That’s when it hit. I was using the wrong weapon. I even owned a crossbow. I’d bought a Carbon Express Covert CX1 for Michelle after she screwed up her shoulder. After sighting it in for her, I never touched it again because, for one thing, I love shooting a bow. I like that you have to practice more or less constantly to stay good at it. And for another, I’m a little intimidated by the crossbow. It seemed to explode when I pulled the trigger—a huge shudder of released energy. And it was a beast, occasionally burying bolts past the fletching in the target. You had to keep all that energy cocked and ready in your treestand. A guy at my local archery shop told me that most people replaced the string after 200 or 300 shots. You obviously didn’t shoot the thing for amusement.