July / August 2010

EDITORIAL
The financial year has come and gone so hopefully some of you got a nice little pressie from the ATO to spend on some new gear. Mine is going towards my trip to Colorado in September and will pay for my Elk tag. I was also lucky enough to score a black bear tag for the unit we will be hunting. Hopefully the bears will not decide to try and hunt me. Should be ok though as I reckon I can run faster than my hunting mate anyway LOL . Got a busy few weeks coming up with Rod Jenkins arriving from the USA to run two clinics down here in Victoria. We have had a good response with the first weekend fully booked and only one spot left for the following weekend. Ben will be taking Rod out chasing sambar in-between the two clinics so hopefully he will have some success. Look for a full report on the clinics in the September/October issue of the magazine. We have had a great response in the way of articles for this issue but I am still having to push pretty hard to get hunting article in for each issue. If you have any hunting stories, old or new, with or without a kill please dont hesitate to send them in. The more I get the bigger and better I can make the magazine. How to articles and reviews are also welcome and will be utilized. I would also love to get pictures that can be used for a Bowhunters showcase. As you would have read in the May/June editorial the magazine will be going to a paid download next year which will be $20.00AUS per year. I asked that people contact me with their thoughts on this and have so far received some very positive feedback from not only here in Australia but from the USA, New Zealand and even South Africa. I would still like to hear from anyone else and encourage you to contact me via email at editor@stikbowhunter or via mobile 0401292311 Well that about does it for me for this issue. The next editorial you will see will be after I get back from Colorado.

Till then happy hunting and shoot straight.

Matt
Freelance Contributions - Email submissions to the Editor, editor@stikbowhunter.com. Submissions must be in word format and be accompanied by high quality Jpeg photos (usually 3000 pixels wide/high or larger are sufficient). Alternatively, send files on a CD or Flash drive to; Matt Curry, 6 Clarendon drive, Melton South, Victoria, Australia 3338. Include your postal address if you would like it returned.

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CONTENTS

Page.
3 8 12 21 24

Content.
Bowhunting Adventure: Outback Buff The Australian Recurve and Longbow Muster Bowhunting Adventure: Mildura Bound Bowhunting Adventure: Swerve to the Curve Bowhunting Adventure: Down Texas Way Marty Thomas Wayne Hinton Luke Morgan Neal Dowsett Wayne Hinton

Regular Departments
16 29

How To: Feather Splicing Bow Review: Check-Mate Bow Blank

Matt Curry Pete Ward

Cover Photo: Luke Morgan Location: Mildura Photographer: Matt Curry

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Marty Thomas and Mark Johnson travel over from Texas USA to the top end to hunt Buffalo with Mick Baker of Trophy Bowhunts Australia.
It is far to Australia. I figured I should get that part out of the way up front. Two hours from Longview Texas to Atlanta, a four hour layover, then seventeen hours across the ocean. With the first part of our trip behind us, we flew another two and a half hours on to MacArthur River where we were picked up by Mick Baker, owner and operator of Trophy Bowhunts Australia. The last leg of our journey was a one hundred and fifty kilometer ride down a one lane tar road that turned into dirt after twenty miles or so. The last ten miles into camp was on a two track through the high grass. Dropping over the river bank we were greeted by a sweet camp. Open cots cover with mosquito nets overlooking the Limon Bite River, just below a water fall. It was a great setup and about as far away from civilization as you could ever hope for. Growing up in East Texas I never really worried

By Marty Thomas

about getting lost. No matter how far back into the bugger woods you thought you were, if you set still for a little while you would hear cars off in the distance and be able to walk out to a road. That would not have helped much here. In my week there I never even saw a plane fly over.

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My close friend and running buddy Mark Johnson was with me on this trip. Mark has a way of making everything funny so I knew before we started I was in for a fun week. Marks guide for the week was a young African named Andy Ivy and as soon as the gear was stowed the four of us broke out the bows and went to playing. That is one of the great things about hunting with traditional equipment; four grown men can pass away an afternoon if you just give them a coke can and a dirt bank.

We were after Water Buffalo and Scrub Bulls. The plan was to skirt the open flood plains hoping to spot a good Buff. Then follow him in hopes he would eventually wander into a place with enough cover to put a stalk on. The first morning was a blast. I had two different stalks that ended up with me within thirty yards of buffalo only to have things fall apart at the last minute. Any doubts I had about it being impossible were erased when I returned to camp. Mark had killed a dandy one on the very first stalk. That afternoon Mick and I crossed the river to hunt a new area. We had not gone far when we spotted a good buff feeding straight away from us. We slipped into about one hundred and fifty yards in a hurry. Every time the buff stopped to feed we would gain ground on him, only to give it back when he picked his head up and walked on through the plain. We had been following him for a half hour when he dropped over the bank of the river. Mick whispered This is our chance and took off in a trot. We figured the buffalo would be straight down the bank drinking.

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When I eased up over the bank I was surprised to find the buffalo nowhere in sight. It was as if he had flown away. I was scanning the opposite bank with my binoculars when I heard a swirling sound from the river. The buffalo surfaced down the river fifty yards away. With just his head showing above the water, he leisurely strolled down the center of the river, stopping from time to time to dunk his head. After the initial shock wore off I took after him. Every time he dunked his head I would run down the bank and set up for a shot only to have him surface out of range or at a bad angle. After a couple of hundred yards of this I took a chance and ran past where I thought he would surface. Between the excitement and the running, both of them hard on old people, my heart was about to jump out of my chest. I felt the muscles in my back begin to bunch up as I watched him surface 20 yards away facing me. He slowly made his way past me but his chest was just out of sight in the water. At twenty yards past me he turned to start back up stream when his chest suddenly appeared above the water line. In an instant the arrow was buried into his chest to the feathers. The whole world stopped. The buffalo slowly turned his head away from me then back. I dont think he even knew he was shot. He had no doubt heard the loud crack when the arrow hit him but that was it. Between the swishing in the water and the super quite bow he didnt have a clue what happened. After a tense couple of minutes he spotted me above him and went crashing up the other bank. I dont even remember reaching for another arrow but as he cleared the other bank I hit him again. He made it about two hundred yards before giving up.

