What a Way to Go!

The odds of being killed by at meteorite are 1 in 250,000. Those odds should make you feel pretty certain you’re not going to be crushed by a falling celestial body. Strange things, however, happen and many of them seem to happen during archery practice.

While practicing on a 3D range in Maryland I made a nice center shot. That’s not to say it was my only center shot, I’ve hit others. What was different about this one is that as I pulled my arrow the tip and insert came out leaving a hollow opening at the end of the arrow. There was no digging the insert or tip out, both swallowed up in the foam of the faux pig.

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Robin Hooded Insert

The next day I was back on the same range for more practice. The targets, 30 of them, hadn’t been moved from their prior position. At the pig, where on the previous day I’d shot an insert/tip swallowing pinwheel, I repeated the shot – smack in the center.

When I walked up to the motionless foam boar I found my arrow not only again hit the center, but I had Robin Hooded the hidden insert lost from the day before.

Somewhere I once read that a Robin Hood occurs 1 in every 10,000 shots. I have no idea if this is correct or how it was that whomever came up with the number made their assessment. But, I have learned the expensive way to do my best to avoid a Robin Hood.

Nevertheless, the lost center shot insert and tip, now stuck on the tip of my latter arrow, seemed unique and among those weird things that happen while practicing archery. Yesterday, another meteoric odd shot occurred.

While practicing 3D the target was lining up on was a coyote at 37 yards. When I aimed at the target I noticed a small limb of a bush extending somewhat within the potential path of my arrow. It was very little twig and I considered the odds of that twig deflecting my arrow to be really small. I ignored the limb and shot.

Coyote in the distance and the nicked limb.

The weather has been up and down here on the coast of North Carolina. One day the high temperature will be in the 40s the next in the 60s. Shooting that arrow outside it was on a warm day, in the 60s and sunny. Birds where chirping and insects were hopping, crawling and flying about enjoying the momentary relief from the cold.

In this warmth my arrow, in flight, hit the tiny branch and deflected. Granted the odds were low despite my instinct warning me there might be a chance, albeit small, that I would strike the twig. After the shot, I thought, I’d lost that arrow, it being buried under fallen leaves.

What I hadn’t noticed, on the tiny branch, there had been a little green tree frog. No doubt this little frog was siting on the branch, warming itself, and waiting to nab an insect or two was they flew past. What flew past was not a bug; it was a Black Eagle arrow. Lifting my arrow from the leaves, there it was, a green tree frog, impaled and killed.

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What a way to go.

All I could do was stare and then remove the tiny amphibian from the arrow . What were the odds? This may be even more weird than the Robin Hooded insert. To be sure, I felt bad for the frog. It was only trying to enjoy a warm day among the recent  less pleasant ones.  Perhaps it was on the limb waiting for a fly or other insect to come within tongue reach.  Then,  smack – I suppose the odds were astronomical.

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