Book: Hunting with the Bow and Arrow

S >> Saxton Pope >> Hunting with the Bow and Arrow




Ishi called an arrow _sa wa_.

In making arrows the first thing is to get the shafts. Ishi used many
woods, but he preferred witch hazel. The long, straight stems of this
shrub he cut in lengths of thirty-two inches, having a diameter of
three-eighths of an inch at the base when peeled of bark.

He bound a number of these together and put them away in a shady place
to dry. After a week or more, preferably several months, he selected
the best shafts and straightened them. This he accomplished by holding
the concave surface near a small heap of hot embers and when warm he
either pressed his great toe on the opposite side, or he bent the wood
backward on the base of the thumb. Squinting down its axis he lined up
the uneven contours one after the other and laid the shaft aside until
a series of five was completed. He made up arrows in lots of five or
ten, according to the requirements, his fingers being the measure.

The sticks thus straightened he ran back and forth between two grooved
pieces of sandstone or revolved them on his thigh while holding the
stones in his hand, until they were smooth and reduced to a diameter of
about five-sixteenths of an inch. Next they were cut into lengths of
approximately twenty-six inches. The larger end was now bound with a
buckskin thong and drilled out for the depth of an inch and a half to
receive the end of the foreshaft. He drilled this hole by fixing a
long, sharp bone in the ground between his great toes and revolved the
upright shaft between his palms on this fixed point, the buckskin
binding keeping the wood from splitting.

The foreshaft was made of heavier wood, frequently mountain mahogany.
It was the same diameter as the arrow, only tapering a trifle toward
the front end, and usually was about six inches long. This was
carefully shaped into a spindle at the larger end and set in the
recently drilled hole of the shaft, using glue or resin for this
purpose. The joint was bound with chewed sinew, set in glue.

The length of an arrow, over all, was estimated by Ishi in this manner.
He placed one end on the top of his breast-bone and held the other end
out in his extended left hand. Where it touched the tip of his
forefinger it was cut as the proper length. This was about thirty-two
inches.

The rear end of his arrow was now notched to receive the bowstring. He
filed it with a bit of obsidian, or later on, with three hacksaw blades
bound together until he made a groove one-eighth of an inch wide by
three-eighths deep. The opposite end of the shaft was notched in a
similar way to receive the head. The direction of this latter cut was
such that when the arrow was on the bow the edge of the arrowhead was
perpendicular, for the fancied reason that in this position the arrow
when shot enters between the ribs of an animal more readily. He did not
seem to recognize that an arrow rotates.

At this stage he painted his shafts. The pigments used in the wilds
were red cinnabar, black pigment from the eye of trout, a green
vegetable dye from wild onions, and a blue obtained, he said, from the
root of a plant. These were mixed with the sap or resin of trees and
applied with a little stick or hairs from a fox's tail drawn through a
quill.

His usual design was a series of alternating rings of green and black
starting two inches from the rear end and running four inches up the
shaft. Or he made small circular dots and snaky lines running down the
shaft for a similar distance. When with us he used dry colors mixed
with shellac, which he preferred to oil paints because they dried
quicker. The painted area, intended for the feathers, is called the
shaftment and not only helps in finding lost arrows, but identifies the
owner. This entire portion he usually smeared with thin glue or sizing.

A number of shafts having been similarly prepared, the Indian was ready
to feather them. A feather he called _pu nee_. In fledging arrows Ishi
used eagle, buzzard, hawk or flicker feathers. Owl feathers Indians
seem to avoid, thinking they bring bad luck. By preference he took them
from the wings, but did not hesitate to use tail feathers if reduced to
it. With us he used turkey pinions.

Grasping one between the heel of his two palms he carefully separated
the bristles at the tip of the feather with his fingers and pulled them
apart, splitting the quill its entire length. This is called stripping
a feather. Taking the wider half he firmly held one end on a rock with
his great toe, and the other end between the thumb and forefinger of
his left hand. With a piece of obsidian, or later on a knife blade, he
scraped away the pith until the rib was thin and flat.

Having prepared a sufficient number in this way he gathered them in
groups of three, all from similar wings, tied them with a bit of string
and dropped them in a vessel of water. When thoroughly wet and limp
they were ready for use.