When we walked up to him I was amazed at the size. He was way bigger than the Cape buffalo I had killed last year. I would guess he was easily over a ton. The next day was a learning experience for me. As I blew half a dozen stalks. I did have some excitement. I used a tree to block the sight of a great bull, close to 100 inches. After crawling up to the tree, I was within ten yards of him but the way he was laying; his massive shoulder blocked the shot. After a few minutes, he figured out something wasnt right and leaped up dashing thirty yards before I could raise my bow. He spun back around facing me and it was touch and go whether he was going to run away or over me. I finally decided to let me go and marched off with his head turned sideways, showing off his horns.

The next day I preformed much better. The stalk took over an hour as the only cover available was the waist high grass. I was able to get within twenty yards of him. He never knew I was in the world until the arrow smacked him. That afternoon I had the most exciting stalk of my life. We spotted a good buff traveling with three smaller ones. We followed them for an hour or so before they lay down to chew their cud. The grass was only knee high and I had to lay completely down and slid my bow in front of me. The hair was standing up on my neck as I crawled within ten yards across the front of one of the smaller bulls, trying to get in position for a shot on the big boy. Luck was on my side as the smaller bull was sleepy and would close his eyes for a few minutes before perking up to look around again. Every time his eyes slipped

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closed I would slide forward on my belly until I was able to get within fifteen yards of the bull I wanted. It was quite a rush when the four bulls rose up out of the grass after my shot and milled around me before heading for the river bed.

ments I will carry with me forever. It is mine and no one can take it away from me.

My last bull was we believe the same one I spooked the second day. Mark was with us on the camera and we spotted the Buffalo close to camp out in the open flood plain. We cold trailed along behind him hoping he would lay down in the shade somewhere to avoid the mid day heat. After an hour or so he turned back towards us, we hit the ground. It was a stale mate. He stood in the shade facing us chewing his cud. We were trapped out in the open, lying in the grass slowly cooking in the Australian sun, not a cloud in the sky. It went from tense, to hot, to funny as the time slipped past. After a long hour and a half the bull started walking straight at us. We had no cover and the grass was only about knee high. I tried to bury myself deeper into the little grass we had. I wish I could explain the rush of emotions laying there as he slowly made his way to us. The hot sun on my back, my trusty Black Widow in my left hand, it was one of those moments we practice for. All the hours standing out in the back yard were for this, thousands of miles from home with a giant black beast making his way towards us I slipped into auto pilot as he passed forty yards away. Rising up on my knees and drawing my bow in one motion the world blurred over and the only thing in focus was a small clump of mud on his ribs. The string slipped away and I watched as the arrow arched above his back then dropped down into his chest with a solid crack. It was one of those mo-

It would be hard for me to say enough good things about Micks operation. He has the hunting rights to miles and miles of remote country. As a longbow hunter himself he under stands what it takes to get us in close for a sure shot. Australia is a great place to hunt as well. The country is beautiful with some of the coolest looking birds you will ever see. The Water buffalo are just made for bow hunting. While I had several during the week convinced me that they were not particularly afraid of me, they are a challenge to get within bow range. If they smell you or catch you moving they are gone. I had a few come back, head held high, staring down their nose at me. It is quite a rush to have a one ton beast stomping towards you as you lay in the grass trying to disappear. My setup for this adventure was a eighty three pound Black Widow iron wood recurve. I was using a duplex shaft that consisted of a Heritage 350 shaft with a Beman flash shaft inside. I had a 125 grain brass insert combined with a 210 grain German Kinetic head. The total weight was 980 grains. This setup proved very effective on the four buffalo during the week with all the arrows penetrating through the near side ribs and sticking in the off side ribs. Years ago Australia was a faraway place that most folks could never visit. Today it is just a matter of manning up and getting on the plane. For those who chose to make the trip, you are in for a treat. New lands, new friends and new critters to chase.

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Wayne Hinton travelled to Gladstone for the Australian Recurve and Longbow Muster

privilege to watch 10 excellent archers all shooting wooden bows and wooden arrows and there was some truly great shots witnessed. Congratulations to all who made the top ten. Well what can I say about this ever growing yearly all Traditional get together? The Gladstone Bowhunters Club has a rich history in bowhunting and especially in the last few years of becoming a strong influence in the Traditional archery scene. The longbow and Recurve muster has been held at their magnificent club grounds for around the last decade or so. There was an incredible 161 archers registered to shoot including many juniors which was a great sight to see. A format of 30 x 3-D targets a day, with a speed round both days and a Flu-flu shoot on the first day also made for some great shooting by all who took part. Good line ups in the knife and axe throwing made for some great spectating in this amazing passtime as well. One of my highlights of the weekend was the first day watching the Top Ten shootout. It was a The 3-D course had some great challenging targets like the running pigs, the cat in the log, the corrugated wall behind the dear and a life size camel with a beautiful set of lips by the way. These were just a few that come to mind and ones I will always remember. I must press the issue of the food. It was a true credit to all involved. The clubs ladys and gents who put it all together have to be congratulated for the tucker was simply ballistic.

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As all clubs know the difficulties in running such a large successful event often comes down to the volunteers on the day. I was amazed one night heading home to camp from the bar at about 9.00pm when the Gladdy members where still blowing balloons up on the practice range for the kids to shoot. Truly looking after the future of our sport.

A big thank you again to the committee, the sponsors, and the volunteers you have a wonderful get together of Traditional archers gathering for a great shoot. See you all next year. Happy Hunting Wayno

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Brought to you by Ben Maher and Stikbow Hunter.

