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The
five secrets of shooting a bow accurately This went on for three nights … arrows all over the floor … no tips, but the target butts shot out. I assigned myself to solving this mystery and for the third year in a row I had my suspicions, but this time, no loose roofs, no missing gear, no deer droppings, and no chimneys. This was beyond weird. So here we go again. I parked my body in the bathroom wrapped up in a sleeping bag with a knapsack as a pillow. The first night … nothing, and so I didn’t stay the next. Then I stayed the following night and at about 2 a.m., sounds from upstairs and the sounds of arrows hitting targets. Silently, I creped up the stairs when I got to the top; nothing was there but arrows! I thought I was dreaming until I stepped on one and fell head over heel on my butt. How can I hear arrows hitting targets and arrows on the floor but no one there? Picking up the mess, I pondered the situation — no missing arrows, no missing tips, and no idea of what was taking place. I stayed the night again when Dan came, and the situation was the same. I even showed him the rubbish barrel filled with arrows. We just scratched our heads and looked around, not one thing was missing. I told Dan that I was going to stay one more night and find out what was going on. He asked, "How?" I told him that I didn’t know, but I would think of something. There was much consternation over this "problem," but then again, nothing was missing. That night, as I prepared for a nap, I saw the fiber-optic pins on a sight in the case glowing — that gave me an idea! Digging in the case, I got out a pair of infrared binoculars. This was the night I would get to the bottom of this problem. So to bed I went, and about 2 a.m. I heard the noise again. Without moving I took the binoculars and eased the bathroom door open. With the binoculars in hand I sighted a small, green man carefully taking field points out of the draws. I sat tight. Not moving, I waited with the dark binoculars in hand. After about 45 minutes I heard faint breathing … so the binoculars went up. Now a little man in red was putting the points back in the draw. Now was the time to confront the situation. As I grabbed my target stabilizer, I said to the small man in red, "OK! The jig is up!" He turned around startled. The next words were, "Santa?" PUFF … smoke blew then cleared away and there was the man that I had encountered the last two years. Ho-ho-ho! "Are you back again," I said. "Well yes, why?" he asked. "Are you the one leaving the mess up stairs," I asked nicely. "Of course," he replied. "Why us?" I asked. He chuckled and replied that he stopped in all the archery shops in New England, but liked ours the best. I shook my head in disbelief. "Ok what’s up this year, what’s the gag?" I asked. Santa went on to explain he was getting ready for war. He went on to tell me he flew all over the world and the Middle East was a possible threat … air space and all and that noise from guns the enemy could detect him. But bows, well, they were silent. He went on to explain he developed deer dust that could make the deer invisible, but the sleigh had other tech problems. So he did things different. On the deer antlers, he installed strong rubber bands and his elves would ride on the deer. When they came in low the elves could put their tiny arrows on the bands that were attached to the antlers and shoot out the arrows but admitted they needed practice. Apparently, our archery shop was perfect for that practice. "Santa," I replied, "for three years now, you have entered my life and gave me grief … thank God your check did not bounce. He just ho-ho-ho’d. Then the little guys, in a green suit and red vest, stepped up. He told me to bend over, which I did. He then proceeded to tell me to open my mouth. I reluctantly did so. He looked in and said '"Great job, who did it?" I told him and he said he graduated and now he was the official dentist for all of the North Pole. "Santa, why all the arrows up stairs?" I asked. Santa said he made them, but as they were target practicing he forgot what time it was and as the sun started to rise he had to leave before it got light and had to leave them on the floor. Santa explained that next year would be different and asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told him a warmer sleeping bag and pillow because if he was coming back next year, I wanted to be warm. He ho-ho-ho’d again. Then told the elf, "See that he has dentures in his sock at Christmas, he needs them, he looks terrible without. I replied to Santa, "No it is the wrinkles you give me every year." He turned to the right put his finger to his nose and puff the store was empty; leaving me shaking my head and thinking, "I hope Saddham doesn’t eat deer meat … or Santa might give him the "shaft." Arthur Champoux has years of experience in the outdoors. He is has served on many advisory staffs and is a member in good standing of many outdoor organizations. Art currently works for Big Al's Archery in Seabrook, NH and writes for several publications. |
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