Dirty hands make for a stronger heart. I just made that up. Well, I didn’t really make it up per se, but a lifetime intentionally maximizing my adventures in wild places certainly has provided me a wealth of real estate under my fingernails, and the resultant dirt factor in my life has clearly increased my quality of life and happiness. Hence, my stronger heart. It is an inescapable forgone conclusion.

I am not claiming to be no Davy Crocket or Sitting Bull by any stretch of the imagination, but for a Detroit guitar player born in the firestorm of the Industrial Revolution smack dab in the middle of the Motorcity “Arsenal of Democracy” in 1948, that I have accomplished a phenomenal balance twixt the modern gonzo metropolitan electronic concrete hell rock-n-roll hand to hand combat zone juxtaposed with the timeless primal goo of the world’s swamps, forests, lakes, rivers, marshes, deserts, jungles, mountains, farmlands, and tundra as an actual participant in nature, I figure my Down To Earth quota is substantial if not downright lifesaving.

I perform my we the people hellraizing duties each and every day, complete my ranch chores and unleash a series of dangerous freedom celebrating guitarlicks, then I immediately head for the bow and arrow mancave arsenal and carefully and cautiously move stealthily into the Zen of aboriginal territory where the subconscious guides me from the physical world into the spiritual zone.

It is then and there that the world is all good.

I was able to share again today on social media more of the never-ending lessons available to the critical thinkers amongst us as I switched from my old Fred Bear recurve bows back and forth with my state of the art Mathews compound bow on the range.

So many current bowhunters in America were introduced to the mystical flight of the arrow straight into the modern compound bow world, and there is nothing wrong with that at all.

Some of the most deadly and proficient bowhunters on earth have never touched a recurve or longbow and they have found a genuine love affair with these fascinating mechanical devices that still provide a pure archery high.

But to the man and woman whom I have convinced to go old school, once they discover that wonderful instinctual hand-eye coordination of original oneness with the simple bow and arrow, their accuracy and comfort level with compound bows goes through the ceiling.

There is something about the natural extension of old traditional bows that force us to discover our inner, natural point of aim, not unlike the skill developed with a baseball or football after extended, dedicated practice.

Shooting an old-fashioned bow instinctively with no sights at close range literally brings out an inner Samurai focus that when applied to a modern compound bow with sight-pins, peep-site and mechanical release aid, will dramatically improve our imprinted shot sequence and overall accuracy.

I for one make it a point throughout the year to shoot my old Bear recurves often, and the apparent improved accuracy with my Mathews is extremely gratifying.

Go ahead, be Ishi, be Cochise, be Sitting Bull, be Fred Bear! Get down to earth! Get that graceful, lightweight, effortlessly drawn bare bow and make every arrow THE arrow, then watch your compound killing range increase post haste.