Broken Arrows
If you are an even remotely experienced archery hunter then you'll be all too familiar with broken arrows: shattered ends, pushed-in broadheads, snapped shafts, etc. Whether you sneeze and fling an arrow directly into that stone basset hound statue in your back garden, you fire an arrow directly through the back of a prior shot via your skill and precision, or you hit a feral hog directly in the shoulder, a broken arrow is a broken arrow. It is all too easy to decide that those arrows have met their end - being, as I said, that they might very well have broken into multiple pieces. That's a blaze of glory ending right there, and there isn't anything wrong with that. That is what arrows dream of when they're growing up in arrow elementary school.
Breaking an arrow is a common part of an archer's life. They are, to the extent we begrudgingly agree they are, expendable. Even if we don't go through a dozen arrows a season, or even one, we often find ourselves building a whole new set every year, just to try out something new to the market or even something just new to us. Those old arrows either sit untouched, get given to relatives, or are sold on an online marketplace of some variety. They are forgotten. But, what about those arrows that perform their jobs admirably, bring you success out in the field, and are still standing tall once the dust has settled - those arrows that have been in and out of your quiver, that have taken down game, without missing a beat? Those are the underappreciated heroes of our setups, and maybe they deserve a little bit more love.
As far as hunting is concerned, arrows break in bone, dirt, branches, stumps, stones, and of course trees. There is a wide variety of ways that your arrows can enter the woods intact and leave in less 'tact.' In many cases, those same arrows might even find their forever homes lodged in a log, covered in a healthy layer of moss and the dried blood of some wild cervid. It goes without saying that it is an ultimate goal to ethically harvest your animal and to have your well-thought-out arrow pass through, only to be recovered fully fit and ready to go again. You got your prize and you didn't lose part of your investment - ideal. Now, when that happens, what comes next?
Many will simply place their arrow back into their quiver: blood, hair, bone, and all. They'll inspect it to make sure the shaft is truly unscathed, they might clean it off a bit, and that arrow will go right back in the quiver as though the hunt never took place. In my estimation, I don't believe that is the correct way to go about any of this.
These are not casual moments, chasing wild game, harvesting your prey, and using it to feed our loved ones are all great privileges in this world. Using a bow and arrow makes it even more of a 'not casual moment.' The profound connection to our collective past, to the natural world, and to the animal itself that you experience when you take game with a bow is unlike anything else. It is personal, it is emotional, and above all, it is - or should be - reverent.
Reverence
The arrow I used to harvest my most recent deer still has the dried blood, fat, and hair stuck to it as it hangs in an old quiver in my closet (you can see it in the images throughout this article). The arrow came through the experience unscathed. The shaft is in great condition, the vanes are perfect, and the broadhead (mechanical B3 Exoskeletal) came out the other side like it had just come out of the packaging. If I wanted to, I could easily have put this arrow back in my quiver, albeit maybe with some replacement blades and a quick cleanup in the pursuit of ethical hunting, and used it to hunt the next day - I am sure a similar outcome would have taken place on the next deer I ended up shooting with it. But, the usability of an arrow/broadhead is not what determines if it gets to have another shot in the whitetail woods. If I had missed over the deer’s back and recovered the arrow in the same condition it currently sits, then that would be another story and I would have no issue with using it. The integrity of the arrow is not the point - the point is that it is so much more than that.
I am sure many archery hunters have their own reasons for hanging an arrow up - whether it be on a plaque at your camp or at the top of an old bow rack with all the other “spent” arrows - but I most often find that hunters will save arrows they used to take down memorable animals: their first Pope and Young whitetail, an elk they shot with their father on his last hunt before he passed away, their dream moose after spending ten grueling days in Alaska doing everything they could to call one in, etc. I am making no argument against any of these, or any resembling them. Those moments certainly deserve to be remembered, and the immortalizing of the arrow that made the final blow is one of many great ways to do it. My point, now, is that it should not be limited to exceptional cases of game-taking.
Honestly, as for the deer that was killed with the arrow I mentioned above, most hunters would have let this lady keep on walking. As much as I would have loved to shoot a 'turdy point buck', and as much as I’m sure this arrow would have loved to shoot one, I was more than content with the deer that I took with it. It was the final day of the regular archery season here in Pennsylvania and I desperately wanted to take the opportunity to bring venison home to my wife and our young son. No one would have gotten this deer mounted, much less written about it, and so its sole purpose was as a gift of communion and nutrition for my family - my wife, son, parents, brothers, grandparents, and in-laws all joined in my appreciation of the meat that came from the doe.
In addition to the importance of opportunity, communion, and sustenance for my loved ones, another aspect of the hunt brings about thoughts of sentimentality and thankfulness - and that is the hunt itself. It is a wonder, and a privilege, that we in this modern world are afforded the choice to use weapons of all shapes and sizes to pursue and take wild game. As most of us are aware, a good hunt often takes much more effort than simply releasing an arrow or squeezing a trigger. The long days of scouting and preparation, the pitch black mornings, the frigid air and unrelenting winds that do their best to chase us from our endeavor - they are all equal parts of the hunt. So, your one victorious arrow is the culmination of all the blood, sweat, and tears that went into your successful hunt. It is not just about the arrow. It is not just about the animal. It is not just about the process. It is about the reflection, appreciation, and reverence for an opportunity to be as close to the natural world as one can be. Because of this, as it would be with any successful arrow of mine, this one will never again see the inside of my quiver. Out of respect to the doe that is feeding my family, out of reverence for the hunt itself, out of appreciation to the outdoors, it is being retired - broadhead and all.
Finding Its Place
So, I’ll find a place for it - maybe on the wall at my family's hunting camp, maybe in the old hip quiver I keep hanging next to my coats - regardless of where it ends up, it will be the arrow that killed that specific doe on that specific morning in November of 2025. It will be the arrow that took the life of the first deer that I shot after my first son was born, and that is what it will always be. For that, I thank it, and bid it a happy retirement, having completed its purpose, and completed it well.
