For Joshua Hood, a Pacific yew tree is far more than mere lumber; it represents a profound connection spanning generations, a testament to the delicate balance of tension and rest, and a living embodiment of the lifeway that links him to his Klamath-Modoc ancestors. This deep spiritual and practical understanding is reflected in his tribal name, nteys s?odt’a, meaning "bow worker." At 35, Hood has transformed this ancestral appellation into a self-fulfilling prophecy, dedicating his life to the art of traditional bow-making and archery. He not only crafts custom bows but also leads courses that introduce predominantly BIPOC students in Portland, Oregon, to the intricacies of this ancient practice. His work extends to a nonprofit organization focused on equipping youth with essential outdoor skills, demonstrating how every facet of his professional endeavors is interwoven with the rich tapestry of traditional archery.

Hood’s classes are open to all, with announcements disseminated through his Instagram account, fostering an inclusive environment. His efforts address a critical gap in outdoor education for BIPOC communities, particularly at a time when funding for programs supporting historically marginalized groups has faced significant reductions. As the broader primitive skills movement, encompassing bushcraft, toolmaking, and wilderness survival, increasingly trends towards high-cost courses and exclusive retreats, it often overlooks its foundational Indigenous roots. Hood’s commitment to decolonizing the transmission of Indigenous archery knowledge, while simultaneously ensuring affordability, offers a vital sanctuary for individuals who may not feel at home in conventional archery spaces. "There aren’t a lot of Native folks doing this type of work," Hood observes, noting the disparity in representation compared to established practitioners in the broader "skills" world. He contrasts the prohibitive cost of many bow-making courses, which can exceed $1,500 for a few days of instruction, with his own three-day workshops, priced between $500 and $750. "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 states, emphasizing his dedication to accessibility.

Hood’s journey into bow-making began in his late teens, while working at a survival school where a colleague conducted bow-making workshops. Though eager to learn a new skill, Hood found the experience unfulfilling. The methods relied on power tools and commercially sourced lumber, a stark contrast to the traditional approaches he yearned to explore. "I wanted to be able to do this like my ancestors did it, without going to Home Depot to get the lumber," he explains. Initially, he experimented with ash saplings and a whittling knife, gradually progressing to hatchets and draw knives, mastering the use of hand tools. "I wanted to be able to do this process wherever I gathered the wood," he asserts, underscoring his desire for self-sufficiency and connection to the natural materials.

The meticulous process of bow-making for Hood commences with the careful and deliberate selection of the wood. While he has previously worked with hazel, ash, and dogwood, he now favors denser hardwoods such as osage orange, black locust, and the Pacific yew, or ts’apinksham in the Klamath-Modoc language, the tribe’s traditional choice for bow construction. Recognizing the current vulnerability of the Pacific yew to overharvest, Hood reserves its use for bows crafted for himself or other individuals of Klamath-Modoc descent.

Before harvesting any wood, Hood performs a ritual of reciprocity, leaving an offering of tobacco. His personal journey towards sobriety, embraced in 2019, has deepened his connection to the trees he harvests, allowing for more meaningful interactions. He stresses the importance of seeking permission from the trees, acknowledging the profound act of taking a life from a vital organism that sustains the planet. "We take a life from something very precious, that gives us oxygen, and then it just kind of sits in a void," he reflects. "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, Hood allows the wood to cure for approximately nine months, describing the process as akin to a "baby in the womb." Once the cured piece, known as a stave, is ready, Hood initiates a ceremonial preparation 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 explains, drawing parallels between the balanced limbs of a bow and the restoration of balance in one’s life. "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," he muses. "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 brighter future. Having experienced the profound loss of her brother to a gunshot wound two years prior, Vee found solace and a sense of purpose in Hood’s teachings. She created her first bow under his guidance in the fall of 2023 and returned the following spring to deepen her study and assist with workshops, viewing Hood as a brother figure. "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 shares. "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 champions a philosophy of unhurried learning, believing that each student should progress at their own pace. The three-day course structure is flexible, allowing participants to return and complete their bows if the initial period concludes before their work is finished. "Patience is a big value in bow-making," Hood emphasizes. "Nothing sacred should be rushed."

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

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

Ultimately, Hood harbors a long-held aspiration to harvest an animal on his tribe’s traditional homelands using a bow he has personally crafted. He views this as the ultimate realization of his life’s work. Until that day arrives, 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 states with conviction. "We just have to wake it up."