What’s the old saying? “First shot, best shot.”

At least, that’s how I always think about it when I’m practicing with my recurve bow. I generally step out into the backyard before I leave for the office each morning and take a single practice shot.

One shot. No more. Good or bad . . . the thinking being that this is how it happens for real: You only get one shot.

So this morning I strapped on my old arm guard, slipped on my leather shooting glove, grabbed my briefcase and my bow, and stepped outside—only to be met by these three lovely ladies at the 7:30 a.m. breakfast buffet, there alongside my old 3D foam deer target with the chest shot out. They seemed to not be the least concerned and, after looking up at me for a moment, casually returned to their feeding.

Typical.

Because my wife, Mary Jane, has them all named, you see, and they know that our little place in the woods is their own equivalent of a sanctuary city.

I started to go ahead and put an arrow through the target, just to mess with them, but I knew that if I missed they’d never let me live it down.

 

 

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