Oct. 25, 1913. 
FOREST AND STREAM 
531 
The Point of Aim and Other Mechanical Expedients 
By DR. CALVIN S. CASE 
A T the last annual dinner of the Chicago 
Archery Club I was asked to write an 
article to be published in the Forest and 
Stream, expressive of my ideas relative to the 
“point of aim.” 
I am aware of the difficulties which con¬ 
front one who attempts to change any written 
or unwritten rule that has been established by 
many years of traditional usage. This perhaps 
is especially true of archery, because of the 
sentimentalism interwoven with golden legend¬ 
ary strands, through the time-honored chival¬ 
rous deeds of skill told in song and story from 
the days of Robin Hood, and most dear to every 
true lover of the art. 
We delight to recall the feats of skill of 
those early archers, who, it is said, could raise 
the long bow and let fly a shaft with unerring 
precision, conscious of nothing but intent to 
hit the object aimed at upon which their eyes 
and every thought for the moment was con¬ 
centrated. 
No vulgar mechanical details of exactitudes 
relative to distance, length of pull, poise of 
arrow, points of aim, etc., consciously marred 
the beauty of those sacred moments when the 
arrows took their happy flight. 
The requisite combination of subconscious 
movements which entered into those beautiful 
acts of accuracy and skill, was doubtless that 
which is experienced to a more or less extent, 
by all skillful archers of to-day, and which, 
perhaps, carries the various factors of the act 
as accurately to their places, as the forces that 
unconsciously carries the hands and fingers of 
an accomplished musician accurately to position 
with no thought to physical detail. 
We like to think that the highest art of real 
archery is a poem, a harmonious combination 
of movements composed principally of instinctive 
intuitiveness, and not one which is dependent 
upon mechanical requirements which we must 
cognize and carry into effect at each act of 
shooting. This has taken such hold of our 
sentimentalities, it is only in recent years that 
archers have been unashamed to acknowledge 
that they resorted to certain mechanical ex¬ 
pedients to improve the accuracy of their aim. 
In these later years of strife in all athletic 
sports for high attainments through competitive 
contests, one god or goddess after another of 
former glory has been tumbled from their time- 
honored pedestals by more and more exact and 
scientific methods for reaching higher results, 
by men who have put into their work some 
factor which has brought it a little nearer to 
an actual science. I venture to say that every 
archer who, through long or continuous prac¬ 
tice, has succeeded in making record-breaking 
scores—however much he may be aided by in¬ 
dividual endowments—has hit upon some special 
system of exact movements and positions which 
he duplicates, or strives to duplicate, in each act 
of putting a shot, and throughout each frame 
of every round. In time this oft repeated com¬ 
bination of movements, each factor of which 
demanded at first definite mental direction, must 
gradually become to a large extent subconscious 
acts of habit. Physiologically speaking, the 
brain has shunted the afferent and efferent nerve 
impulses of thought to the ganglionic centers 
which preside over the activities of the muscles 
in the required vicinity. The motor impulses 
now traveling over oft trodden paths of habit 
do not need to be individually guided, or even 
cognized by the brain, though it unconsciously 
sets them into motion through the machinery 
of thought and endeavor for ultimate results. 
It is at this point of attainment, whenever 
reached, in archery and music, that the per¬ 
former commences to become the real artist 
of his art. 
No very high repeated results in modern 
archery ever has or ever will be attained, except 
through mechanical accuracy of tools and move¬ 
ments. It goes without saying that the bow 
must be perfect in its essentials. I do not mean 
by that that it must be a high priced yew bow, 
because some of the record-breaking scores 
have been made with bows of medium grade, 
the same as some of the most important work 
in astronomy and microscopy has been accom¬ 
plished with the lower power lenses; but it 
must be a bow which imparts no cranky or un¬ 
true movements to well loosened arrows. The 
arrows should be absolutely straight, of the 
same length, weight and poise, and perfectly 
feathered, so as to be true* in their movements 
and exactly alike in a well directed flight, etc. 