While he chewed up a strand of sinew eight or ten inches long, he
picked up a group of feathers, stripped off the water, removed one, and
after testing its strength, folded the last two inches of bristles down
on the rib, and the rest he ruffled backward, thus leaving a free space
for later binding. He prepared all three like this.

Picking up an arrow shaft he clamped it between his left arm and chest,
holding the rear end above the shaftment in his left hand. Twirling it
slowly in this position, he applied one end of the sinew near the nock,
fixing it by overlapping. The first movements were accomplished while
holding one extremity of the sinew in his teeth; later, having applied
the feathers to the stick, he shifted the sinew to the grasp of the
right thumb and forefinger.

One by one he laid the feathers in position, binding down the last two
inches of stem and the wet barbs together. The first feather he applied
on a line perpendicular to the plane of the nock; the two others were
equidistant from this. For the space of an inch he lapped the sinew
about the feathers and arrow-shaft, slowly rotating it all the while, at
last smoothing the binding with his thumb nail.

The rear ends having been lashed in position, the arrow was set aside
to dry while the rest were prepared.

Five or ten having reached this stage and the binding being dry and
secure, he took one again between his left arm and chest, and with his
right hand drew all the feathers straight and taut, down the shaft.
Here he held them with the fingers of his left hand. Having marked a
similar place on each arrow where the sinew was to go, he cut the
bristles off the rib. At this point he started binding with another
piece of wet sinew. After a few turns he drew the feathers taut again
and cut them, leaving about a half inch of rib. This he bound down
completely to the arrow-shaft and finished all by smoothing the wet
lapping with his thumb nail.

The space between the rib and the wood he sometimes smeared with more
glue to cause the feather to adhere to the shaft, but this was not the
usual custom with him. After all was dry and firm, Ishi took the arrow
and beat it gently across his palm so that the feathers spread out
nicely.

As a rule the length of his feathers was four inches, though on
ceremonial arrows they often were as long as eight inches.

After drying, the feathers were cut with a sharp piece of obsidian,
using a straight stick as a guide and laying the arrow on a flat piece
of wood. When with us he trimmed them with scissors, making a straight
cut from the full width of the feather in back, to the height of a
quarter of an inch at the forward extremity. On his arrows he left the
natural curve of the feather at the nock, and while the rear binding
started an inch or more from the butt of the arrow, the feather drooped
over the nock. This gave a pretty effect and seemed to add to the
steering qualities of the missile.

Two kinds of points were used on Ishi's arrows. One was the simple
blunt end of the shaft bound with sinew used for killing small game and
practice shots. The other was his hunting head, made of flint or
obsidian. He preferred the latter.

Obsidian was used as money among the natives of California. A boulder
of this volcanic glass was packed from some mountainous districts and
pieces were cracked off and exchanged for dried fish, venison, or
weapons. It was a medium of barter. Although all men were more or less
expert in flaking arrowheads and knives, the better grades of bows,
arrows, and arrow points were made by the older, more expert
specialists of the tribe.

Ishi often referred to one old Indian, named _Chu no wa yahi_, who
lived at the base of a great cliff with his crazy wife. This man owned
an ax, and thus was famous for his possessions as well as his skill as
a maker of bows. From a distant mountain crest one day Ishi pointed out
to me the camp of this Indian who was long since dead. If ever Ishi
wished to refer to a hero of the bow, or having been beaten in a shot,
he always told us what _Chu no wa yahi_ could have done.

To make arrowheads properly one should smear his face with mud and sit
out in the hot sun in a quiet secluded spot. The mud is a precaution
against harm from the flying chips of glass, possibly also a good luck
ritual. If by chance a bit of glass should fly in the eye, Ishi's
method of surgical relief was to hold his lower lid wide open with one
finger while he slapped himself violently on the head with the other
hand. I am inclined to ascribe the process of removal more to the
hydraulic effect of the tears thus started than to the mechanical jar
of the treatment.

He began this work by taking one chunk of obsidian and throwing it
against another; several small pieces were thus shattered off. One of
these, approximately three inches long, two inches wide and half an
inch thick, was selected as suitable for an arrowhead, or _haka_.
Protecting the palm of his left hand by a piece of thick buckskin, Ishi
placed a piece of obsidian flat upon it, holding it firmly with his
fingers folded over it.