Hello all I am really excited to announce Rod Jenkins, as seen in Masters of the Barebow Vol. 1,2 & 3 will be coming to Australia to run a couple of clinics in early August this year. Rod will be holding two clinics, the first on the 7th and 8th of August and the second on the 14th and 15th of August. The clinics will be held one hour outside of Melbourne in picturesque Daylesford Victoria and all food, accommodation, and Rod's coaching will be included in the cost. There will be both, a multi room share house and separate bunkroom style rooms available. There will also be access to other activities, including horse riding, golf, fishing and access to small game hunting only minutes away from the ranch. We will likely hold a rabbit hunt for those visitors interested. Other hunting opportunities can be arranged for those travelling from interstate and overseas. We are lucky to have Rod travelling out so be sure to take advantage of this special opportunity. PLACES ARE VERY LIMITED AND WE ALREADY HAVE BOOKINGS, SO IF INTERESTED PLEASE contact myself or Ben ASAP!!! Cost inc. coaching, accommodation and meals (aside from the Saturday night ... it'll be a pub meal for those interested).... will be $ 400.00

Any and all enquiries can be directed via email... benmaher3006@yahoo.com.au Or editor@stikbowhunter.com 0401292311

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Luke Morgan and friends head to Mildura for a few days action on the local wild goat population.

By Luke Morgan

It was time to go. Levels of game meat in the freezer had reached critical!! It was the Queens birthday long weekend coming up, so a trip was planned. We decided to steer clear of public land, as every man and his dog would be out and about this weekend, making stalking around with stick and string a less attractive proposition. Fortunately, I am lucky enough to know someone with exclusive access to 140,000 acres of prime goat and pig hunting property along the Murray River in NSW. Id hunted this property several times before, when I used to shoot compounds, but hadnt been there since converting to trad gear. I was really looking forward to getting out to the property as I new it would be a good opportunity for me to notch up a bit more trad experience on lager sized game, rather than rabbits and foxes, which I usually hunt for. I had missed the last few trips due to bad weather, and when the stork dropped off my second bundle of joy a week and a half before the trip was scheduled to go ahead. So for this trip I was determined not to let anything stop me. The weekend rolled around quickly enough, and after a few detours, we finally hit the road at 7am with our destination, 5 1/2 hours to the north. On arrival at the riverside campsite we all swung into action, unpacking the gear from the trailer and setting up our accommodation for the next 3 days. During this activity I noticed a bit of a throbbing in the base of my skull, which rapidly increased in severity, making bending over to put tent pegs into the ground incredibly painful. Desperately trying to get my tent up so I could have a bit of a lay down, I managed to get the inner tent pitched and the fly thrown over the top, when I was suddenly hit by a wave of nausea, causing me to relive the lunch I had eaten earlier. Realising that the likelihood of getting out for a hunt that afternoon was rapidly fading I crawled into the half

pitched tent and promptly passed out on the floor. A couple of hours later I emerged from the tent to find camp all set up and Matt and Terry nowhere to be seen. I still felt fairly average, but good enough to finish setting up my tent and unpacking my bedroll and sleeping bag. I fished a couple of paracetamol tablets out of my first aid kit and since Matt and Terry wouldnt be back until dark, slid into my sleeping bag for a few more hours. 4:30pm and I was feeling half human. Time to string a bow. I was disappointed that Id missed out on the afternoon hunt. So in preparation for tomorrow, I put about 30 arrows into the 3D goat target that had been set up, then busied myself getting a fire going to greet the hunters when they returned. Matt and Terry showed up about an hour after dark with tidings of plenty of game, but no shots taken. The rest of the night was spent around the campfire listening to tales of game taken and contemplating the prospect of tomorrows hunt. 6:00am the next morning and after a nice cup of coffee and a couple of slices of toast and jam, Matt and I geared up and headed off in search of our first stalks of the trip. It wasnt long before we were in the thick of things, glassing several small mobs of goats feeding ahead of us. We had a nice breeze in our faces, so we moved in for a closer look, the group consisted of nannies and a couple of kids. There was a nice nanny with a grey/blue colour skin and it was decided that Matt would have a stalk on this one, as he was looking for a nice skin to make a back quiver for his son. We both started stalking in, then, as the gap was closed, I hung back so as not to be spotted. With good amounts of cover Matt deftly moved into range of the grey nanny, who was on her own feeding on some grass in a low depres-

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the goat then started to move back to the rest of the group, giving Matt a perfect broadside shot at about 10-12 metres. The arrow found its mark and the goat was down about 5-10 metres from where it stood.

lengthy wait, half the mob split and moved out of range, while a few stragglers slowly fed in my direction. A nice size nanny moved broadside at about 22-25 metres and stopped moving just as I was about to let out a little bleat to pull it up. I came to full draw and released the string, on my Tolke Whip Longbow. The arrow cut through the air perfectly in line with the vital area, what a great shot! Then I realized the arrow was high and had sailed clear over the top of the nannys shoulder. Thankfully the arrow missed the animal all together, leaving this lucky goat to make its run to safety unscathed. With the numbers of goats we were seeing, I was not worried about a miss. There would be plenty of opportunities to make up for it! With the action over for now, we set about skinning and boning out the goat Matt had taken (after a few pics for the album of course). At this point I noticed something moving back and forth in the distance, on closer inspection, we discovered it was Terry, walking along waving an arrow to get our attention. He came over as we brewed up some coffee in the Jetboil and joined us for smoko. After finishing off the dressing work on Matts goat we packed the meat and skin and headed off again. Later on Terry called up on the UHF, Ive got some pigs here was the message. Matt and I were just about to set up for a stalk on some more goats, I was very keen to head in Terrys direction as Ive only seen pigs in the wild on one occasion, and that time they were safely on the other side of the river but not knowing exactly where Terry was, I decided to try my luck on some goats I could see about 100 metres upwind of my current position.

