"People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war, or before an election."  Well, after today, I'd like to add "and at 3D archery shoots" to this quote. It's a good thing we were wearing boots on the archery course today, not for the 1.5" of rain that came down at 8 am, but for the tall tales and smack talk that were piling up in the woods just east of Bushnell.
     I thought it was going to be just my friend/archery coach with me on the course at Seven Hills, which was fine since he had been "too busy" to shoot since March and I was looking forward to putting him in his place with all my practicing. I was pleasantly surprised when we pulled up and noticed two slightly damp guys from the bow shop waiting out the rainstorm in their cars. With our duo expanded to a quartet, we started slip-sliding our way on the trail to target #1, starting out just as polite and serious as you please on a soggy Sunday morning.
     It didn't take long for the day to unravel. Without our serious archery friend, who was at a competitive shoot in Alabama, our game faces dissolved into teenage hijinks and the shoot took a sharp left-hand turn in the maturity department. Not only did you need to be wary of the slick footing and mindful of your ranged targets, but you had to watch your back for the repeated tree shakings that would send a cascade of rain down your neck if you weren't paying attention. Target #2 brought the first miss of the morning (not mine, thank goodness), which we harped on for at least the next five stations. There was mocking, rain shaming, finger pointing, gear bashing...you name it, we flung it. And we all loved every minute of it.
     By station #14, we started upping the ante with trick shots, tossing out the traditional 12-10-8-5 ring scoring and opting for the all-or-nothing approach of "hit the bear's tail" and other minuscule parts of the target that would make serious archers frown. By station #25, we invented a new sport, Hot Yoga Archery, which had us sweating and doing 180 degree turns while standing on one foot to take shots from 30, 40, and 50 yards. Station #30 had us taking blind shots through the weeds, balancing on elevated platform railings, and shooting between stairs that were never meant for arrows to pass through. Top that off with running through mud puddles like salamanders and repeated "do overs" from one of our group members (again, not me), and we had the collective maturity of a group of 7th grade boys. And I couldn't have had more fun.
     After the shoot, we sat around, sharing hunting stories and photos, making plans for a private shoot with our pooled 3D target resources. One guy has fishing kayaks on Spring Lake, another has a pool, pond, and puppies. The third hunts in Arizona and offered to take us all scouting for Mulies that would put our Illinois whitetails to shame. I offered my pastry expertise in exchange for some wild blackberries, which are just now ripe and will be perfect in a cobbler. What can I say, I like to bake (zucchini bread was the treat du jour for the range operators today) and have limited other marketable skills. As we parted ways, two for home and two of us back to the course,  we exchanged phone numbers and promised to meet up again this summer, and I couldn't help but think it was the best day of group shooting so far, hands down.
     I should have quit while I was ahead. Trip #2 on the course gave me a whiff on a target and a glorious slip in the mud that left me facedown on the trail, bow in hand but unharmed. Thank goodness it only happened in front of one guy, because the ribbing from the whole group would have done me in. But I ended the day without any lost or broken arrows (the only one to do so, I might add), and my score was still good enough to beat my buddy.  In the end, that's all that really matters. 

     Sometimes, all it takes is the reassuring thunk of an arrow in foam to make your day, regardless of if the shot was a 12-point ringer or a 5-point "participation ribbon" body shot. I have to be honest, people: I don't fail well, and I CERTAINLY don't fail well publicly. I prefer to make my mistakes in the quiet of my backyard rather than in front of others, and last Sunday I had to risk the certain doom of having strangers watch me stink it up at Seven Hills.
     I knew this could be an issue when I got a Facebook message from an archery friend. One simple line, "shooting at 7 Hills this Sunday at 8 if you are interested," brought both excitement (YES! CONTACT WITH OTHER HUMANS!) and dread (NO! I'M AN INCONSISTENT HOT MESS ON THE COURSE!).  But I'm not one to turn down a friendly offer, and I hadn't seen my archery buddy in a while, so I hit the road at 7:30 am to see how I would do.
     Things were looking pretty good as I pulled in. One club organizer had paid my entry fee in return for doing some soil testing, and I was toting a batch of homemade cheesecake for the guys running the course. Yes, it was already 82 degrees with a humidity level only seen in a sauna, but that's what everyone expects of a west central Illinois summer. However, I took a quick one-two punch to my confidence as I turned around: I was the last one of my group to arrive to shoot, and my group was far larger than I expected. Strangers were going to see me ride the struggle bus. Gulp.
     Two of the guys were regulars in the bow shop, but three others were new faces. After a quick round of introductions, we set off for the first target. I would love to say that my Bowtech and I performed flawlessly, but I believe the phrase "fair to middling" summed it up better. Aside from the occasional urge to puke a little and the fear that I had sweat through my shirt before we reached target #3, I managed to hit all the targets, even the moving bear that I had previously skipped because, honestly, I hadn't figured out how to run the damn thing by myself.
     I'm happy to report that I survived all thirty targets with no misses, and came away with some good tips:

