The author took his interest in antiquarian hunting to a new level at Allen Creek WMA last season. Photo by Priscilla Smith.

So how did my 2006 archery season at Hall County's Allen Creek Wildlife Management Area go, you ask? Something like this:

It is a poor place in which to hunt, this wood, lying as it does close to the habitations of men. The forest's deer -- they knowing that the craftiest of creatures thinks himself lord here, and that death at his hands, through stratagem or main force, ofttimes catches them out unawares -- are spied but rarely, save when in rut. Then, male and female alike so forget themselves as to advantage the huntsman favored by Fortune.

Howsoever that may be, my lot is to roam but this one space of ground in the solitary chase that is my delight. And so I thank God for it, and will speed me as best I may.

I sit at the foot of an ancient tree -- ad fustem, as clerks who can recite the neck-verse will say, or, as is written in the beautiful handbooks of venery that the great consult, à l'affut -- and, my crossbow spanned and at the ready, the edges of its bolt's barbed broadhead honed keen, my rondel dagger likewise sharpened for the field-dressing (should I prosper), I wait.

And wait.

And wait. Yet more.

Yeah -- that's me! I've got digital video to prove it! (A big thank-you to my son Malcolm.) And while the language may be archaic, it paints a pretty accurate picture of what I was doing on that particular day's sally: hunkering down behind some brush fronting a big oak on the path to a watering area that I suspected was resorted to by late-season whitetails. This while armed with a medieval hunter's version of a weapon that at the beginning of the 15th century would already have been in use for 18 centuries and more. And kitted out with clothing of the era and gear to match.

Your next question: Why? It's like this.

* * *

In the spring of 2006, I abruptly conceived the notion of trying my hand at deer hunting by means of archery tackle. I never take the interstate highway when a bumpy two-lane blacktop beckons, however. Among my interests is music, and when not banging away on electric guitars and the associated electronics, I like to struggle with instruments made the old-fashioned way -- and I mean the really old-fashioned way, like they did it when the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock: Renaissance lutes, little skinny guitars and whatnot, strung and fretted with sheepgut and tuned in weird ways. They're a pain, but I love them.

So I resolved to equip myself with the weapon that had intrigued me since I was a bookish 8-year-old: the crossbow as it was in the high Middle Ages.

A "DEATHLY AND HATEFUL" WEAPON
First appearing in China around 350 B.C., the crossbow turned up in Rome about the time of Constantine the Great, built at scales ranging from small personal weapons to war engines the size of a small catapult. In 1066, William the Conqueror and his invading Normans brought them into England in a big way.

In the Middle Ages, feelings about the crossbow were mixed. In April 1139, at the second Lateran council, Pope Innocent II tried to ban Christian-on-Christian crossbow use, pronouncing anathema on those who dared wield a device that the pontiff condemned as "deathly and hateful to God and unfit to be used among Christians." His proscription was widely disregarded, as was the similar outlawing of the crossbow in England that was written into Magna Carta.

On the other hand, companies of citizen crossbowmen were tokens of a rising desire for popular self-determination in the emerging Swiss federation -- witness the probably fanciful account of national icon Wilhelm Tell. Crossbows were also valued in the republican city-states of north Italy, two of whose successors, Gubbio and Sansepolcro, compete to this day in an annual target shoot with what in Italian are called balestri.

How They Work: Then And Now
In some senses, the bows of the two periods aren't so different from one another. In both, the bowstave is set horizontal with respect to the stock to which it's attached, and drawn to be latched into a trigger-actuated mechanical release.

The modern compound crossbow is fitted with limbs composed of synthetic materials. Its cams and pulleys amplify the draw force such that a 150-pound draw weight at 10 inches of draw translates to kinetic energy of 80 foot-pounds.

With the crossbow of the Middle Ages, the bowstave (called in medieval times a "prod") was made of spring steel. Prior to the mid-14th century, all bows featured prods constructed by laminating wood, sinew, and leather, but most revivalists opt for the reliable, unfussy steel version. Lacking force-multiplying cams and pulleys, the medieval bow imparts substantially less kinetic energy to the bolt than does its 21st-century counterpart.