For the past several months I have been reading articles and Trad Bowhunter Mag, Trad gang stuff, and even older compound stuff as well....it makes no difference what weapon, trad or compound, I realize that I was born about 25 yrs too late. Let me elaborate. I was born in 1975, that makes me almost 34 yrs old. After reading articles about the guys who bowhunted in the 70's and 80's beit trad or compound, I realize I missed the "golden age" of bowhunting. I started bowhunting in 1990 and it was different from now, but still part of the " new age" of bowhunting. There are way more deer now than there was then in 70's and 80's, and one would think this is the "golden age", but after researching and reading articles about those days, I do believe in fact, we have passed the golden age of bowhunting. Why do I say this? Well it didn't seem to be such a rat race back then. Bowhunters were sort of odd to most people. And it was a fraternity of a sort. now, it's not so much that way it seems. This is my opinion, you may feel differently, so let me know what you guys think.
VA, You hit the nail on the head, there wasnt even close as many Deer as there is today, nowhere near. You had the woods all to yourself and when someone scored, it made the newspaper because it was a big deal that didnt happen to often. you could have a piece of it as Jeff is right now using Trad gear and it would be still be fun. Im still planing on getting my old recurve back out and using it early season, and practiced with it last summer. Im still in love with the compound though!! and it will rein supreme for me now days. Try it, it is a different ball game and just have fun with it.
I don't feel like I missed out on anything. I have no ambition to go back to the time where deer were almost non existent in MN. I would rather have a decent chance to actually see some animals. Sure, a lot more people bowhunt now but what is wrong with that? I think it's a good thing. Bowhunters (especially those who are able to do it successfully) are still the minority by a long shot in comparison to gun hunters in my State.
It's not that I mind other bowhunters...this is not what i mean. Im talking about the novelty of it all back then..Bowhunting for the white man in the Americas is a fairly new thing in comparison to the Natives that have been doing it here for over 30,000 yrs. Im talking about the adventures of just simply bowhunting deer in your backyard. think about the 60' and 70's as a bowhunter here you did not know what to expect. Now, there are so many deer that we expect to see em every sit and expect to see at least one solid buck a season, this includes me. Im not saying that I would want to go back to the days where there were few deer, I love seeing lots of deer, but there must have been something special about those days...Just read some stories from Barry Wensel and many others when they talk about how they used to do it and stories about how they got funny looks at deeer camps when they unloaded their bows. I would love to hear a story from anyone on here that was there in those days...tell us a story from camp or from a hunt form the Golden Days. Something like this: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Weekend With Schaf by Barry Wensel Weekends never seem to be long enough when hunting with good friends. Actually, this story takes in a long weekend; a Thursday through Sunday bowhunt with my good friend Paul Schafer. At the time it didn’t seem like anything special. The fact we take this sort of stuff for granted bothers me. We need to be thankful for every moment spent with special friends or relatives because nothing is forever. We all need to remember that simple fact more often. Looking at the calendar of life, I realize it has now been fourteen years since my friend was tragically killed in a skiing accident. It happened on a Monday, January 18, 1993. Just hours after the accident, Steve Carlson, another friend who happened to be on the ambulance crew that day, called to break the bad news to me. Fourteen years. Unbelievable! In that time, the name Paul Schafer has become a legend in traditional bow hunting circles just as I knew it would. When stories are told over and over around different campfires, facts sometimes get distorted through different storytellers imaginations. In reality, most legends are what they are and who they are because their reputations were built on truth. If Paul were alive today to read and hear some of the stories told about himself I honestly think he’d laugh. He’d laugh and be a little bit embarrassed at the attention he’s been given. Not because of any untruths, but because people were talking about him. In his own mind, Paul didn’t think he was anything special. He told me that. He also told me he thought he was a “decent” bowhunter but he thought I was a better whitetail hunter. Ha! That’s like Jack Nicklaus telling me he’s a decent golfer but I have a prettier swing. I laughed until I peed my pants on that one. I don’t intend for this piece to exaggerate the legend of Paul Schafer. I just want to share what a typical hunt with Paul was like. I hope it gives readers a better understanding of what made Paul, the man, tick. I’ll purposely be lengthy in order to better describe each circumstance and bring the entire weekend hunt together as I remember it. But please forgive me on some of the minor details as we’re talking twenty plus years ago. And my memory isn’t so hot anymore. Paul called me one evening to tell me a rancher friend of his on the Sun River west of Great Falls, Montana wanted us to thin out some deer for management purposes. I don’t recall the year, but I’d guess it was maybe 1984. Back then there were multiple either-sex, either-species (whitetail or mule deer) tags available for various areas. It was the end of November. I had a bunch of deer tags in my pocket. Schaf wrecked his Ford Bronco the week before. He swerved to avoid hitting a deer, rolled the rig and totaled it. I kidded him about needing a ride that weekend. Wednesday evening I pulled into Schaf’s driveway. We planned to mak
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