extent. One that pulls softly at first and in the last part of the draw
is very stiff, will require more careful shooting to get the exact
length of flight than one whose tension is evenly distributed.
Reflexed bows are harder on strings than those that follow the string.
A breaking cord may fracture your bow. I saw Wallace Bryant lose a
beautiful specimen this way. One of Aldred's most perfect make, dark
Spanish yew and more than fifty years old, flew to splinters just
because a treacherous string parted in the center. Sturdy hunting bows
are not so liable to this catastrophe, but be sure you are not caught
out in a game country with a broken string and no second. You will see
endless opportunities to shoot. Wax is to an archer what tar is to a
sailor; use it often, and always have two strings to your bow.
VI
HOW TO MAKE AN ARROW
Fletching is a very old art and, necessarily, must have many empirical
methods and principles involved. There are innumerable types of arrows,
and an equal number of ways of making them. For an excellent
description of a good way to make target arrows, the reader is referred
to that chapter by Jackson in the book _American Archery_.
Having learned several aboriginal methods of fletching and studied all
the available literature on the subject, we have adopted the following
maneuvers to turn out standard hunting arrows: The first requisite is
the shaft. Having tested birch, maple, hickory, oak, ash, poplar,
alder, red cedar, mahogany, palma brava, Philippine nara, Douglas fir,
red pine, white pine, spruce, Port Orford cedar, yew, willow, hazel,
eucalyptus, redwood, elderberry, and bamboo, we have adopted birch as
the most rigid, toughest and suitable in weight for hunting arrows.
Douglas fir and Norway pine are best for target shafts; bamboo for
flight arrows.
The commercial dowel, frequently called a maple dowel, is made of white
birch and is exactly suited to our purpose. It may be obtained in
quantities from dealers in hardwoods, or from sash and door mills. If
possible, you should select these dowels yourself, to see that they are
straight, free from cross-grain, and of a rigid quality. For hunting
bows drawing over sixty pounds, the dowels should be three-eighths of
an inch in diameter; for lighter bows five-sixteenths dowels should be
used. They come in three-foot lengths and bundles of two hundred and
fifty. It is a good plan to buy a bundle at a time and keep them in the
attic to dry and season.
Where dowels are not obtainable, you can have a hickory or birch plank
sawed up or split into sticks half an inch in diameter, and plane these
to the required size, or turn them on a lathe, or run them through a
dowel-cutting machine.
Take a dozen dowels from your stock and cut them to a length of
twenty-eight and one-quarter inches, or an inch less or more according
to the length of your arms. In doing this you should try to remove the
worst end, keeping that portion with the straightest grain for the head
of your shaft.
Having cut them to length, take a hand plane and shave the last six
inches of the rear end or shaftment so that the diameter is reduced to
a trifle more than five-sixteenths of an inch at the extremity.
Now comes the process of straightening your shafts. By squinting down
the length of the dowel you can observe the crooked portions. If these
are very bad, they should be heated gently over a gas flame and then
bent into proper line over the base of the thumb or palm. A pair of
gloves will protect the hand from burning. If the deviation be slight,
then mere manual pressure is often sufficient. During this process the
future arrow should be tested for strength. If it cannot stand
considerable bending it deserves to break. If it is limber, discard it.
Nocking the shaft comes next. Hunting arrows require no horn, bone,
aluminum, or fiber nock. Simply place the smaller end of the shaft in a
vise and cut the end across the grain with three hack saws bound
together, your cut being about an eighth of an inch wide by
three-eighths deep; finish it carefully with a file. Thus nock them all
and sandpaper them smooth throughout, rounding the nocked end
gracefully. To facilitate this process I place one end in a
motor-driven chuck and hold the rapidly revolving shaft in a piece of
sandpaper in my hand. When finished the diameter should be a trifle
under three-eighths of an inch at the center and about five-sixteenths
at the nock.
Mark them now, where the feathers and binding should go. At a point one
inch from the base of the nock make a circular line, this is for the
rear binding; five inches above this make another, this is for the
feather; one inch above this make another, this is for the front
binding; and an inch above this make another, this is for the painted
ribbon.
