For Joshua Hood, a 35-year-old Klamath-Modoc descendant, a Pacific yew tree represents far more than just the raw material for a bow; it embodies a profound connection to his ancestors, a testament to balance and tension, and a way of life intrinsically linked to his heritage. This deep respect for tradition is reflected in his chosen name, nteys s?odt’a, meaning "bow worker" in his tribe’s language, a title that has become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Hood dedicates his work to crafting custom bows and leading workshops on traditional bow-making and archery, primarily for students from Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) communities in Portland, Oregon. His commitment extends to a nonprofit organization focused on teaching youth essential outdoor skills, weaving every facet of his endeavors around the timeless art of archery.

Hood’s workshops are open to all, with announcements often made through his Instagram account. His work addresses a significant need within BIPOC outdoor education, particularly at a time when government funding for programs supporting historically marginalized communities has faced reductions. As the broader "primitive skills" movement, encompassing bushcraft, toolmaking, and wilderness survival, increasingly gravitates towards expensive courses and exclusive retreats, it often overlooks its Indigenous origins. Hood actively works to decolonize the transmission of Indigenous archery knowledge, striving to keep participation costs accessible and creating a welcoming space for individuals who may not feel at home in mainstream archery communities. "There aren’t a lot of Native folks doing this type of work," Hood observed, noting that their presence is less abundant compared to non-Indigenous practitioners who currently dominate the "skills" landscape. While high-end bow-making courses can command prices of $1,500 or more for a few days of instruction, Hood offers his three-day workshops for $500 to $750, emphasizing his commitment to making this knowledge accessible without financial strain on participants. "I have to put food on the table and keep the lights on, but I’ve been able to do this work without breaking the pockets of our participants," he stated.

Hood’s journey into bow-making began in his late teens while he was teaching at a survival school. A colleague there led bow-making clinics, which Hood eagerly joined to acquire a new skill. However, the experience left him wanting more. The methods employed involved power tools, which Hood didn’t have access to outside of the class, and the wood was sourced from commercial lumberyards. "I wanted to be able to do this like my ancestors did it, without going to Home Depot to get the lumber," he explained. Initially, he experimented with ash saplings, shaping them with a whittling knife, and gradually honed his craft using hatchets, draw knives, and other hand tools, aiming to replicate the entire process from wood gathering to finished bow.

The meticulous process of bow-making for Hood starts with the careful and mindful selection of wood. Early in his career, he worked with hazel, ash, and dogwood. He now prefers harder woods such as osage orange, black locust, and Pacific yew, or ts’ Pinksham, as it is known by the Klamath-Modoc Tribe and their traditional choice for bow construction. However, due to concerns about overharvesting, Hood reserves ts’ Pinksham for bows made for himself or fellow tribal members.

Before harvesting any wood, Hood leaves an offering of tobacco as a gesture of respect and reciprocity. Having embraced sobriety in 2019, he attributes his enhanced ability to form deeper connections with the trees he harvests to this personal journey. He emphasizes the importance of seeking permission from the tree, stating, "We take a life from something very precious, that gives us oxygen, and then it just kind of sits in a void. The spirit of that tree is like, ‘Where am I going next? Am I going to be firewood, or am I going to be made into something, or am I just going to sit, and get eaten by bugs?’" Following the harvest, the wood, known as a "stave," is allowed to cure for approximately nine months, a period Hood likens to a baby’s gestation. Once the stave is ready, Hood initiates a ceremony to honor it before commencing the woodworking.

"We let it know what our intentions are for it, and then we smudge it with cedar, give a prayer, and try to welcome it into a new form that can teach us how to restore balance to our lives," he explained, referencing the critical need for the bow’s limbs to be balanced for accurate arrow projection. "To have some type of vision, to see a bow in a piece of wood that otherwise normally just looks like a big stick, it’s like a mirror. How do we have vision for where we’re going?"

Vee, Hood’s apprentice who requested her last name be withheld, also views bow-making as a powerful metaphor for envisioning a more hopeful future. She began her journey with Hood in the fall of 2023, two years after experiencing the profound loss of her brother to gun violence. Hood provided a supportive, brotherly presence, and the following spring, she returned to study bow-making and assist with workshops. "We take a tree that was once living and bring it back to life in a new form, one shaped by who we are," Vee shared. "I’ve seen people come in with hopes of making a bow and walk away with a little more soul, having tended to some of their wounds. Our world is medicine, and healing can be so simple."

Hood understands that distilling such meaningful practices into an educational course requires ample time, and he encourages each student to proceed at their own pace. Consequently, some three-day workshops conclude before a student has fully completed their bow, allowing them to return and finish their work independently. "Patience is a big value in bow-making," Hood advises. "Nothing sacred should be rushed."

Upon the completion of their bows, Hood guides participants through archery practice, fostering a safe and mindful environment for them to learn to use their newly crafted instruments. His certification as a USA Archery instructor also enables him to teach archery in school settings.

In September, Hood, alongside co-founder Joshua Tuski, launched Learning Through Land, a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing outdoor skills classes for youth in the Portland metropolitan area. While archery and bow-making form the core of their curriculum, they also plan to offer instruction in arrow-making, hide-tanning, knife-carving, and friction fire-starting. Hood and Tuski aspire to enrich young lives by imparting these practical skills and the profound wisdom that accompanies them. "These are fun and important skills, but also we want to have conversations with students about how they can impact our daily lives," Hood stated. "There are always teachings within teachings."

Hood’s ultimate aspiration is to one day harvest an animal on his tribe’s traditional homelands using a bow he crafted himself, a deeply symbolic full-circle moment. Until then, he remains dedicated to refining his own mastery of the craft and taking immense pride in empowering others to do the same. "This is in everyone’s DNA," Hood asserted. "We just have to wake it up."