Slim Randles' Home Country

On target

[December 11, 2010]  Herb is a retired businessman, which tends to make the rest of us think he is practical. That wouldn't be entirely accurate, however, as Herb has the silent soul of a romantic. How else can anyone explain his passion for archery?

Most nice days he can be found out in his backyard, terrorizing a stack of hay bales with a target pinned to it. Many shooters do this, of course, but Herb is different. In this age of compound bows that resemble portable gym equipment, sights that glow in the dark, releases that resemble handguns and arrows made of space-age materials, Herb is a throwback to the old days.

He shoots a wooden recurve bow and uses wooden arrows. His fingers and bow arm are protected by leather rather than plastic, and he trusts his own eye and form to place the arrow in the paper plate affixed to the hay bales.

Dud was watching him one afternoon.

"You shoot very well, Herb."

"Thanks."

"Wouldn't you get more speed from a compound bow and some graphite arrows?"

"Sure."

"Well ...?"

Herb smiled at him. "Dud, if I judged the fun of shooting by how fast I could get something to the target, I'd go in the house and get my deer rifle. It'll shoot circles around any bow ever made."

Herb hesitated a minute. "You see, Dud, if I hit the target, I want it to be mostly because I did it right and not some ammunition factory somewhere. I'm selfish. I want the credit ... and I'm willing to accept the blame if I miss."

[Text from file received from Slim Randles]

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