May 25 • General discussion
My Traditional Bowhunter’s Creed (A Poem)
My Traditional Bowhunter’s Creed(A Poem)
I walk the woods with bow in hand,No sights to guide, no gear so grand.Just string and limb and steady breath—A hunter’s path, a quiet death.
I do not seek the easy way,I earn each step, I stalk, I stay.My arrows fly where practice shows,And every miss is how one grows.
No buttons beep, no gadgets gleam,Just instinct, feel, and forest dream.I know the wind, I read the track,The bow I carry takes me back.
To older times when skill was king,When hunters felt the earth in spring.When every shot was close and true,And every kill, a job to do.
I take no aim I shouldn’t take,No careless shot for ego’s sake.The deer, the elk—they earn my grace,They feed my soul, they fill this place.
The woods don’t lie, they test me straight,They teach me patience, make me wait.But when it’s right, and arrows fly,It’s man and beast and open sky.
I hunt the hard way, proud and free,No sights, no crutch—just bow and me.And in that silence, wild and deep,I find the promises I keep.
~ B. Graves
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My Traditional Bowhunter’s Creed (A Poem)
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