When Joshua Hood encounters a Pacific yew tree, he perceives far more than the raw material for a bow; he sees a profound lineage connecting him to his Klamath-Modoc ancestors, a practice steeped in balance, tension, and rest. This deep connection is embodied in his tribal name, nteys s?odt’a, meaning "bow worker." For the 35-year-old Hood, this name has become a self-fulfilling prophecy, guiding his multifaceted work in traditional archery. Beyond crafting custom bows, he dedicates himself to teaching traditional bow-making and archery techniques, primarily to students of color in Portland, Oregon, through his nonprofit, Learning Through Land, which also imparts essential outdoor survival skills. His entire professional life is intricately woven around the practice of traditional archery, a skill that holds deep cultural and personal significance.

Hood’s courses are intentionally inclusive, welcoming all who are interested, with announcements regularly shared on his Instagram account. His efforts address a critical need for accessible Indigenous outdoor education, particularly at a time when funding for programs supporting historically marginalized communities has faced significant reductions. As the broader "primitive skills" movement, often focused on bushcraft and wilderness survival, increasingly shifts towards high-cost workshops and exclusive retreats, it frequently overlooks its Indigenous origins. Hood’s approach actively works to decolonize the transmission of Indigenous archery knowledge while maintaining affordability, creating a vital space for a community that may not feel entirely at home in mainstream modern archery environments. He notes, "There aren’t a lot of Native folks doing this type of work. They aren’t as abundant as our counterparts, who have a chokehold on what you might call the ‘skills’ world." This scarcity is underscored by the stark cost difference: while many bow-making courses can exceed $1,500 for just a few days of instruction, Hood’s intensive three-day workshops are priced between $500 and $750. Despite the need to sustain his livelihood, Hood prioritizes accessibility, stating, "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."

Hood’s journey into bow-making began in his late teens at a survival school, where a colleague offered bow-making clinics. While eager to acquire a new skill, Hood found the experience unfulfilling. The methods relied heavily on power tools he didn’t have access to outside of class and utilized commercially sourced lumber. "I wanted to be able to do this like my ancestors did it, without going to Home Depot to get the lumber," he explained. This desire spurred him to start by shaping ash saplings with a whittling knife, gradually advancing to using hatchets, draw knives, and other hand tools. His aspiration was to master the entire process using tools and materials available wherever the wood was found.

The meticulous process of bow-making for Hood commences with the careful and deliberate selection of the wood. Early in his career, he worked with hazel, ash, and dogwood. More recently, he has gravitated towards harder woods such as osage orange, black locust, and Pacific yew, known in the Klamath-Modoc language as ts’pinksham, the tribe’s traditional choice for bow construction. Recognizing the current risk of overharvesting this particular tree, Hood reserves its use for bows intended for himself or other individuals of Klamath-Modoc descent.

His commitment to respectful engagement extends to the harvesting process; he always leaves an offering of tobacco as a gesture of reciprocity. Hood, who embraced sobriety in 2019, credits this personal journey with fostering a deeper, more meaningful connection to the trees he harvests. He emphasizes the importance of seeking permission from the natural world. "We take a life from something very precious, that gives us oxygen, and then it just kind of sits in a void," he reflected. "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 is allowed to cure for approximately nine months, a period Hood likens to a "baby in the womb." Once the cured piece of wood, known as a "stave," is ready, Hood initiates a ceremonial blessing before commencing the woodworking. He explains, "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." This process highlights the inherent requirement for balance in a bow’s limbs to ensure proper arrow projection. Hood sees this as a metaphor for personal growth: "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. Having experienced the profound loss of her brother to a gunshot wound two years prior, Vee, aged 32, found solace and purpose in bow-making. Hood became a significant supportive figure, and by the following spring, she was assisting him with clinics and deepening her study of the craft. "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 believes that distilling such profound meaning into an educational experience requires time and patience, allowing each student to progress at their own pace. Sometimes, the structured three-day course concludes before a student’s bow is fully complete, prompting them to return and finish their work independently. "Patience is a big value in bow-making," Hood asserts. "Nothing sacred should be rushed."

Upon the completion of their bows, Hood guides his students through archery practice in a safe and attentive environment, enabling them to experience their handcrafted tools firsthand. His certification as a USA Archery instructor further qualifies him to teach archery to children in school settings, extending his impact within the educational system.

In September, Hood, in collaboration with co-founder Joshua Tuski, launched Learning Through Land, a nonprofit dedicated to providing outdoor skills education for youth in the Portland metropolitan area. While archery and bow-making remain central pillars, the organization plans to expand its offerings to include arrow-making, hide-tanning, knife-carving, and friction fire-starting techniques. Hood and Tuski aspire to enrich the lives of young participants by imparting not only these practical skills but also the invaluable wisdom and cultural understanding 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."

Ultimately, Hood harbors a deeply personal ambition: to one day harvest an animal on his tribe’s traditional homelands using a bow he crafted himself. He envisions this as the ultimate testament to his connection and a full-circle realization of his ancestral heritage. Until that day arrives, he remains committed to refining his own mastery of the craft and finding immense pride in empowering others to embark on their own journeys of traditional archery. "This is in everyone’s DNA," Hood declared. "We just have to wake it up."