Moments after this, another group was spotted moving roughly in our direction. I decided to ambush them as they fed past, I had several well worn game trails to set up near, I just had to pick the one they would travel along. I positioned myself amongst some timber and saplings next to one of the trails and got comfortable, Matt snuck in behind and got his digital video camera out to try to catch the shot on film. After a

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Wishing Terry the best of luck I started to close the gap. Matt had the camera rolling again, the stiff breeze helping to cover the sound of snapping twigs and leaf litter as I went. I didnt have a lot of cover on the approach, but the goats were busy feasting on the grass that had sprouted in the dried up river beds. After what seemed like an eternity, I had maneuvered myself well inside my comfortable shooting range without being spotted. With my heart beating triple time, I took a few deep breaths and came to anchor on a nice little nanny. Wanting to make sure of the shot, I held at full draw, going over the shot process in my mind, I released the string sending the arrow on its deadly path to the target. Bang! Nailed it! That bit of wood next to the goat was as dead as a dodo. The goat on the other hand had bolted away unharmed, taking all her mates with her. I just stood there with my bow arm still extended, my string hand still resting on my shoulder. I couldnt believe it!! How did I miss?

wrong with me, I watched a large herd of goats come down to the river for a drink, about 500 metres from camp. It was decided that if they came back again tonight, it would be a great chance for me to get a nice easy shot as the goats milled around on the river bank. Matt and I headed around to where I had seen them the day before, but the wind was at our backs and the goats wouldnt come in. That evening we all sat down to a lovely leg of goat that Terry had cooked up in the camp oven. Matt had taken one nice eater and one young Bill. Terry had stalked some pigs and I was still yet to make a successful shot. I hah made some great stalks but great stalks dont equal meat in the freezer and we were leaving tomorrow. There was only one option left and that was to get out the .222 LOL Only kidding. The only thing to do was to be up at 6:00am again to try and redeem myself and get some respectability back. After all I can take rabbits with my Longbow so surely I can hit a bigger target like a goat., although so far there wasnt to much eveidence to back up my theory. 6:00am, and it was toast and coffee time again. Matt and I struck out roughly in the same

Slightly crest fallen at missing what should have been a straightforward shot, I thought to myself, at least the stalk was good. The same scenario played out several more times that day. We would spot a nice mob of goats, Matt, eager for me to get a successful shot off, would let me stalk in while he waited and watched through the video camera. I would get into range, think about the shot, and then put the arrow straight over or under the goats vitals. I was getting very frustrated with my inability to capitalize on the great stalks I was making. I decided to have a little break, and give Matt a chance to take a shot, (just incase my poor form didnt improve.) While Matt and Terry were out hunting on the first day, and I was getting over what ever was

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direction as the day before, 6:00am, and it was coffee and toast time again. Matt and I struck out in roughly the same direction as the day before, keeping the wind in our face. We found several smallish mobs, but with limited cover, we were quickly spotted. Pushing on past the alert goats, we came to an area with lots of fresh pig sign. I was all set to go in search of the pigs when Matt spied a huge mob of goats heading our way fast. Crouching down, we quickly found some cover and waited for them to come within range of our bows. I was standing on a fallen tree trunk, with several other trees at my back. Matt was about 3040 metres off to one side amongst some fallen timber. We had the wind in our faces and the goats were coming straight to us. Soon there were goats spread out all around us. We waited for the perfect shot opportunity. Looking over the goats to determine which one I would take a shot at, I spotted two Billys. They were headed my way. Suddenly the goats nearest to Matts position busted him and started to run. A small nanny had popped up in front of Matt while he was trying to get a shot at a different one and spooked the mob. Luckily, the Billy nearest to me hadnt noticed the commotion and continued on his merry way, about 25 metres in front of me. Seconds later my arrow passed through his ribcage. He let out a bit of a grunt and ran about 30 metres and stood broadside to me before getting the wobbles in the back end and going down for good. I was absolutely wrapped, I had shot my first ever Billy goat! It had all happened in a matter of minutes. From when the arrow hit to when the goat went down was probably a minute and a half. Matt came over and congratulated me on the shot and getting the monkey off my back. We took some photos, then Matt headed off for a stalk while I got the horns and the skin off. Matt returned with Terry, who had been hunting around not far from where I had shot my Billy. Seeing as this was the only goat I was going to get this trip, and not wanting to waste good meat, I decided to take the back straps and hind quarters as well, filling up my backpack to its capacity. We headed back to camp to pack up and begin the long journey home. 8 hours later I finally arrived at my home, exhausted but satisfied with the outcome of our latest bow hunting adventure.

It was a very satisfying end to another great trip. I had taken my first Billy with trad gear and managed to bring some fine meat home for the freezer. Couldnt ask for much more then that.

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The editor takes us through his method of splicing feathers.

By Matt Curry

With a trip over to Coloarado USA hunting Black Bear and Elk coming up I thought I would make myself a set of arrows with some slightly different flecthing over the usual barred and solid colours. I decided for this set I would splice some yellow and black feathers together to match my Stikbow Hunter arrow wraps. In this article I will give you a step by step run down on how I splice feathers. Keep in mind though I am no expert and there are other ways to do it. This way just seems to work well for me.

The first thing to do is to decide what colour you are going to use as your base colour. For this one I will be using Yellow with Black as the second colour. Next decide what length you want the end feather to be (this is usually determined by the chopper or burner you have).

Preparing The base feather:

1: For a 5 inch feather I like to cut the base feather at 5.5 inches to allow for a bit of room to play. Mark the base colour at 5.5 inches. Separate the vanes down to the quill and cut with scissors.

Equipment list:

Feather Chopper Fletching jig clamp Metal Ruler Scissors Sharp Knife Rotary Tool or sandpaper and block Fletching tape Full Length feather Sharp Knife

2: Next decide how long you want the second colour to be. I like to use 1.5 inches but you can use what ever length you want. 3: Mark the quill of the base colour from the back at 1.5 inches remembering to allow for the extra length you cut the base feather at (1/2 inch). With a sharp knife cut the vanes of the feather along the top of the quill from your mark of 1.5 inches.