Feathers come next, but really they should have come long ago. The best
are turkey feathers, so we won't talk about any others. The time to get
them is at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then you should get on good
terms with your butcher and have him save you a boxful of turkey wings.
These you chop with a hatchet on a block, saving only the six or seven
long pinions. Put them away with moth balls until you need them. Of
course, if you cannot get turkey feathers when you want them, goose,
chicken, duck, or plumes from a feather duster may be employed. Your
milliner can tell you where to purchase goose feathers, but these are
expensive.
Cutting arrow feathers is a pleasant occupation around the fire in the
winter evenings, and the real archer has the happiness of making his
tackle while his mind dwells upon the coming spring shooting. As he
makes his shaft he wonders what fate will befall it. Will it speed away
in a futile shot, or last the grilling of a hundred practice flights,
or will it be that fortunate arrow which flies swift and true and
brings down the bounding deer? How often have I picked up a shaft and
marked it, saying, "With this I'll kill a bear." And with some I've
done it, too!
So your feathers should be cut in quantity. This is the way you cut
them: Select a good clean one, steady it between your palms while with
your fingers you separate the bristles at the tip. Pull them apart,
thus splitting the rib down the center. If by chance it should not
split evenly, take your sharpened penknife and cut it straight.
Have ready a little spring clip, such as is used to hold your cravat or
magazine in a book store. One end of this is bent about a safety-pin so
that it can be fastened to your trousers at the knee. Now you have a
sort of knee vise to hold your feather while trimming it. Place the
butt of the rib in the jaws of the clip and shave it down to the
thickness of a thirty-second of an inch. Make this even and level so
that the feather stands perpendicular to it. With a pair of long
scissors cut off the lateral excess of rib on the concave side of the
feather. This permits it to straighten out.
At the same stage cut the feather roughly to shape; that is, five
inches long, half an inch at the anterior end, an inch wide
posteriorly, and having an inch of stem projecting at each extremity.
For this work you must keep your pocket-knife very sharp. With practice
you should cut a feather in two or three minutes.
Donnan Smith, a worthy archer and a good fletcher, has devised a spring
clamp which holds the feather while being cut. It is composed of a
strong binder clip to which are soldered two thin metal jaws the size
and shape of a properly cut feather. Having stripped his feather, he
clamps it rib uppermost between the jaws and trims the rib with a
knife, or on a fast-revolving emery stone, or sandpaper disc. This
accomplished, he turns the feather around in the clamp and cuts the
bristles to the exact shape of the metal jaws with a pair of scissors.
It is an admirable method.
Some fletchers cut their feathers on a board by eye with only a knife.
James Duff, the well-known American maker of tackle, learned this in
the shop of Peter Muir, the famous Scotch fletcher.
If you wish to dye your feathers it may be done by obtaining the
aniline dye used on wool. Adding about 10 per cent of vinegar to the
aqueous solution of the stain, heat it to such a temperature that you
can just stand your finger in it. Soak your feathers in this hot
solution, stir them for several minutes, then lay them out on a piece
of newspaper to dry in the sun. Red, orange, and yellow are used for
this purpose; the former helps one to find a lost arrow, but all colors
tend to run if wet, and stain the clothing.
Having prepared a sufficient quantity of feathers, you are ready to
fledge your shaft. Select three of a similar color, strength, and from
the same wing of the bird. With a stick, run a little liquid glue along
the rib of each and lay it aside. Along the axis of your arrow run
three parallel lines of glue down the shaftment. The first of these is
for the cock feather and should be on a line perpendicular to the nock.
The other two are equidistant from this. A novice should mark these
lines with a pencil at first.
Now comes a difficult task, that of putting on the feathers. Many ways
and means have been devised, and in target arrows nothing is better
than just sticking them on by hand. Some have used clamps, some use
pins, some lash the feathers on at the extremities with thread, and
then glue beneath them. We take the oldest of all methods, which is
shown in the specimens of old Saxon arrows rescued from the Nylander
boat in Holland, [1]
[Footnote 1: See _Archer's Register_ of 1912.]
also depicted in many old English paintings--that of binding the
feathers with a piece of thread running spirally up the shaft between
the bristles.