In his right hand he held a short stick on the end of which was lashed
a sharp piece of deer horn. Grasping the horn firmly while the longer
extremity lay beneath his forearm, he pressed the point of the horn
against the edge of the obsidian. Without jar or blow, a flake of glass
flew off, as large as a fish scale. Repeating this process at various
spots on the intended head, turning it from side to side, first
reducing one face, then the other, he soon had a symmetrical point. In
half an hour he could make the most graceful and perfectly proportioned
arrowhead imaginable. The little notches fashioned to hold the sinew
binding below the barbs he shaped with a smaller piece of bone, while
the arrowhead was held on the ball of his thumb.

Flint, plate glass, old bottle glass, onyx--all could be worked with
equal facility. Beautiful heads were fashioned from blue bottles and
beer bottles.

The general size of these points was two inches for length,
seven-eighths for width, and one-eighth for thickness. Larger heads
were used for war and smaller ones for shooting bears.

Such a head, of course, was easily broken if the archer missed his
shot. This made him very careful about the whole affair of shooting.

When ready for use, these heads were set on the end of the shaft with
heated resin and bound in place with sinew which encircled the end of
the arrow and crossed diagonally through the barb notches with many
recurrences.

Such a point has better cutting qualities in animal tissue than has
steel. The latter is, of course, more durable. After entering
civilization, Ishi preferred to use iron or steel blades of the same
general shape, or having a short tang for insertion in the arrowhead.

Ishi carried anywhere from five to sixty arrows in a quiver made of
otter skin which hung suspended by a loop of buckskin over his left
shoulder.

His method of bracing or stringing the bow was as follows: Grasping it
with his right hand at its center, with the belly toward him, and the
lower end on his right thigh, he held the upper end with his left hand
while the loop of the string rested between his finger and thumb. By
pressing downward at the handle and pulling upward with the left hand
he so sprung the bow that the loop of the cord could be slipped over
the upper nock.

[Illustration: ISHI AND APPERSON, THE GUIDE, ONCE OLD ENEMIES, NOW
FRIENDS]

[Illustration: CALLING GAME IN AMBUSH]

[Illustration: THE INDIAN'S FAVORITE SHOOTING POSITION]

[Illustration: CHOPPING OUT A JUNIPER BOW]

In nocking his arrow, the bow was held diagonally across the body, its
upper end pointing to the left. It was held lightly in the palm of the
left hand so that it rested loosely in the notch of the thumb while the
fingers partially surrounded the handle. Taking an arrow from his
quiver, he laid it across the bow on its right side where it lay
between the extended fingers of his left hand. He gently slid the arrow
forward until the nock slipped over the string at its center. Here he
set it properly in place and put his right thumb under the string,
hooked upward ready to pull. At the same time he flexed his forefinger
against the side of the arrow, and the second finger was placed on the
thumb nail to strengthen the pull.

Thus he accomplished what is known as the Mongolian release.

Only a few nations ever used this type of arrow release, and the Yana
seem to have been the only American natives to do so. [2]
[Footnote 2: See Morse on _Arrow Release_.]

To draw his bow he extended his left arm. At the same time he pulled
his right hand toward him. The bow arm was almost in front of him,
while his right hand drew to the top of his breast bone. With both eyes
open he sighted along his shaft and estimated the elevation according
to the distance to be shot.

He released firmly and without change of position until the arrow hit.
He preferred to shoot kneeling or squatting, for this was most
favorable for getting game.

His shooting distances were from ten yards up to fifty. Past this range
he did not think one should shoot, but sought rather to approach his
game more closely.

In his native state he practiced shooting at little oak balls, or
bundles of grass bound to represent rabbits, or little hoops of willow
rolled along the ground. Like all other archers, if Ishi missed a shot
he always had a good excuse. There was too much wind, or the arrow was
crooked, or the bow had lost its cast, or, as a last resource, the
coyote doctor bewitched him, which is the same thing we mean when we
say it is just bad luck. While with us he shot at the regulation straw
target, and he is the first and only Indian of whose shooting any
accurate records have been made.

Many exaggerated reports exist concerning the accuracy of the shooting
of American Indians; but here we have one who shot ever since
childhood, who lived by hunting, and must have been as good, if not
better, than the average.