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5: Peel the membrane all the way to the base of the vane and cut off. You know have the base colour feather prepared.

4: With the blade of your knife gently slide it under the top of the quill to pick up the clear membrane.

Preparing the second colour: (Black)

1: Try to pick a part of the feather that matches the the shape size of your base colour. 2: Cut the black feather at the desired length (2 inches in this case) leaving a little over. 3: Place your cut off bit in the Fletching jig clamp.

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6: Remove the feather from the clamp and peel off the backing from the fletch tape. Take your black piece of feather and place it on top of the white quill on the yellow base colour feather. Make sure to push the front of the black feather hard into the base of the yellow feather so as not to have any gaps in the finished product.

7: Place the whole feather back in the clamp and give the spliced section a hard rub to make sure it has stuck well. You now have your spliced uncut feather ready to go into your chopper or burner.

Cutting to shape using a feather chopper.

1: Place the uncut spliced feather in the chopper making sure the base is hard up against the retaining plate and close the lid. 2: Give the top of the chopper a firm hit with your mallet or hammer. Open the lid and you know have your cut, spliced feather reading for fletching.

4: Using your dremel tool or sanding block, grind the white quill away to expose the clear membrane. Be careful not to grind through the membrane as this will ruin the feather. It is advisable to wear a dust mask and safety glasses for this job. Brush off any dust left on the membrane.

5: Leaving the feather in the clamp lay some fletching tap down on the membrane for its entire length. Make sure to rub it down nice and hard to make sure it sticks well.

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Story Competition winner:

Congratulations to Paul Thomson for his story Fallow Deer: My Nemisis being picked as the Best Story competition winner for the May/JUne issue. His story embodied what Traditional bowhunting is all about and was very well written. It was a hard choice as all the stories submitted were of a very high standard. Paul wins a copy of the DVD Another Boaring Week kindly donated by Darren Amos and the Trash Boys.

Pauls story can be found starting on page 15 of the May/June issue up on the magazines web site

Photo Competition winner:

Congratulations to Luke Morgan for being chosen as the winner of the Mar/April issue photo competition. Its not that often I see a black rabbit in the magazines so thought it a worthy winner. Luke has won a dozen German pine shafts and points kindly donated by A.M.S.O 128 Archery supplies.

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Stikbow Hunter eMagazine is extremely happy to announce that thanks to some very generous sponsors we will be running an end of year BEST STORIES competition along with a photo competition to be held every issue. Bi Monthly Photo and Writing Competition: Send in your photos and stories to be in the running for some great prizes. A top secret panel of readers will decide which photo and story they liked best for each issue. The winning photo and story will be awarded some great prizes kindly donated by John McDonald at A.M.S.O 128 archery supplies and Darren Amos form Trash Boys DVDs All entries to be sent via email to editor@stikbowhunter.com or via mail to: Stikbow Hunter Editor 6 Clarendon drive Melton South, Victoria, Australia, 3338

End Of Year Writing Competition:: The writing competition will be judged after the last issue of Stikbow Hunter has been released for the year. The winners will be decided via a voting system that we will be setting up on the Stikbow hunter web site. We have three great prizes to be awarded to the top three stories. These prizes were very generously donated by Mark Harvey of TradBits archery, Russell Barber of Kanga Custom Bows in the USA and Ben Mayer. The prizes include a TradBits Rising pig 3D target, a Caldwell Camp knife valued at about $400 and a Custom made Kanga bows Take down Long Bow. All entries to be sent via email in a word doc. with separate photos to editor@stikbowhunter.com or alternatively on disc or flash drive to: Stikbow Hunter Editor 6 Clarendon drive, Melton South, Victoria, Australia 3338

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Neal Dowsett takes the curve looking for a feed of rabbits and ends up with his first two Trad foxes.

By Neal Dowsett

Id been using my Samick Volcano for around 3 months and had successfully taken a couple of hares, and managed to miss my fair share of rabbits as well as a few foxes. Id been putting in plenty of practice and knew it wouldnt be long until more success would come my way. Friday evening saw me stalking along one of my favorite creeks trying to bag a rabbit or two. Things were unusually quiet without any real chances of a shot. It wasnt long and Id found one of the reasons why it was so quiet. Id spotted a fox making its way along the creek ahead of me, checking every burrow along the way. I didnt have great cover, so I made the decision to let the fox move off and out of sight so I could make it to some decent cover and then Id try the whistle. Once Id made it to a decent sized tree, I pulled the whistle out, and within the first few blows I could see the fox making its way back to my position. The fox was a good 80 metres out and I stopped calling. The young fox had made quick ground to get an easy feed, but looked a little confused not knowing where its free feed had gone. He stopped 20 metres out, I started to draw, and squeaked with my lips. Without hesitation he came in to 10 metres, Id already picked a spot on its chest and let loose. The Outback broadhead had just sliced straight through the young dogs chest and he didnt have a clue what had just happened. He walked about 10 paces, looked back in my direction and then tried to run up the creek bank, but his efforts were short lived, as he died half way up the bank and slid back down to the

bottom of the dry creek bed. To say I was happy would have been an understatement. Id shot a lot of foxes with the compound, but this was my first with the recurve and it was something special.

