, was running the store, we'd buy a pack of Red Man chewing tobacco to share) and a box of crickets or fishing worms; and she'd let us fish in her pond across the highway from her store.

At any rate, I took the bow and (not so) quickly braced it. I'd seen my grandfather use the old step-through, or Boy Scout, method of doing this, but he sure made it look easier to that scrawny 9-year-old than it turned out to be.

With the bow now braced, four arrows I kept ready for instant access via my quiver (little brother), and with no idea of what a nock point was, I set out into a 50-acre patch of woods we had at the back of one or our neighbor’s pasture to take on every big game animal that hid there. They were in trouble now! Within just a few minutes, we spotted my first prospective big trophy conquest - a grey squirrel perched about 20 feet, near the top, of a hickory tree. The thrill of the stalk had begun!

Quiver and I moved slowly. These beasts are crafty, so we can't rush this. We studied the majestic quarry for a while, whispering to each other how we would later settle into bed with our bellies full from the bounty that lay ahead. The creature eventually became unfazed by our presence. Was he arrogant? No, we had clearly become the masters of stealth – one with Mother Earth. This is going to be easy! Finally, we closed to within about 15 feet of the base of this regal creature’s hickory home. My eyes locked onto the soon-to-be rotisserie rodent with the same telekinetic intensity I used so successfully before to will Evel Knievel's Harley-Davidson over many of his jumps. Without breaking concentration from the death stare I had activated, I reached out toward my quiver until I felt him place the pristine, field-pointed arrow at my fingertips. Then I realized that I have to load this arrow onto the string. Ok. Timeout…

Alright, now we’re ready. Stare reengaged.

“You ready to eat some squirrel burger, Quiver?” I asked.

“What’s squirrel burger?” whispers the four-year-old. Kids!

“Never mind. Just watch where he lands and jump on him if he’s still movin’ when he hits the ground. You got it?”

“Got it.”

I raise the bow, now lethally loaded with my can’t-miss ammo. I begin my draw. “Why is this stupid arrow swinging out to the right like that? It never does THAT in the movies. Oh, maybe it needs to go on this side of the bow.”

At this point, Trophy Squirrel is clearly thinking of coming down from the tree to see if he needs to lead these two lost lads back to their house before it gets dark.

"Just hold what you’ve got there, supper. I’m coming for you now!"

I draw. Take aim. Quiver bends his knees and slides his right foot back slightly so that his heel is off the ground – ready to pounce on the beast like a coon hound. Everything comes into focus. My senses become unaware of anything other than my mind’s desire to launch this Evel Knievel arrow into this future feast I’m about to provide for my family. I'll come home a man tonight! Mom can cook anything! I loose the arrow and watch it sail beautifully, three feet high over the squirrel and into the hickory tree left and 15 feet beyond my nemesis’s abode.

“Did you see that?” asks Quiver.

“I saw. He must have an invisible force field or something.”

“A what?”

“Never mind. Let’s get you up that tree before it gets dark.”

“Why do I have to go get it?”

“Because I’m the hunter. Keeping track of the arrows is your job. You know, like in Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom? You’re Jim. Now, come on. Go get that arrow and we’ll come back in the morning and try some more.”

And thus my love affair with archery and only real vice had taken hold. I was a bow hunter.

I’ve literally lost count of the number of bows I’ve owned or the number of animals I’ve taken with a bow since then. I don’t hunt as much as I used to, or as much as I’d like, but I still shoot almost daily, and love to rove. Within the past year or two, I’ve come full-circle with regard to the type of bow I find appealing. It’s a Hill-style ASL. The simplicity of it speaks to me unlike any other bow design. I don’t know if I’ve even strung another type of bow for any purpose other than to take pictures in the past year. And so I’ve determined it’s time to part ways with most of my bows, and with the exception of one or two really special or sentimental old friends, all of my bows with a “pistol grip” style of handle are soon to belong to others.

I listed a few for sale recently, but took the ads down because I’m about to take this lovely woman (who, for nearly 38 years, has stood by me through thick and thin - no easy feat, I assure you), on a “Make Some More Memories” getaway, and I don’t want to be unresponsive to messages or emails from interested parties while we’re away.

More beautiful and gracious than ever, this angel has always been out of my league – her agreeing to marry me proves God has a sense of humor.

Anyway, inspired by Justin’s “Skinny/Short/Fat Box Day” series, I wanted to begin my goodbye therapy by posting some pictures of some of the bows that will be leaving me to hopefully fulfill their destinies with someone else. So here's to your viewing pleasure. More to come. Safe and healthy wishes to all!

Border Covert Hunter

Frank San Marco

Habu Receptor

Habu Vyper Kahn

Morrison MTX

Schafer Silvertip Recurve

Schafer Silvertip Recurve

Schafer Silvertip Longbow