Kind of like fishing.
Kind of like hunting.
Kind of like skeet shooting.
An insane amount of fun.
What it is not:
For the faint of heart.
A spectator sport.
A relaxing day on the river.
Without inherent danger.
It's probably an accurate statement that we ended up with more Asian carp jumping into the boat than we actually shot, but they all count, right? I only made it for the afternoon and I'd estimate there were 25 or so fish arrowed between the six of us. I ended up sticking 6.
Normally, accuracy counts, especially in bowhunting. But this is a completely different animal! The boat is traveling about 10mph, the fish are jumping along with the both, away from the boat, at the boat, horizontally, vertically, diagonally, and every other possible direction! And you have about 2 seconds from the time they emerge until the time they slip back into the murky depths to raise, draw, and fire your bow. Aiming is an afterthought. It's purely instinctive.
My favorite moment from the day was when two 15-pounders attacked the boat captain simulateously from over the side. He jumped up from his seat behind the console as one thrashed around on the dashboard, hitting the throttle. The other was slapping him in the feet. The first fish then flopped into a net that was hanging over the edge of the boat, sending it and it's slimy contents into the river. By the time anyone realized what had happened, the net was 20 yards behind the boat, sinking in it's wake. I grabbed my bow and fired at the last spot I had seen the shaft of the net before it disappeared as a last ditch effort. And incredibly, when I started to reel the arrow back in, I felt a tug at the end of the line. I got it! The fish somehow managed to escape, however.
I'm sure we will return again next year for another adventure, just as soon as our carp-inflicted wounds heal.
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