A gentle sleep comes to an end. I open my eyes to the darkened room and in the stillness I hold my breath and listen. The voices of coyotes meet my ears. Their wails travel through the frozen trees and across the hardened snow. Their
Bowfishing is more like combining Rambo’s exploding arrowheads with a splash-filled romp through a swamp writhing in monster fish. And the results look like something out of one of those chainsaw massacre movies, but with more blood and gore.