The next day I was up early, hoping for more success. I was keen to bag my first rabbit with the recurve. Once again the rabbits didnt want to play by my rules and were making their escapes before a shot could be taken. Id come to a steep bank in the sand hills that had a few burrows and thought I might get a chance here. To my surprise, I spotted a good size fox snooping around under some trees. I quickly backed into a small eucalypt and gave a call on the whistle. The fox turned immediately and ran my way. I drew back as soon as the fox went out of sight at the bottom of the sand hill, but for some reason the fox kept running past at good pace and didnt look back. I was a little disappointed at not getting a shot, but the disappointment didnt last long, when I

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looked back to where the fox had come from I saw another younger fox lurking in the early morning shadows. A few blows on the whistle drew no response from the young fox, so I started to squeak. This had the fox coming straight in to my position at a good pace. Like the other fox, as soon as it went out of sight at the bottom of the sand hill I drew back and waited the few seconds it took for the fox to reach the top. As soon as it reached the top the young fox stopped broadside at 6 metres. Everything went to plan, the shot was spot on, straight through the heart. The fox made a short and fruitless dash for cover, but only managed to make it to the bottom of the dune. Once again I was over the moon, all that practice was starting to pay off.

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Wayne and Ron head down Texas way for some deer, goat and pig action.

By Wayne Hinton

A cool breeze blew across the road where I was seated signaling that summer was just about to end. It was early in the morning and I was waiting at the local 24 hour truck stop along with the strong smell of diesel fumes in the air. Half a dozen 600Hp trucks idling away while their drivers filled their own tank on the smell of bacon and eggs inside a busy breakfast road side dinner. Boy, this country would really come to a stand still if these fellas stopped hauling their goods up and down the highway, I thought to myself. The loud call from a loan magpie broke the cool morning air; it wouldnt be long before I heard that same call again, but it would be from 1800km south and at the head of the Brisbane Valley red dear country. I was waiting for my mate Ron to pick me up. He had made the long drive across from Darwin and was picking me up outside of Townsville for a deer trip, we had organized a year earlier when I was up in the Territory hunting pigs with him. We had planned a few days on the reds and a few on the fallow, it was going to be a whole new ball game for me as I had never hunted south of Rocky and was sure that the hills and ridges would sort out a few old weary and aging bones that had crept into this old body of mine. The trip down ended up being, how could you say, an eventful one Ron fell crook so we detoured into Brisbane where he spent the next few days in hospital getting his heart and chest checked out. Finally getting the okay, we headed out to his brother-in-law Teds place, at the head of the Brisbane Valley. We arrived late and in the dark of evening, so it was very hard to picture the landscape and surroundings of this new hunting country.

I awoke early with thick fog in the air and headed off for a morning walk along the road. I hadnt been walking ten minutes when I heard a single loud roar from a stag, I turned to where the noise had come from, and there was a small brake-a-way gully behind an old homestead. I strained my ears and eyes for 15 minutes or so, but couldnt see any movement at all. The elusive deer I thought to myself Returning to Teds house for a hearty breakfast we talked strategy and prepared our bows and hunting gear for the afternoons walk. We headed out later that day; it was late afternoon, about 4 pm, when we spotted a lone deer on the ridge top that was part of the hills straight behind Teds house. We got the binos out and watched the red deer graze to the shady side of the ridge stopping halfway down where it stayed and appeared happy to just slowly feed in the same area. We grabbed our bows and headed to the back of the property where a flowing creek ran at the base of the hills where we saw the deer. Ron glassed the whole area and spotted two more

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deer which were a closer target than the first one we had seen, so we approached these closer two with caution. As we climbed out of the steep creek bank Ron gave me the first stalk - I wasnt going to argue over that decision. Its funny how you remember everything to do with stalking and hunting, especially when the time comes to perform, a check list automatically running through your mind. Looking for wind direction I glanced around, hardly any movement in the trees, the tall grass and weeds had little movement as well. An old fence line headed off in the same direction the deer were, I could use this for cover if there were no other options available for the final 30 meters or so. I dropped the arrows off my hip quiver; they were fluoro green and stood out like the proverbial dogs b.... I looked back to Ron and got the nod. As soon as I started crawling on my hands and knees the heart doubled its pace. I picked a huge tree close to the fence line surrounded by bush for my next stop and sight of my prey. It was a long crawl passing through an old fence which ran off the one I was following. I slowly scanned the area where we had last seen the deer but could not locate them. Years of hunting had taught me not to proceed until you spot the target. They could have moved closer or could even be headed in my direction so I continued to scan the area for some time but to no avail. I turned to Ron some 60 70 meters back and could see him scanning the area with his binos, and then shrugging his shoulders in the air. I waved him over. They had vanished and Ron said to me, Welcome to deer hunting Wayno. We decided to head over to the next ridge to where we had spotted the first deer earlier in the evening but had to cover some ground fast as light was fading with about an hour left at the most. We passed a small dam where there were good signs of some stag wallows. They were certainly in the area. As we descended down on an angle to the next valley we spotted the lone deer halfway up the next ridge. A good 200 300 meters from us. We approached with caution to the 100 meter mark. Pulling up and getting the binos out we discovered the deer was a doe with no rack or trophy to be taken. We agreed I needed some practice stalking so we decided to see how close I could get with the camera for a few photos. Closing to within 60 metres I turned the camera on and to my surprise she spun her head around and glanced

straight in my direction, boy, thats what I call good hearing! A stalemate occurred, I couldnt move and she had all the patience in the world as she stood firm and fast looking in my direction for a good 15 minutes.

I had a small wash-away gully I had to get to if I was to approach any closer but it was steep, I mean really steep to get into and on top of that, the light was fading fast. I decided to get the zoom out and take a few photos as there was no way I was going to make it in time before the light faded and I needed at least a little light to take a few photos. As soon as she dropped her head to feed I would hit the shutter button and she would snap back up and look in my direction again. This happed half a dozen times as I rattled off the digital camera. Time was up, and I headed back to Ron and home. As we walked along, all was good; we had seen a few red deer, a lucky afternoon we both agreed. Following a few phone calls around the local area, over tea that night we reached an agreement we may have missed the Reds roar by about 2 weeks. We could stay and chance being lucky enough to spot the stag I had heard the morning before or we could head down to Texas to the fallow roar which we knew started a few weeks after the Reds. Well early next morning found us packing up as the decision had been made to head south and see if we could nail a fallow and maybe a goat or pig which were also located on the same property we were headed to. Wide open plains and small hilly ranges we passed through on the way. Nearly every bit of flat country had either Lucerne or maize growing on it. A colour contrast of rich green against a brown grassy background. A test of good soil I thought, or maybe the hard times ahead where in the cold of winter these crops would be used to replace grassless fields.

