The Hardware Store Archer

Calmly slowing and timing my breathing, I pull back, feeling the tension rip through my arms and shoulders; I release. The arrow flies true, but my aim isn’t quite content with hitting the target. My arrow flies by, smashing into a rock in the hill behind my target. A hill so that I don’t accidentally maim a passing hiker or dog. My arrow is destroyed. Thankfully, I’ve taken to building my own arrows for target practice and hunting. It’s both meticulous and meditative; and given the number of arrows I break, I make a lot of them.

I first got into traditional archery to the dismay of my parents at a young age. When I was eight years old, The Fellowship of the Ring came to theaters; I was in awe both by the beauty and skill of the craft as shown by Legolas and the other archers of the film. Soon after, in full nerd-fashion, I had bought myself a copy of “The Bowyer’s Bible”, and began my dive into learning everything there was to learn about bows, arrows, and how to make them yourself. At the time, however, I was far too impatient to succeed. Making bows and arrows takes a remarkable amount of patience; quick work is not rewarded. As a result, I made many a broken bow and arrow as a young child. Now, as an adult, I can enjoy the calm and slow nature of slowly working away at a piece of wood.

As for the actual construction of arrows, when I’m feeling particularly ambitious, I’ll head into the forest to find the perfect tree: 7-12” diameter birch or ash with immaculate grain. Usually finding such a tree takes a few kilometers of bushwhacking and looking at trees the way most people look at their new painting or macramé. Once I find the ideal tree, I’ll saw it down by hand and carry back a 30-35” section of log that I let dry before splitting into arrow shafts that I’ll then need to shave down by hand until they’re perfectly straight and round.

Usually, however, I take the easy route. I’ll buy dowels from hardware stores in bulk, and in this age of Covid-19 and curbside pickup, I’ll kindly ask the person taking my order to only give me the straightest dowels with no grain run-out. I’d say most of the time I get nice straight dowels, but realistically, they need to be straightened no matter how good their selection. For this I typically run a hard object down the length of the bow in the wood, compressing it, and allowing it to equalize to a straight shape. For the really tough ones, I’ll use a blow-torch and oil on the side that’s in the direction of the curve, hoping that the heat helps the wood expand into a straight shape.

Once I have a straight shaft I’m happy; I’ve done the hardest part. Now, I cut a self-nock into the dowel perpendicular to the grain. Perpendicular so the massive force of the bowstring at a heavy draw won’t split the arrow and impale my hand. It hasn’t happened yet, but reading horror stories online sure makes you cautious.

Once the nocks are in, I cut off some fine thread and lash the shaft to further prevent it from splitting. Then, I take out my trusty glue and scissors to add the fletching. After prepping the feathers with a razor, I’ll glue them carefully to the shaft in a slight spiral to add spin and stability to the arrow. Now that all the feathers are glued, I’ll take my scissors and cut the feathers to the ideal shape. While turkey feathers are ideal for fletching arrows, they can be quite inconsistent so I trim them down

Now that the arrow is straightened, fletched, and nocked, I taper the end with a mini-handplane or knife and glue an arrowhead to the tip. For hunting, I’ll throw on a menacing looking broad-head that is wide, sharp, and ideal for causing damage. For target shooting, I’ll glue on a field point, which really just prevents the arrow from exploding when it hits something.

Before finally getting out into the field and enjoying the satisfaction of shooting homemade arrows, I rub the arrow shaft with a mix of beeswax and coconut oil to make the arrows water-resistant and thus less likely to warp and shoot twenty feet off the mark.

Hours pass and I wait for the glue to dry; it’s time. I venture out, walking through town looking like an eccentric holding an unstrung bow and a full leather quiver of arrows. My parents both joke that I look like a time traveler, wandering the streets with weapons from many a century prior. They also joke that I’m busy building myself an armory, which is only partially true. Really, I try to convince them that I'm only doing this to save myself money as opposed to stocking Helms Deep.

Arriving at my target practice spot, there’s nothing but silence and the odd chirp of a bird. Pulling back in perfect tension, I take my shot and smile as I see my new arrow flying straight to its target.