Memories from an Old Hunter
By Gary Greene
Back when I was eleven, I watched in awe, as the older brother of a friend of mine made his own arrows. He had a fletcher that would glue one feather on an arrow at a time. After attaching the three untrimmed turkey feathers to his arrow, he would brush on paints to the arrow crest creating his very own unique color pattern to each arrow. As his brother and I watched and creeped in for a closer view, he explained to us that… “No one else has the same crest on their arrows that I have.”
That Christmas I wished for and received all the specific arrow making equipment; a fletcher, a crester arrow shafts, nocks, piles (points) along with the special glues. I made my own arrows and today I still have one of those arrows above my desk as I type these thoughts.
What fond memories I have of creating my very own custom made arrows with my very own personalized crest. To me, it was exciting to have in my quiver, arrows that I made. More exciting was the thought that I was about to use those arrows that Christmas break while pursuing pheasants and squirrels.
We called our arrows semi-flu- flu because the three untrimmed feathers limited the speed of the arrow after about thirty/forty yards and they were easier to find and reuse. The real flu-flu arrows spun the long turkey feather around the arrow shaft in a spiral pattern. These arrows had even more flight restriction that our arrows.
After hunting most days during that Christmas break, I shot numerous times, lost a few arrows, some were stuck up in trees and some were lost in tall switchgrass fields. I never hit any of my targets, but what an impression that first season made on me. I was hooked on all the aspects of the hunt.
That next fall, I missed more shots, lost more arrows, and some of my arrows shattered as they bounced off tree limbs. Once, my father had showed me how to repair our old broken wood baseball bats by placing a wood screw in the break and taping it over. So with that in mind, I drilled holes in both ends of my broken arrows and put a nail in one end and pushed it in the other half of the arrow and then taped it up. Believe or not sometimes the arrow actually stayed together and was usable……that is for a while.
One night as it was getting dark, and I was already late for supper, I had a squirrel treed. My first shot was an attempt to scare the squirrel down the tree where I could get a closer, second shot and it worked. As he came running down the tree, I reached in my quiver for another arrow and pulled out one of my crooked, nailed together arrows. I didn’t have time to reach for another as it was this arrow or no shot for me. I drew back just as the squirrel approached about 15 feet above me and coming down the tree.
I can still remember we made eye contact and he froze to the tree. I released my shot. My blunt tipped arrow landed right in his back and dropped him from the tree. My dad had told me how tough squirrels can be so I stood on that first one for quite some time before he stopped moving.
As I type this, that entire three minute hunt is as vivid today as it was in 1963. That crooked semi flu-flu arrow is that arrow that is above my desk. I love that arrow.