He taught us to shoot Indian style at first, but later we learned the
old English methods and found them superior to the Indian. At the end
of three months' practice, Dr. J. V. Cooke and I could shoot as well as
Ishi at targets, but he could surpass us at game shooting.

Ishi never thought very much of our long bows. He always said, "Too
much _man-nee_." And he always insisted that arrows should be painted
red and green.

But when we began beating him at targets, he took all his shafts home
and scraped the paint off them, putting back rings of blue and yellow,
doubtless to change his luck. In spite of our apparent superiority at
some forms of shooting, he never changed his methods to meet
competition. We, of course, did not want him to.

Small objects the size of a quail the Indian could hit with regularity
up to twenty yards. And I have seen him kill ground squirrels at forty
yards; yet at the same distances he might miss a four-foot target. He
explained this by saying that the target was too large and the bright
colored rings diverted the attention. He was right.

There is a regular system of shooting in archery competition. In
America there is what is known as the American Round, which consists of
shooting thirty arrows at each of the following distances: sixty,
fifty, and forty yards. The bull's-eye on the target is a trifle over
nine inches and is surrounded by four rings of half this diameter.
Their value is 9, 7, 5, 3, 1, successively counting from the center
outward. The target itself is constructed of straw, bound in the form
of a mat four feet in diameter, covered with a canvas facing.

Counting the hits and scores on the various distances, a good archer
will make the following record. Here is Arthur Young's best score:

March 25, 1917.

At 60 yards 30 hits 190 score 11 golds
50 yards 30 hits 198 score 9 golds
40 yards 30 hits 238 score 17 golds

Total 90 hits 626 score 37 golds

This is one of the best scores made by American archers.

Ishi's best record is as follows:

October 23, 1914.

At 60 yards 10 hits 32 score
50 yards 20 hits 92 score 2 golds
40 yards 19 hits 99 score 2 golds

Total 49 hits 223 score 4 golds

His next best score was this:

At 60 yards 13 hits 51 score
50 yards 17 hits 59 score
40 yards 22 hits 95 score

Total 52 hits 205 score

My own best practice American round is as follows:

May 22, 1917.

At 60 yards 29 hits 157 score
50 yards 29 hits 185 score
40 yards 30 hits 196 score

Total 88 hits 538 score

Anything over 500 is considered good shooting.

It will be seen from this that the Indian was not a good target shot,
but in field shooting and getting game, probably he could excel the
white man.




III


ISHI'S METHODS OF HUNTING


Hunting with Ishi was pure joy. Bow in hand, he seemed to be
transformed into a being light as air and as silent as falling snow.
From the very first we went on little expeditions into the country
where, without appearing to instruct, he was my teacher in the old, old
art of the chase. I followed him into a new system of getting game. We
shot rabbits, quail, and squirrels with the bow. His methods here were
not so well defined as in the approach to larger game, but I was struck
from the first by his noiseless step, his slow movements, his use of
cover. These little animals are flushed by sound and sight, not scent.
Another prominent feature of Ishi's work in the field was his
indefatigable persistence. He never gave up when he knew a rabbit was
in a clump of brush. Time meant nothing to him; he simply stayed until
he got his game. He would watch a squirrel hole for an hour if
necessary, but he always got the squirrel.

He made great use of the game call. We all know of duck and turkey
calls, but when he told me that he lured rabbits, tree squirrels,
wildcats, coyote, and bear to him, I thought he was romancing. Going
along the trail, he would stop and say, "_Ineja teway--bjum--metchi bi
wi_," or "This is good rabbit ground." Then crouching behind a suitable
bush as a blind, he would place the fingers of his right hand against
his lips and, going through the act of kissing, he produced a plaintive
squeak similar to that given by a rabbit caught by a hawk or in mortal
distress. This he repeated with heartrending appeals until suddenly one
or two or sometimes three rabbits appeared in the opening. They came
from distances of a hundred yards or more, hopped forward, stopped and
listened, hopped again, listened, and ultimately came within ten or
fifteen yards while Ishi dragged out his squeak in a most pathetic
manner. Then he would shoot.

To test his ability one afternoon while hunting deer, I asked the Yana
to try his call in twelve separate locations. From these twelve calls
we had five jackrabbits and one wildcat approach us. The cat came out
of the forest, cautiously stepped nearer and sat upon a log in a bright
open space not more than fifty yards away while I shot three arrows at
him, one after the other; the last clipped him between the ears.

