The Passing of a Bowhunting Pioneer - J. Rob Davis

I was at the dinner table yesterday evening when I got the phone call from Robbie Davis informing me that his father had passed away.  The fact that this was just a few days from Father’s Day weekend was especially impactful to me.  I was in the process of planning a trip to visit my father in Delaware and this was to be my first Father’s Day as well. 

 

Bowhunters know more than anyone that death is a part of the circle of life.  Life cannot exist without death.  There is no life that is not responsible for the death of numerous other lives.  This is a fact that most in the “modern” age do not want to admit or realize.  We are so removed from the natural world.   Bowhunters are intertwined with the circle and becasuse of the limitations of our close range weapons, we are intimate with death…and therefor also intimate with life.   We are keenly aware of the fragility of our beings, and reminded of this each time we take an animal.  I would argue this makes the thoughtful hunter the most reverent and respectful individual with regards to the value of life. 

 

The woods this time of year are now alive with renewed life.  This past week from my wooded home I have observed a newly born fawn happily running circles around mom.  I spied a clutch of newly hatched downy turkey poults struggling to keep their heads above my lawn and discover the next blade of grass or insect ahead of them. All the while under the watchful eye of their mother hen.  My stroll around the porch flushes out several house wrens that have taken up nesting behind my shutters. Carrying my infant son, head on a swivel watching the motions and sounds, I realize that life is being renewed all on levels.  Therefore life is also ending somewhere in balance.

 

Life and death….it is the way and the law of the world.  It is the truth that cannot be escaped.

 

It is fitting that this is the time of year of my friends passing.  A man who has spent his lifetime and passion intertwined in this circular struggle.  This religion we call bowhunting.  Perhaps it is the very fact that we have to be skilled, determined, patient, steadfast, and relentless in this pursuit that leads to the fact that so many of those that choose to hunt with the limitations of what Mr. Davis would bluntly consider, “A real bow” are some of the most respectful and honorable men I have met. 

 

I will not go into the details here of Mr. Davis’s long and storied accomplishments with the bow and arrow.  All this can be found if one searches in our modern informational world.  However, I will recount the fact that this past fall……with a failing body that allowed him only to pursue game from a motorized cart…..Mr. Davis continued to be successful with the bow and arrow. 

 

Mr. Davis did what he loved and lived a long and successful life.  Here is a snippet from his last letter to me:

 

“I’m glad your so involved with bowhunting that you ventured out, no matter the restrictions- I sure miss the ability of “walking about”; checking that patch of woods or following a trail or whatever looks interesting.  My GC (golf cart) is really amazing and satisfies some of my desires.  I’m not complaining for I do realize that not many people have been able to “have done that” for as long as I have.”

 

His last bit of advice, “Enjoy your life”.

 

Mr. Davis has now gone on before us to tell his tales beside the archery greats and legends around the eternal campfire in the heavens.  It was an honor to know you Mr. Davis.

To Go Again
by John Shulz

I think I'd like to go again
To life that now has passed
With some old friends
To days that didn't last-

To once more hear the bay of hounds
While canyons deep send back the sound
And like the echo of that song
Fade into stillness- and then be gone-

To smell the salt of horse's sweat
(From ropin' calves) their bodies wet
Then go- tie one on the ground
And hope that I just won the round-

To wander through sweet rows of hay
And feel the sunshine of the day
Know that when it's put away
All dry and safe- let come what may-

Lone in some forest streaked with light
See "Mosshorn" stand - no sign of fright
My arrow sent from full drawn bow
True to the spot - it must needs go-

To go again by campfire bright
With lantern's soft dim glow
Retell those tales into the night
In voices hushed and low-

To go again to some filled hall
Then hear us preachers- one and all
Lift up God's Christ
And sound the Gospel call-

To go again when children- not yet grown
Were in their joy and play
Then all of life was only "home"
But now- they're gone away-

To go again? It cannot be
Except it is in memory
So then- I'll only look ahead
Not live the past- long dead-

No more of earth- my need to be
Of hollow things and vanity
But there together ever be
With Jesus Christ- Eternity-