These may be old lessons rediscovered, yet every time an archer rediscovers ancient lore he revives the past. Every time an old quiver outperforms a modern one, or an old bow limb design makes new sense, or a primitive technique finds a translation in the modern world, a wall between the past and the present falls to the ground. When that happens, one can almost recognize dim ancestors huddled near fresh meat, near the hum of a musical bowstring making friction fire, near the very origins of civilization itself. Sometimes, for fleeting moments, they visit mountain campsites in the Denali Range where goat ribs roast on green willow sticks, or they come to bomas in South Africa after hunting companions have quit the Dutch ovens nestled in glowing coals and either turned silent or gone to bed. They come as reflections upon the starlit night. After embers cover up with clean ash. They tell of life played full contact, close to the bone.

from Leopard Spots