The shelf handle is well worn from hundreds—thousands—of arrows being shot off it. The red paint is scratched, and the fiberglass limb tips are a bit worn. Yet, the white Fox head logo still stands out brightly. The bow isn’t brand new anymore, but it still shoots like it is. It has the character that a bow tends to accumulate when it’s well-loved and well-used.

I think that every bowhunter holds fond memories of their first bow. The “Little Red Bow” is something extra special.

My father, Joe Garris, with the Little Red Bow the Christmas it was received.

The story of this bow began many years ago, before I was born. It was my dad’s first bow, a Christmas present when he was 11 years old. For the first year he had it strung backwards (not knowing any better and having no adult archers to mentor him), until one day he saw a picture of Fred Bear and realized how the bow should be strung. My dad shot hundreds of arrows at targets and hay bales and apparently put a few holes in my grandpa’s garage. Dad didn’t come from a family of hunters. Yes, many of our ancestors were hunters, but no one that my dad knew well could teach him to hunt. And so, this was the bow that sparked the love for archery and eventually the love for bowhunting that lives on to this day. That love for archery and bowhunting was then passed on to my brothers, sisters, and I and is a legacy that continues to live on in the next generation of our own children.

It was my first bow. My brothers and I spent countless hours shooting at paper targets tacked to a foam bale with many arrows getting lost in the tall weeds behind the intended target. My siblings and I had two traditional bows that we were allowed to use whenever we wanted, the Red Fox that was my dad’s bow, and a Yellow Fox that belonged to one of my uncles. The red one was mine. I wasn’t a great shot. As kids, I don’t think we often care much about consistency and form, archery was purely about fun, not so much about accuracy. I clearly remember one day having to pull fletchings from my wrist after my arrow bounced off my arm on release. Still, I continued to shoot the Little Red Bow until I was too big and too old to shoot it. However, the love for archery didn’t stop there. When I was 16 years old, I decided to take up bowhunting after being a gun hunter for the past six years. Bowhunting opened up a whole new world for me, and I found something I was truly passionate about and enjoyed. It wasn’t until later in life that I once again found myself longing for the simplistic way of hunting that can only come from hunting with a traditional bow. At the age of 26, I decided to ditch the compound and fully switch over to a stickbow. I haven’t looked back since, and I often recall fond memories of the Little Red Bow that started it all.

Isabella learning the concept of draw and release with a little help from Mama.

A few years ago, when I was pregnant with my daughter, I found myself daydreaming of the day my child would be able to shoot a bow and hunt alongside me. Most likely, every hunting parent has daydreamed about the same thing. Once my daughter, Isabella, was born the idea occurred to me that it would be an amazing thing to have her start shooting with the Little Red Bow. I decided to ask my dad if he would be willing to let me borrow the bow when she was old enough to shoot.

“No,” my dad said. “I’ll give it to you!” And he did; he gave me both the red and yellow bow that my brothers, sisters, and I grew up shooting. The dream of having my daughter shoot the bow that my father and I had both used was fulfilled. It’s Isabella’s first bow, the first one she has ever shot. There’s a lot to be said about the memories and the legacy of the Little Red Bow, and it’s something to be cherished. My daughter is currently just two years old, which if you ask most people, is far too young to be shooting a bow. I have never pushed archery on her; I want her to come to love it on her own terms. She has been with me for many practice sessions, and on many hunts, content to sit in her backpack carrier and watch the world around her. Then, one morning as I was getting my longbow out to head to the archery range and practice, Isabella asked for her bow. She knew exactly which one was hers. I had told her many times that when she was old enough, she would be able to shoot the “Red Bow.” I had assisted her in shooting it a few times, but she was so little that she wasn’t completely interested in it yet. But, early that summer morning, she decided that she was ready.

The bow is taller than her and the arrows are nearly as tall as she is. Yet, that doesn’t stop her from wrapping her tiny fingers around the bowstring, clutching the plastic handle that is so discolored from all the sweaty hands that have clutched it in years gone by. I don’t think her little arms could have been pulling more than a few pounds, but the arrow stuck into the target and quivered there in place and her face was triumphant with success. And just like that, her love for archery was born. The third in the line of the legacy.

I have always said that I will be proud of her no matter what path she takes in life, but there is something special about seeing your child follow in your footsteps and of those before you. We get a lot of double takes and surprised faces when we go to the local outdoor archery range as she skips past the compound shooters, curls bouncing, her arrows rattling in her back quiver. You can’t help but smile when you see her—enthusiasm bubbling over. The focus she has when shooting is something to be seen, and it rivals my own.

She may change her mind when she’s older or lose interest in archery and hunting altogether. And you know what, that will be okay. But I’m hoping that she will continue to love it and carry on the tradition. It’s in her blood.

Beka is a wife and mom, residing in southern Ohio. When hunting season isn’t open, she enjoys gardening, foraging and bowfishing.