My friends and family say I have a bad short-term memory. I forget the details about appointments and conversations and a lot of other day-to-day stuff. One thing I’m not bad at, however, is remembering events from years ago. Some memories are so clear that I can get them down to the day.
Like Sept. 23, 1995.
That was a bowhunting day I’ll not only never forget, but I would need several thousand words to describe. I won’t bore you with the details other than on that day my boss at the time, Pat Durkin, let me hunt on a property near his home and in a small Loc-On stand he had hung at least 20 feet up a straight red oak. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when a 9-point buck stepped out of the berry brush and walked 15 steps from my position. I sent a 2217 aluminum arrow through his lungs, and he barely made it 50 yards before collapsing.
DDH Editor Dan Schmidt with his first bow-kill. Sept. 23, 1995. (photo by Charles J. Alsheimer)
Upon seeing the buck wasn’t moving, I tried to stand up but couldn’t. My knees were shaking so badly that I didn’t dare try descending from that tree. I had to wait at least 20 minutes for my nerves to subside enough to get out of that tree. When I did, I ran over to the buck to confirm he was dead. He was very dead. Not knowing what to do next, I slapped my tag on him and then set my bow, my quiver and my hat next to the deer and then sprinted the quarter-mile back to Durkin’s house. Once there, huffing and puffing, I burst through the front door to find him sitting at his kitchen table drinking coffee with the late, great Charles Alsheimer.
“I got one!!!” I exclaimed. “I got a 9-pointer!!!”
I will never forget the look on their faces. Alsheimer didn’t hesitate; he immediately set his coffee cup on the table, smiled a wide grin and said, “Well, let’s go see him!” as he grabbed his Nikon camera bag from the corner of the room.
I had already notched more than a dozen deer kills to my credit at that point in my life (I was 28), but I had yet to bag a deer while bowhunting. To me, this was a very big deal because my journey on the bowhunting lifestyle had been almost completely self-contained. In the years leading up to that moment, I had to teach myself everything from how to shoot a bow to how to find deer and get close enough for a shot. And I was doing all of my hunting on public land in northern Wisconsin — not too conducive for close encounters with whitetails.
I took up bowhunting in the mid-1980s after having played with my older brothers’ PSE Citation compound that they left in my dad’s garage when they moved away from home. That Citation was one of the first high-tech compounds of the 1970s. It shot arrows a lot faster and straighter than the recurves we had used up until that point. But for me, it was nearly impossible to use until I was late in my teens. You see, that old compound was set up at 70 pounds draw weight, and it only had 50 percent let-off — way too much bow for a kid.
I didn’t even think of buying my first bow until I was working my way through college. Part-time jobs at a grocery store, construction business and department store allowed me to save up enough cash (wages back then were less than $4 an hour, by the way) to start shopping for my new dream bow. That big day came in late spring of 1991 when I was officially out of college and entering the working world. On that day, I drove my 1978 Caprice Classic to Falls Archery in Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin, and declared to the shop owner that I wanted the “fastest and lightest” compound bow that he had.
“I really want to bag a deer while bowhunting,” I told him.
After showing me several of the new models, the shop owner steered me toward the Ultralight Series from Darton Archery.
“These are really nice,” he said. “They aren’t cheap, but I think you will be very happy.”
The original catalog copy for the Darton Trailmaster.
Several models were available in that series, and I settled on the Trailmaster. It was so cool and, after all, it had a Trebark-like camouflage finish. The deer would NEVER see that!
After he up-sold me on adding a quiver, six Easton arrows, sight and rest, I plunked down $150 in the wad of fives, tens and twenties I had stashed in a peanut jar over the past year and a half.
The Darton Trailmaster was built for deer hunting, incorporating a lot of high-tech ideas of the time. (photos by Daniel Schmidt)
Parting of Ways
Fast-forward a couple years, and I was firmly entrenched in my job here at Deer & Deer Hunting. By then, I had the luxury of testing newer bows and knew I wouldn’t be hunting with my Trailmaster much, if at all, during the forthcoming deer seasons. With that in mind, I unceremoniously gave the bow to a friend at Krause Publications who wanted to get into bowhunting. She and her husband lived the outdoors lifestyle, and I was happy to aid in their enjoyment of the sport of bowhunting.
From that point, fast-forward another 23 years. That would bring us up to the mid-March of 2019 and right smack dab in the middle of a conversation I’m having with my friend and hunting industry comrade Ted Nugent.
I’ve known Ted for nearly 25 years, and I’m continually amazed at his incredible memory. He remembers EVERY detail of everything. Not just music. Not just history. Not just hunting. Everything! But, of course, his best details come from when he tells me about his hunting history, because he has truly lived a blessed life in that he has experienced the entire spectrum — from when we had few game animals to when archery was in its infancy. Long story short: The conversation turned to archery equipment and all of the awesome broadheads and bows and everything in between that he had the good fortune of testing back in the day. That conversation had me thinking about that Trailmaster.
“Man, I wish I would have kept that bow,” I told him. “I gave it to a friend here at work nearly 25 years ago, and I’m sure she probably trashed it a long time ago.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Does she still work there?”
“Well, yeah, she does, in fact.”
“THEN ASK HER!”
The Reunion
Imagine my surprise when my friend Cindi showed up at the office today with a smile on her face and asked me to follow her to the parking lot.
I knew she had that bow with her.
She sure did. As she opened the hatch of her vehicle, I immediately saw that camo riser … and the quiver … and the cat whiskers … and the moleskin I had placed on the Tiger Tuff arrow rest.
“This is EXACTLY how I gave it to you!” I said.
“Yep,” she said. “I wanted to keep it all intact just the way you gave it to me.”
Dan Schmidt is reunited with his first compound bow — nearly a quarter century after giving it to a friend who wanted to take up bowhunting. (photo by Chris Berens)
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