On archery and the Amish

Yesterday, it all started with a strange smell coming from my hunting closet.

It ended with a new bow.

See, I’ve been doing some bow shooting for the last few days, tuning myself up on my Hoyt Vortec target bow for some archery groundhog hunting with my cousin. I decided to shoot my hunting bow some, too, to get a workout with the higher poundage. Aha! Found the smell…a mouse nest and two dead mice in my soft bow case. One of the mice appeared newly dead and the other was somewhat desiccated…of course, I haven’t touched the bow since early January.

The stink from the dead mice was bad enough, but I also noticed they had chewed nearly entirely through the string on my 70-pound Hoyt Vortec. There was one strand of bow string between that bow and the *sproing!* of disaster. A quick trip to the bow shop was in order.

I looked first for the bow shop in Burton, across the street from The Gunrunner gun store. The bow shop was no longer there, but since I was already parked and in town, I decided a trip to The Gunrunner was in order. Holy crap! That store is filled to the breaking point with guns, 300 or more of which will be sold through an internet auction beginning April 20. I found a couple that would like to find a home in one of the Rantmeister’s gun safes.

But no bow string. I remembered there’s another Hoyt dealer five or six miles away in Middlefield, a strongly Amish community, so I jumped in the truck and headed there. I soon had another bowstring, complete with re-installed peep sight and string loop.

While waiting for the store to install the new string, I browsed through the store…mentally adding to my list of “must-haves” for the upcoming hunting season. I also watched the Amish customers milling around in the aisles and was struck by the huge contrast between their appearance and shopping habits. They’re Amish, right, preferring to do things the simple, old ways? Well, not these guys. They were shopping for laser rangefinders, handheld GPS systems and cutting-edge compound bows…not the gorgeous traditional stick bows in stock.

There must have been a dozen Amish boys and men passing some time in the relatively small store…it was Friday, go to town day, after all, and the women were buying groceries and supplies. I’m always struck by the apparent contradictions in the Amish lifestyle: they eschew cars, but will hire people to drive them; won’t use electricity, but will use a battery; won’t have electric power tools, but will use a gasoline engine to power an air compressor to run air tools; and they will use electrically-powered tools at a job away from home. It seems to me they follow a system of convenient anachronism…they use elaborate adaptations at home to ensure comfort and interpret their religion generously when they must interact outside their community. It’s a charade carried out for some unknown benefit.

Anyway, back to the store…the compound bows…and my undoing.

I turned the corner from one aisle into the next, a blazing shaft of sunlight from Heaven came down and illuminated the only Hoyt Trykon XL in the store, which just happened to be in my draw length and the poundage I desired. After bowing and genuflecting at the altar of this gift from the heavens…this Hammer of Thor…this pinnacle of archery innovation (you get the picture)…I carried it to the counter in a daze and passed over my debit card still shrouded in wonder.

The Amish folks went about their business, unaware of the near-religious spectacle taking place with yards of them.

It was their loss. Of course, the probable reason that there was only one Trykon XL in the entire store is those Amish men have already purchased theirs and are simply waiting for the infra-red terrain mapping sight package to come in. Their lifestyle may look primitive, but the boys still have to have their toys.