Starting at a point six inches from the nock, set your thick end of the
rib in position on the lines of glue. Hold the shaft under your left
arm while with the left thumb, forefinger, and middle finger steady the
feathers as they are respectively put in place. With one end of a piece
of cotton basting thread in your teeth and the spool in your right
hand, start binding the ribs down to the arrow shaft. After a few turns
proceed up the shaftment, adjusting the feathers in position as you
rotate the arrow. Let your basting thread slip between the bristles of
the feather about half an inch apart. When you come to the rear end,
finish up with several overlapping turns and a half-hitch. Line up your
feathers so that they run straight down the shaftment and are
equidistant. Of one thing be very sure--see that your feather runs a
trifle toward the concave side, looking from the rear, and that the
rear end deviates quite perceptibly toward this direction. This insures
proper steering qualities to your arrow. Set it aside and let it dry.
When all are dry, remove the basting thread and trim the ribs to the
pencil marks, leaving them about three-quarters of an inch long. Bevel
their ends to a slender taper.
The next process is that of binding the feathers in position. The
material which we use for this purpose is known as ribonzine, a thin
silk ribbon used to bind candy boxes. In the absence of this, floss
silk may be employed. Cut it into pieces about a foot long. Put a
little liquid glue on the space reserved for binding and, while
revolving the shaft under your arm, apply the ribbon in lapping spirals
over the feather ribs. Cover them completely and have the binding
smooth and well sized in glue. The ribbon near the nock serves to
protect the wood at this point from splitting. When dry, clean your
shaft from ragged excess of glue with knife and sandpaper, and finish
up by running a little diluted glue with a small brush along the side
of the feather ribs to make them doubly secure.
Now comes the painting.
We paint arrows not so much for gayness, as to preserve them against
moisture, to aid in finding them when lost, and to distinguish one
man's shaft from another's.
Chinese vermilion and bright orange are colors which are most
discernible in the grass and undergrowth. With a narrow brush, paint
between your feathers, running up slightly on to the rib, covering the
glue. If your silk ribbon binding is a bright color--mine is green--you
can leave it untouched. We often paint the nock a distinguishing color
to indicate the type of head at the other end, so that in drawing the
shaft from the quiver we can know beforehand what sort it will be. The
livery should be painted in several different rings. My own colors are
red, green, and white.
One or two coats are applied according to the fancy of the archer. The
line between the various pigments should be striped with a thin black
ring.
Unless you use a lathe to hold your arrows in the painting process, you
can employ two wooden blocks or rests, one having a shallow countersunk
hole on its lateral face to hold the nock while rotating, the other
having a groove on its upper surface. Clamp these on a bench, or on the
opposite arms of your easy chair before the fire, and you can turn your
shafts slowly by hand while you steady your brush and apply the paint
in even rings.
At this stage I have added a device which seems to be helpful in
nocking arrows in the dark, or while keeping one's eye on the game.
Having put a drop of glue on the ribbon immediately above the nock and
behind the cock feather, I affix a little white glass bead. One can
feel this with his thumb as he nocks his arrow, when in conjunction
with knots on his string, he can perform this maneuver entirely by
touch.
The paint having dried, varnish or shellac your arrow its entire
length, avoiding, of course, any contact with the feathers. In due time
sandpaper the shaft and repeat the varnishing. Rub this down with
steelwool and give it a finishing touch with floor wax.
Here we are ready for the arrow-heads.
We use three types of points. The first is a blunt head made by binding
the end of the shaft with thin tinned iron wire for half an inch and
running on solder, then drilling a hole in the end of the shaft and
inserting an inch round-headed screw. In place of soldered wire, one
can use an empty 38-caliber cartridge, either cutting off the base or
drilling out the priming aperture to admit the screw. This type of
arrow we use for rough practice, shooting tin cans, trees, boxes, and
other impedimenta. It makes a good shaft for birds, rabbits, and small
game.
A second type of head we use is made of soft steel about a sixteenth of
an inch thick. We cut it with a hack saw into a blunt, barbed,
lanceolate shape having a blade about an inch long and half an inch
wide, also a tang about the same length and three-eighths of an inch
wide.
