Let the gray goose fly!

We have an outfit here in Portland called Trackers, and one thing we love about them is that they have an indoor archery range. Here's Artemis and Diana putting clothyard shafts in French men-at-arms (or the hanging cardboard box, close enough).

The fun part of last Saturday was the range safety officer (that's her on the left in the shot above) added a plastic Gatorade bottle to the box. It made a ridiculously satisfying "WHOCK!" when you hit it. Mind you, if you hit it at just the wrong angle it split your arrow:

Little Miss is quite the sniper (or whatever you call someone who is a dead shot with a bow. Robin Hood?) and regularly outshoots her mom.

I am all over the place. Last Saturday my eye was in and I was knocking the hell out of the targets. But as often as not my shot group looks like one of the Merry Men has been a little too merry. I just don't shoot enough to get the mechanics down solid, so whenever I'm not physically tops my aim suffers.

No real point other than a fun thing to do in Portland, and my Bride as Amazon.