Nothing much happened in 1982. People did stuff, some didn't and other things happened that, whilst possibly remarkable at the time, no one cares about now. But it was a momentous year in one small town north of Adelaide, South Australia...
Here's the story.
The crossbow bolt flew through the air, not on a totally straight trajectory, but true-enough to find its mark..."Thunk!" The innocent victim fell to the ground flailing in pain on the way down and, once on the ground, rolling about slightly until it finally it stopped. Dead.
I stood in horror staring at the dead thing. It was the first thing I'd killed larger than a spider or ant and I felt sick. The crossbow went limp in my hands as my arms dropped to my side and I just stood, mutely staring at my crossbow bolt sticking up out of the dead magpie.
From out of nowhere I could hear a banging, a persistent rhythmic drumming, and pulling my eyes away from the dead bird I turned to find its source...Oh no...Mum banging on the window of the kitchen to get my attention. This was not going to go well at all.
A few days early the twelve year old me had decided I just had to have a crossbow.
I had no need for it. I was not going to join the Balestrieri genovesi, the famous mercenary-force of crossbowmen who served Genoa and as paid-fighters in conflicts through the Middle Ages.
I wasn't even going to assassinate my father in a Tyrion Lanister-Game of Thrones power-play and neither was I Daryl from The Walking Dead. No, I was a pretty typical twelve-year-old country boy just making up my own fun - Fun which I had decided would come by way of a crossbow.
Back to the story.
I gathered the wood over the space of a couple days making sure that the pieces were going to work, the grains ran the right direction and there was no knots in the timber - There'd be some serious forced involved when firing I figured, although though probably not as much as I hoped.
Fortunately my grandfather was an expert carpenter and wood carving master so there was timber and tools all over the place. [He lived with us at the homestead]. Sneaking it would be the hard part, but my ninja-skills came in useful.
I toiled for a couple days creating [my own version of] dovetailed joints to connect the main stock section to the transverse bow section making sure there was enough strength to it. I had failures and had to adapt and change my design, but after a couple days worked it out in a way my expert twelve-year-old eye liked.
This process happened over a couple days and had to be done in secret or I would get a butt kicking...So, in secret it was. I employed every secret-squirrel-technique I had. It was made easier for the fact that as kids we'd often disappear on our property somewhere for the whole day playing, with mum and dad understanding we were somewhere. Different times I guess.
Back to the story.
We all know that a cross bow is simply a stock of wood [in ye olden dayes] and a transverse-mounted bow on the front with a sear to hold the string and a trigger to fire the bolt. Everyone knows that right? src
The problem was that at twelve the technology to make the sear and trigger work was above my intelligence and technical ability so I had to improvise. Which I did, ending up with no trigger and a sling-shot-style firing process - Crude, but it worked. Come on, I was twelve. Cut me some slack.
My test-firings were successful and, if I had a brain in my noggin at the time, I would have realised that I'd created a powerful weapon capable of killing someone...But I didn't at the time. I just thought it was fucking cool! It certainly wasn't as powerful as a crossbow I might buy today for instance, but it had some punch and was a dangerous bit of kit...In a twelve-year-olds hands.
I started with shooting bolts at tree trunks. [A bolt is what the thing a crossbow fires is called.] It was reasonably accurate with my shots hitting from what I would now say was about 20 meters on a tree trunk about 30 centimetres wide. This meant that at 20 metres it would hit a person somewhere in their chest, or face, leg or arm, fairly indiscriminately depending on where the semi-accurate bolt flew...All in the hands of a twelve-year-old.
It wasn't what I would call accurate but I was enthused by my initial field-testing and over a period of days found smaller targets to practice on until I become quite proficient.
It was during one of these practice sessions a few days later when I spied a live target and, in all my twelve-year-old wisdom felt that the right thing to do would be to shoot it. [I know, I know...Shame on me.] Quite obviously I wasn't smart enough to realise it was the wrong thing to do...Or to make sure mum wasn't watching. Had I been, well maybe things would have been different.
Back to the story.
Down went the hapless bird and for a moment I celebrated how good a shot it was...Then reality bit, hard, and I realised I'd just killed it. I don't know why I thought it wouldn't die before I fired...I guess in my defence I didn't expect to hit a bird way up in a tree in the first place. Now I'd been caught by mum and would have to face whatever was coming...
I stood in place, because mum motioned that I should do so and sure enough, a minute later out trooped mum and dad to rain on my parade crossbow-parade.
Dad grabbed the crossbow and mum grabbed me...I stood there trying to look innocent and well, not achieving it. I copped a smack to the noggin right then, and several more on the way to my room. [Not punches, just light-handed smacks which were punctuating the lecture I was getting.] This was back in the good-old-days when a parent could give their kids a smack.
I was locked in the dungeon my room and left for a couple hours to, "think on what I did". This was curious to me at the time as I had thought my punishment would be much more severe.
My true punishment was handed down later that night after a long lecture about what I had done wrong. I can't be certain but I think that might have been the first time I heard my mum's rule:
- No guns or weapons
- No tattoos
- No motorbikes
Sorry mum, I had one of the three by the age of 20 (guns) and the other two at 30.
My crossbow was broken up, by my grandad, and destroyed and I was made to give the magpie a proper burial with words and all. I actually made a grave marker for it too. I was very regretful...But couldn't see why I couldn't keep the crossbow. I had privileges removed, chores loaded on top of existing ones and was placed under closer supervision for a time. It relaxed eventually though, and my creative ways came out again. And again. And again.
It wasn't until years later that I found out how impressed my grandfather actually was with the way I'd crafted that weapon; My parents too actually. Of course, they never condoned my actions and looking back now I wouldn't if I was a parent either. I'd administer many smacks.
My youth was spent doing stupid things like this and getting disciplined for it with smacks, denial of things like dinner, my Lego or my pushbike plus grounding which probably hurt the most. I also had to work harder. I deserved it though and am better for it; Meaning I understand responsibility, logic, ownership and the fact that few actions come without reactions.
I wasn't a bad kid I think. I was smart, played multiple musical instruments, read widely, played several sports, had manners and courtesy, patience and was generous and reasonably good-natured...I was actually a funny little kid too...Quick with a joke, or quip and easy to smile or so I'm told...But yes, I had my moments and shooting that bird wasn't my finest.
As a childless couple my wife and I will never get to discipline a child but if I did I think I'd do it in the same way my parents did...None of my punishments caused any real harm to me and I think I turned out ok. I'd also want my child to be as inquisitive and inventive as I was. As curious about things, all things.
I grew up ok I think. I have respect for life and when I take it there's no pleasure involved, it's just me doing a job. I don't use a crossbow these days but...I still want to build on...
Tomorrow isn't promised - Design and create your ideal life, don't live it by default
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