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We arrived at the property in the late afternoon; an old shearers quarters greeted us with power and all the modern conveniences. It was hilly country sparsely treeed, some soft flowing hills and steep ridges a bit of everything in landscape. We unpacked, booted up with bow in hand and headed out for a drive to the back of the property.

There was no stock on the place just a few fence jumpers from the next property which made it easy on the eye, not spotting cattle or sheep on every hill. The drive proved fruitless and the worrying thought of no game on the place started to creep into the thought of a bow hunter sitting in the back of a Ute. On the way back we stopped at a dam which found us spooking a pig wallowing in the late afternoon light. Then halfway down I spotted 2 does in a brake-away gully resting in the shade of a few trees we pulled up but were heard and they took off at what seemed like lightening speed across the flat. I slowly drifted off to sleep that night hoping to see some game tomorrow as most of us do when out hunting. The morning was cool, not too cool for locals like Ted but certainly cool enough for a Territorian and a North Queenslander I can tell you! We geared up and got Ted to drop us off at the back of the property on the ridge top for a good hike all the way back home. Ted was headed to the local creek to try his luck for some Murray Cod, well known in the area. We headed up and up until we reached a place where the land leveled and we were able to follow the main ridge along. It was an awesome empowering sight, the landscape we were walking within, the whole 360 degrees of it. We were being watched with amusement by a lone let-loose albino horse - these two bow hunters invading his morning patrol of sweet grass pickings which he seemed to have all to himself. Game was still scarce, we walked, stopped, glass-

ed and listened to every gully before midmorning hearing a few bleating calls of goats down in a thick bush-like gully. We had a few practice shots and headed off in the direction we heard the goats calling each other. I spotted a small dam in a wash -away creek and we knew the goats could be close by. Upon inspecting the dam we found we had just spooked a wallowing pig and scanned the area for any sign of him. Ron spotted him, a small 50 60kg black boar running in the open but back in our direction, so he headed up a gully to cut him off. I waited for him to pass and then followed in case he spotted or got wind of Ron and tried to double back. I kept my distance but following in the direction the little boar took. I had only walked 50 metres or so when I spotted movement ahead of me, but no Ron. The movement turned out to be a small mob of goats straight ahead, in the direction I was heading. He must have seen the goats, I thought to myself. I glassed the area quickly but no Ron or pig. I checked the wind and considered which direction Ron would be coming in from for a shot if he had seen them. With bow in hand and bum on the ground I started a slow stalk in, until I was spotted by one of the goats, a nanny lookout. This would be Rons chance I thought, if they were looking at

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me it would allow him to get in close for a shot, if he was even there. I moved again which got a serious look from the nanny so I froze still awaiting an outcome. A bow shot was heard, the goats took flight and I saw Ron stand up out of the grass. I couldnt see what had happened but no goats went to ground. I guess you win some and you miss some. We followed them past a small clearing near the dam we had just located and as luck would have it they had come to a stop as soon as they had hit a tree line and bedded down again. They havent been hunted too hard before I said to Ron. We took off up above them along a ridge and picked an easy track down towards where they had bedded down. Dropping our packs, I got the go ahead for a shot. I grabbed a few arrows and proceeded with due caution as spooked goats are always weary. I was having trouble finding cover and the bright fluoro green fletching on my shafts I thought was bound to give me away. I knocked an arrow and dropped the rest then proceeded at a snails pace to within 15 meters. I waited for a shot which soon presented itself his back towards me. Mentally quartering away, I thought perfect, the billy was cautious though, checking me out a few times

but thinking I was no threat. Thank God for camo, I thought to myself. There was a small vine hanging from a tree which was only about 5mm wide and followed the contour of the goats knee up past his heart and lung area to the top of his shoulder. Beauty I thought Ill just aim at that spot on the vine and I should get himNot! As I drew and released the arrow it flew strait and true hitting the spot on the vine and flew off at right angles, a complete miss! All the goats stood up hearing the noise but didnt run off to my amazement. I could have fired a hundred arrows a day for the next ten years at that spot on the vine and wouldnt have hit it! I learnt two lessons on that day first, never take aim at something unless you intend to hit it. The second was, never drop your arrows back, as here I was standing with another shot presenting itself and I was arrowless! I turned around to Ron, yep, he was laughing alright! Ron knew it was now his turn and he started to make his way down. Now heres experience for you, he stops halfway down and picks up my arrows and loads his bow quiver up to the hilt. The goats moved away a little and Ron followed. I backed out grabbing my pack and moving to the

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top of the ridge in case they made a run for it. A good 10 minutes had passed when I heard a loud bleat from a goat which had just taken either one of Rons arrows (or one of mine) from his quiver. I headed down towards the noise I had just heard and found Ron with a good sized expired billy. Not a huge set of horns but a big bodied one at that. The camera and hand shake came out and all was good in the world of bow hunting.

The rest of the trip saw us short on any deer, we saw a few pigs but all of a small size. You think I may have been disappointed there were no deer, no not here. I had spent some good times with great friends making lasting memories. We had hiked some amazing country. The deer, they may be back next year in numbers or they may not, who knows, but isnt that what bow hunting is all about?