This we set into a slot sawed in the arrow in the same plane as the
nock, and bind the shaft with tinned wire, number 30, soldered
together. The end of the shaft has a gradual bevel where it meets the
lateral face of the head.
This is a sturdy little point and will stand much abuse. We use it for
shooting birds, squirrels, and small vermin.
But the point that we prefer to shoot is the old English broad-head.
Starting from small dimensions, we have gradually increased its size,
weight and strength and cutting qualities till now we shoot a head
whose blade is three inches long, an inch and a quarter wide, a trifle
less than a thirty-second thick. It has a haft or tubular shank an inch
long. Its weight is half an ounce. The blades are made of spring steel.
After annealing the steel we score it diagonally with a hack saw, when
it may be broken in triangular pieces in a vise. With a cold chisel, an
angular cut is made in the base to form the barbs. With a file and
carborundum stone, they are edged and shaped into blades as sharp as
knives. Soft, cold drawn steel will serve quite as well as spring steel
for these blades, but it does not hold its edge. It may be purchased at
hardware supply depots in the form of strips an inch and a half wide,
by one-thirty-second thick, and is much easier to work than the
tempered variety.
Then taking three-eighths number .22 gauge steel or brass tubing, we
smash it to a short bevel on the anvil, file off the corners and cut it
to a length of an inch and three-quarters. This makes the haft or
socket. Fixing a blade, barbs uppermost in the vise, this tubing is
driven lightly into position, the filed edges of the beveled end
permitting the blade to be held between the sides of the tubing. A
small hole is drilled through the tubing and blade, and a soft iron
wire rivet is inserted. The blade is held over a gas flame while the
joint between it and the tubing is filled with soft soldering compound
and ribbon solder.
The heated head is plunged into water and later finished with file and
emery cloth. The whole process of making a steel broad-head requires
about twenty minutes. Every archer should manufacture his own. Then he
will treat them with more respect. Very few artisans can make them, and
if they can, their price is exorbitant.
Be sure that your heads are straight and true. To set them on your
shaft, cut the wood to fit, then heat a bit of ferrule cement and set
them on in the same plane as the nock. In the absence of ferrule
cement, which can be had at all sporting goods stores, one can use
chewing gum, or better yet, a mixture of caoutchouc pitch and scale
shellac heated together in equal parts. Heat your fixative as you would
sealing wax, over a candle, also heat the arrow and the metal head. Put
on with these adhesives, it seldom pulls off. In the wilds we often fix
the head with pine resin. Glue can be used, but it is not so good.
Having brought your arrows to this stage, the next act is to trim the
feathers. First run them gently through the hand and smooth out their
veins; then with long-bladed scissors cut them so that the anterior end
is three-eighths of an inch high, while the posterior extremity is one
inch. I also cut the rear tip of the feather diagonally across,
removing about half an inch to prevent it getting in the way of the
fingers when on the string.
Mr. Arthur Young cuts his feathers in a long parabola with a die made
of a knife blade bent into shape. These things are largely a matter of
taste.
Look your arrows over; see that they are straight and that the feathers
are in good shape, then shoot them to observe their flight. Number them
above the ribbon so that you can keep record of their performances. The
weight of such an arrow is one and one-half ounces.
The small blunt, barb-headed arrows we often paint red their entire
length. Because they are meant for use in the brush, they are more
readily lost; the bright color saves many a shaft.
To make a hunting arrow requires about an hour, and one should be
willing to look for one almost this time when it is lost. Finding
arrows is an acquired art. Don't forget the advice of Bassanio: "In my
school days when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the
self-same flight, the self-same way, with more advised watch to find
the other forth; and by adventuring both, I oft found both."
If, indeed, the shaft cannot be found, then give it up with good grace,
remembering that after all it is pleasant work to make one. Dedicate it
to the cause of archery with the hope that in future days some one may
pick it up and, pricking his finger on the barb, become inoculated with
the romance of archery.