This call being a cry of distress, rabbits and squirrels come with the
idea of protecting their young. They run around in a circle, stamp
their feet, and make great demonstrations of anger, probably as much to
attract the attention of the supposed predatory beast and decoy him
away, as anything else.

The cat, the coyote, and the bear come for no such humane motive; they
are thinking of food, of joining the feast.

I learned the call myself, not perfectly, but well enough to bring
squirrels down from the topmost branches of tall pines, to have foxes
and lynx approach me, and to get rabbits.

Not only could Ishi call the animals, but he understood their language.
Often when we have been hunting he has stopped and said, "The squirrel
is scolding a fox." At first I said to him, "I don't believe you." Then
he would say, "Wait! Look!" Hiding behind a tree or rock or bush, in a
few minutes we would see a fox trot across the open forest.

It seemed that for a hawk or cat or man, the squirrel has a different
call, such that Ishi could say without seeing, what molested his little
brother.

Often have we stopped and rested because, so he said, a bluejay called
far and wide, "Here comes a man!" There was no use going farther, the
animals all knew of our presence. Only a white hunter would advance
under these circumstances.

Ishi could smell deer, cougar, and foxes like an animal, and often
discovered them first this way. He could imitate the call of quail to
such an extent that he spoke a half-dozen sentences to them. He knew
the crow of the cock on sentinel duty when he signals to others; he
knew the cry of warning, and the run-to-shelter cry of the hen; her
command to her little ones to fly; and the "lie low" cluck; then at
last the "all's well" chirp.

Deer he could call in the fawn season by placing a folded leaf between
his lips and sucking vigorously. This made a bleat such as a lamb
gives, or a boy makes blowing on a blade of grass between his thumbs.

He also enticed deer by means of a stuffed buck's head which he wore as
a cap, and bobbing up and down behind bushes excited their curiosity
until they approached within bow-shot. Ordinarily in hunting deer, the
Indian used what is termed the still hunt, but with him it was more
than that. First of all he studied the country for its formation of
hills, ridges, valleys, canyons, brush and timber. He observed the
direction of the prevailing winds, the position of the sun at daybreak
and evening. He noted the water holes, game trails, "buck look-outs,"
deer beds, the nature of the feeding grounds, the stage of the moon,
the presence of salt licks, and many other features of importance. If
possible, he located the hiding-place of the old bucks in daytime, all
of which every careful hunter does. Next, he observed the habits of
game, and the presence or absence of predatory beasts that kill deer.

Having decided these and other questions, he prepared for the hunt. He
would eat no fish the day before the hunt, and smoke no tobacco, for
these odors are detected a great way off. He rose early, bathed in the
creek, rubbed himself with the aromatic leaves of yerba buena, washed
out his mouth, drank water, but ate no food. Dressed in a loin cloth,
but without shirt, leggings or moccasins, he set out, bow and quiver at
his side. He said that clothing made too much noise in the brush, and
naturally one is more cautious in his movements when reminded by his
sensitive hide that he is touching a sharp twig.

From the very edge of camp, until he returned, he was on the alert for
game, and the one obvious element of his mental attitude was that he
suspected game everywhere. He saw a hundred objects that looked like
deer, to every live animal in reality. He took it for granted that ten
deer see you where you see one--so see it first! On the trail, it was a
crime to speak. His warning note was a soft, low whistle or a hiss. As
he walked, he placed every footfall with precise care; the most
stealthy step I ever saw; he was used to it; lived by it. For every
step he looked twice. When going over a rise of ground he either
stooped, crawled or let just his eyes go over the top, then stopped and
gazed a long time for the slightest moving twig or spot of color. Of
course, he always hunted up wind, unless he were cutting across country
or intended to flush game.

At sunrise and sunset he tried always to get between the sun and his
game. He drifted between the trees like a shadow, expectant and nerved
for immediate action.

Some Indians, covering their heads with tall grass, can creep up on
deer in the open, and rising suddenly to a kneeling posture shoot at a
distance of ten or fifteen yards. But Ishi never tried this before me.
Having located his quarry, he either shot, at suitable ranges, or made
a detour to wait the passing of the game or to approach it from a more
favorable direction. He never used dogs in hunting.

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