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Pete Ward takes us along as he finishes of a Check-Mate Bow Blank

Review supplied by Pete Ward off his web site PETE WARD www.peteward.com

The idea of a Bow-Blank from Chek-Mate is new, and this is also a new design from Marc, the Owner and Bowyer of Chek-Mate bows. The new "Beaver Creek" D/R longbow was conceived at the longbow Safari a couple years ago in Alberta when several of us were sitting in camp, discussing what was good, bad and evil in the bow designs of today and yesterday. Its origin came from a prototype Marc had built several years before that we all thought had great potential. Three years later Marc became the owner of Chek-Mate and the Beaver Creek was born. This blank is the first ever from Chek-Mate and one of the first bows to come off the new form. The Beaver Creek is a winner, and sure to become one of the top selling Chek-Mate bows. Last week I looked at and shot the first prototype, a 58" 57# model that was finished by Marc. It shoots very nice. This was after I had completed this blank, so I was also able to compare my work to Marc's. His experience was apparent, however I am completely satisfied with my results. This is the first time I have worked with a bow blank. In fact this is the first time I have worked with a Glass bow as far as the building process is concerned. I have to say I was apprehensive when we discussed this project, and I was even more apprehensive when Marc sent me the blank to complete. I have made a few self and Board bows so I do have limited experience in shaping a grip and tillering a wood bow. I soon discovered that completing the blank was not all that different. The blank I received is a light weight blank, that is one of the first bows of this new design, "Beaver creek", from Chek-Mate. It arrived in the bare basic glue up form, Nothing other than band sawing the limb profile was done to it. All of the riser and tip overlays were glued on in square form. The riser wood is figured Purple Heart, with Grey Action Wood and Figured Purple Heart and Phenolic overlays. The Tip Overlays are the same with an added phenolic reinforcing on both sides. The limbs have beautiful Yew veneers on both sides. Because the bow was a light weight, I decided to make it a left hand for my grand daughter. It will be her first full size custom bow. This was my motivation to do a good job.

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#49 and 50 rasps. Now that it started to look like a bow I filed in the nocks and began to check the tiller. A few quick passes over the belt sander and the limbs were pulling even. I only took material from the sides and took care to make sure the limbs remained even and centered. Because I was making this bow for an 8-yearold girl I made the limbs thinner and the tips narrower than Marc had cut them. I like small limb tips for their looks, and these turned out great looking, and very stable. At this point I had a shooting bow. It is very quiet, and seems to have good speed. It was also very rough looking and now the time consuming part takes place. Sanding out the rasp marks and making the overlays flow into the limbs and riser takes time and patience. It is not difficult, just tedious if you want a professional looking bow. To make it as shooter friendly and clean looking it takes time to file in a shelf and side plate radius, then to get rid of all those small saw marks and rasp marks. When you think it looks great, and feels great, wet it down and see all the scratches you missed. This also raises the grain and lets you remove the fuzzy stuff. I did this several times, and each time it became better, smoother, and fewer scratches remained. You see a lot of defects as your sanding becomes finer. At this stage I was using #220 sand paper, then I used the Scotch bright pads to polish the wood and remove the final scratches. A final #600 sanding and I was ready to put the finish on the riser. This just left some prep work on the limbs to have them ready for the finish. With #220 I lightly sanded both faces, and rounded the edges. I wanted to do a True Oil finish but I could not find any, so I used krylon Acrylic enamel. This dries very fast and could be handled in a couple minutes. Because it dries fast it is resistant to runs also. Edges are the hardest to get coverage on, so it is best to stripe the edges, and tight spots like the shelf/ side plate corner with a first coat. Let this flash off and then spray with long even strokes the rest of the bow. If it looks like you missed a spot, wait a few minutes and apply a second coat. Don't get over anxious, and put on to much. Even krylon can run. In the end I spent about 10 hours total to take the blank from rough and square to a finished bow that I am delighted with. A band saw for the shelf/

I had planed to do this as a build along, but got carried away and was in to deep when I realized I was not taking photos as I went. The build took shape quicker than I expected.

Tools used.
Belt Sander, Band Saw, Nicholson #49 and #50 Rasps, Ferriers Rasp, Round file for nocks, Flat smooth files, Sanding Blocks, Strips of Emery cloth, #0000 Steel wool, Brown "Scotch Brite" pads. Finish is a rattle can of "krylon" Clear satin Acrylic enamel. 1: The first thing to do was finding the center of the grip and lay out the grip and shelf. A cloth measuring tape is easy for this. 2: The next step was to lightly sand the limb edges to remove the glass splinters from it being cut on the band saw. 3: Next was to use the belt sander and start the fading of the overlays into the limbs. This went very fast with a 36-grit belt. Next I made a trip to the Band Saw and cut out the shelf/ sight window. 4: From here in it was some rough sanding with 36 grit on the belt sander to rough shape the grip, them making it smaller and more defined with the

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sight window was a time saver as was the belt grinder. Hand tools can produce the same results, but it will take much longer. Marc will be doing some more of the work on these blanks in the future for you before you receive them. He will be cutting in the sight window, and tillering the limbs for you as well as cutting in the nocks. For those that want to do as much as possible Blanks will be available like the one I used. These will be better suited for those with some bowering experience, or the more adventurous. I thought that I bit off more than I could chew at first, and soon realized all I had to do was take my time, think about what the goal was and do it. Placing a bow near by that you want to use a reference while shaping is a good idea. At least a good photo or 2 would be a help. I promise to have a photo tutorial for the next one I do. If you have wanted to take the next step in building a bow, a blank is a great place to start before laying out a lot of money and time building one from scratch, only to discover you don't like it. I learned lots doing this project, and had fun too. The hardest part was making a left hand grip. I shoot right hand, and it was a constant struggle remembering to test feel it and shape it left handed. I also now have a greater appreciation for the bowyers and the fine bows they produce. Perhaps I was being too picky, but Emily my grand daughter deserves the best I can do. Here are some shots of the completed bow.

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Force Draw Curve for Bever Creek Bow Blank

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Photos by Paul Thomson

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GEAR REVIEWS MORE BOWHUNTING ADVENTURES PLUS MUCH MORE.

July / August 2010