When an arrow lodges in a root or tree, we work the head back and forth
very carefully to withdraw it. A little pair of pliers comes in very
handy here. If it is buried deeply we cut the wood away from it with a
hunting knife. Blunt arrows, called bird bolts by Shakespeare, are best
to shoot up in the branches of trees at winged and climbing game.
In our quivers we usually carry several light shafts we call eagle
arrows, because they are designed principally for shooting at this
bird.
Once while hunting deer, and observing a doe and fawn drinking at a
pool, we saw a magnificent golden eagle swoop down, catch the startled
fawn and lift it from the ground. Mr. Compton and I, having such arrows
in our quivers, let fly at the struggling bird of prey. We came so
close that the eagle loosened the grip of his talons and the fawn
dropped to earth and sped off with its mother, safe for the time being.
[Illustration: SEVERAL STEPS IN ARROW MAKING]
Often we have shot at hawks and eagles high up in the air, where to
reach them we needed a very light arrow, and they have had many close
calls. For these we use a five-sixteenths dowel, feather it with short,
low cut parabolic feathers and put a small barbed head on it about an
inch in length. Such an arrow we paint dark green, blue, or black, so
that the bird cannot discern its flight.
It is great sport to shoot at some lazy old buzzard as he comes within
range. He can see the ordinary arrow, and if you shoot close, he
dodges, swoops downward, flops sidewise, twists his head round and
round, and speeds up to leave the country. He presents the comic
picture of a complacent old gentleman suddenly disturbed in his
monotonous existence and frightened into a most unbecoming loss of
dignity.
Eagle arrows can be used for lofty flights, to span great canyons, to
rout the chattering bluejay from the topmost limb of a pine, and sooner
or later we shall pierce an eagle on the wing.
We make another kind of shaft that we call a "floo-floo." In Thompson's
_Witchery of Archery_ he describes an arrow that his Indian companion
used, which gave forth such a fluttering whistle when in flight that
they called it by this euphonious name. This is made by constructing
the usual blunt screw-headed shaft and fledging it with wide uncut
feathers. It is useful in shooting small game in the brush, because its
flight is impeded and, missing the game, it soon loses momentum and
stops. It does not bound off into the next county, but can be found
near by. As a rule, these are steady, straight fliers for a short
distance.
In finishing the nock of an arrow, it should be filed so that it fits
the string rather snugly, thus when in place it is not easily disturbed
by the ordinary accidents of travel. Still this tightness should be at
the entrance of the nock, while the bottom of the nock is made a trifle
more roomy with a round file. I file all my nocks to fit a certain
two-inch wire nail whose diameter is just that of my bowstring.
After arrows have been shot for a time and their feathers have settled,
they should again be trimmed carefully to their final proportions. The
heads, if found too broad for perfect flight, should be ground a trifle
narrower.
When hunting, one does well to carry in his pocket a small flat file
with which to sharpen his broad-heads before shooting them. They should
have a serrated, meat-cutting edge. Even carrying arrows in a quiver
tends to dull them, because they chafe each other while in motion. From
time to time you should rub the shafts and heads with the mixture of
cedar and linseed oil, thus keeping them clean and protected from
dampness.
On a hunting trip an archer should carry with him in his repair kit,
extra feathers, heads, cement, a tube of glue, ribonzine, linen thread,
wax, paraffin, sandpaper, emery cloth, pincers, file and small
scissors. With these he can salvage many an arrow that otherwise would
be too sick to shoot.
Extra arrows are carried in a light wooden box which has little
superimposed racks on which they rest and are kept from crushing each
other.
As a rule, nothing does an arrow so much good as to shoot it, and
nothing so much harm as to have it lie inactive and crowded in the
quiver.
The flight of an arrow is symbolic of life itself. It springs from the
bow with high aim, flies toward the blue heaven above, and seems to
have immortal power. The song of its life is sweet to the ear. The rush
of its upward arc is a promise of perpetual progress. With perfect
grace it sweeps onward, though less aspiring. Then fluttering
imperceptibly, it points downward and with ever-increasing speed,
approaches the earth, where, with a deep sigh, it sinks in the soil,
quivers with spent energy, and capitulates to the inevitable.
VII
ARCHERY EQUIPMENT