1. I need more practice shooting uphill.
2. I need to actually study where the point rings are on the targets rather than guess.
3. I need to bring not just the rangefinder, but binoculars on the course (and all the cool kids call them "binos.")
4. I need to invest in a hip quiver. Immediately.
5. Even manly men look good with flowers behind their ears...unless they are poison parsnips.

I hope I get to shoot with the same group next month, and until then, I'll work on calming those nerves and picking a new recipe to share with my buddies, because I may not have a perfect shot every time, but I can make a mean pie, and that's almost as good.

     For most people, the arrival of summer means cookouts, vacations, and gardening. For me, it means a break from the never-ending struggle of not being able to have my bow at my home. As a teacher, schools tend to frown on having weapons in vehicles, and my school is 30 minutes away from my home, but only 10 minutes away from the bow shop. To solve the problem, a friend of mine was gracious enough to let me keep my bow and targets at his place throughout the school year to save me miles on my car. Summer vacation started two days ago, and with the settling of my bow in its 3-month resting place, I set out Jake in the yard tonight for my first at-home practice.
   To be honest, I've neglected my shooting a little bit over the past two weeks. And by a little bit, I mean completely. I went to the bow shop one evening with all intentions of practicing, but it turned into social hour instead. Whoops. All the excitement of fishing, learning to fillet (finally!), and attempted crawdad trapping has pushed practice to the back burner, but that stops today. Oh, and having a WORKING rangefinder should make things go a little easier in a new practice spot--thanks, Amazon! If I'm going to sign up for any ASA competitions this summer, I have to get serious about shooting.
     I set Jake up in the backyard, with a small berm of soil at his back to catch any errant arrows that don't find home. Thank goodness for that backstop, because looming directly behind my target are two grain bins, just poised to blow up any arrow I send too far out of the way.  I live in the middle of prairie country, so the wind was a new factor to contend with, but I'll chalk up the frustration to good real-life field practice.  Drawing back felt so good, and hearing the thunk of field tips sinking into foam at 20, 30, and 40 yards complimented the sounds of birds in the trees at my back. It's not quite as pretty of a practice site as at my friend's house, but it will do in a pinch and is right out my back door.
     One side perk of shooting at home is that I got to give my first lesson. My husband, who is not a hunter, wanted to give shooting a try, so I gamely walked him through the steps and tried to adjust him as best as I could considering I was teaching someone to shoot on a bow that was at least 4" too short in the draw length department (not to mention the out-of-proportion peep sight and release). We had success, and he has a new appreciation for how difficult using a bow really is. After a 45-minute practice, I relished the short walk to the house over the 15 mile car ride and started eyeballing the second-story bedroom window as a potential way to practice adjusting shots for altitude. I think I need more targets!

     You can only fly solo for so long before you need a sidekick, and my Sunday Funday buddy was my sister as we hit the trails at Seven Hills Archery for some outdoor 3D shooting. The bow shop guys had been waiting on me, apparently, because we took some gentle ribbing when we signed in that they were worried we weren't coming. I may have cut it a little close managing my time to get there--whoops!
     Seven Hills is an outdoor archery club outside Bushnell, Illinois, with monthly shoots open to the public. I stumbled across them during my winter indoor league and gave it a try on opening weekend in April. A range finder is a must as you travel a 30-target course, varying in elevation, terrain, and species to shoot. My personal favorite is a bear, suspended on a track, that swings at you as you shoot, but the over-the-creek shot at stop #30 is pretty sweet, too. My nemesis is the badger, usually at stop #9--that little jerk's 10-ring is the size of a penny.
     We could not have asked for a better day, with birds chirping and the sun shining just enough to be beautiful without sweating. Sammy kept score (and kept me honest) through the course and even took a few photos. Her favorite part is the Dairy Queen stop at the end, but after shooting a 209, I was pretty happy as well. The only fly in the ointment was my fickle rangefinder, which works about 40% of the time on a good day. Thank goodness I have Amazon Prime--someone just ordered herself a new Bushnell as a graduation gift.