“What was that?”
“Aw…” I flexed my white oak board bow to quarter draw and inspected it. “It lifted a splinter, right under the backing.”
It was a beautiful fall day, and I was stump shooting with the first two bowyers I met since I had made my own board bow a few months before. We were in a creek bed shooting at an old can on the ground, and after my shot we all heard my bow crack.