And yet after all it is the man behind the gun 
who, if he attains to repeated high scores, 
must have arrived at a combination of move¬ 
ments — consciously or unconsciously — each 
factor of which blends harmoniously into the 
act which he repeats with near mechanical pre¬ 
cision. If it were possible for human machines 
to exactly repeat all the factors on this com¬ 
bination every time, the present entrancing art 
and science of archery would cease to be a 
pleasure and a sport. It would be one of the 
many instances in which too much gold has 
destroyed the real beauty and happiness of lives. 
Fortunately human beings are not made 
that way, for however much skill, steadiness of 
nerve and muscle a man or woman may possess, 
together with that unknown quality which 
comes through individual endowments, the 
normal beating of the heart with the arm ex¬ 
tended—if nothing else'—will sufficiently mar the 
repeated duplication of some one or more of 
the factors of the act of shooting to prevent 
the possibilities of archery deteriorating into 
the trueness of machinery. Then think of the 
. influences at work in high strung individuals 
under the stress of intense competitive desires 
at tournaments. I believe we need have no fear 
of the introduction of any methods within, rea¬ 
son of sport which equalizes the opportunities 
of its votaries by limiting the element of luck, 
and especially not those methods which tend 
to develop instinctive subconscious movements 
along true lines. 
Now the question arises: Are we ready at 
this time to officially legitimize methods not 
unlike those which are adopted in all branches 
of true sport, or shall we go on casting shun¬ 
ning looks and epithets upon those who go out 
of the time-honored paths of our conceptions, 
until they are ashamed to acknowledge that they 
even employ these methods in their private 
practice? 
Last summer I shot a team round over my 
own range with a gentleman who has recently 
shot himself into the zenith, of archery. He had 
shot several ends before I arrived on the 
ground, and looking for my artificial point of 
aim, which was a small piece of white oil-cloth, 
I found it nearer the target than I usually placed 
it, and not imagining he had placed it there, 
cooly placed it at my own point for that dis¬ 
tance, with the explanation that my eyes re¬ 
quired a definite point of aim. The funny part 
of it was, he said absolutely nothing; though I 
soon became conscious that the point from 
which I had taken it was again occupied by a 
small piece of white paper, which he must have 
placed when I was not looking. It is needless 
to say, I was careful not to again disturb it. 
Near the end of the round I said to him: “I 
am glad to see that you employ an artificial 
point of aim as I do.” But he wouldn’t even 
then frankly acknowledge it was of any special 
benefit to him, as he “gazed principally at the 
target when shooting.” Furthermore I have 
been creditably informed that this same gentle¬ 
man in his earlier practice wound a sighting 
point upon his string. Though he has con¬ 
tributed a number of valuable archery articles, 
he has never mentioned either of these acces¬ 
sories, and it may be that he now regards them 
as the rudimentary acts of beginners. In jus¬ 
tice to him, I wish to say, that he has recently 
shot in important contests under the most 
severe trying conditions of wind, with phe- 
nomenaal success, and apparently without any 
of the tabooed aids. 
This instance to which I have hesitatingly 
referred, is only one of many that has con¬ 
vinced me that archers, as a rule, are reluc¬ 
tant to openly acknowledge the employment of 
unusual mechanical expedients, even in their 
private practice, that have not been officially 
legitimized as part of the game, and yet perhaps 
these archers may not hesitate to employ any 
method secretly which they find adds to their 
pleasure and to the earlier acquirement of skill 
without them; because they sooner arrive at the 
subconscious habit of locating exact positions 
which is absolutely necessary to the highest 
skill. The reason for this is simple: No one 
likes to be laughed at as a weakling, or to be 
pointed out as one whose scores are dependent 
upon unusual unsportsmanlike advantage. 
In the purely mechanical field—aside from 
individual endowments—there are three prin¬ 
cipal factors that enter into the act of shooting 
which, I believe, all archers will agree with me, 
are necessary and must be in repeated harmoni¬ 
ous relations to each other with all who make 
repeated high scores, whether the factors are 
separately cognized and striven for at the time 
or not. These factors which form the indis¬ 
pensable combination of skillful archery relate 
to the position and relative length of the sides 
