Joshua Hood views a Pacific yew tree not merely as raw material for a bow, but as a profound connection to his Klamath-Modoc heritage, a testament to generations of skilled craftsmanship, and a meditative practice embodying balance, tension, and rest. This deep reverence has led him to embrace his ancestral namesake: nteys s?odt’a, meaning "bow worker" in his tribe’s language. At 35, Hood’s chosen path has become a self-fulfilling prophecy, as he meticulously crafts custom bows and leads traditional bow-making and archery courses, primarily for students from BIPOC communities in Portland, Oregon. His work extends beyond individual creations; he also directs a nonprofit dedicated to equipping youth with essential outdoor skills. Essentially, every facet of Hood’s professional and personal life is interwoven with the rich tradition of archery.

Hood extends a welcoming invitation to all who wish to learn through his courses, which he often announces via his Instagram account. His initiatives fill a critical void in BIPOC outdoor education, especially at a time when federal funding for programs supporting historically marginalized communities has faced significant reductions. As the realm of primitive skills—encompassing bushcraft, toolmaking, and wilderness survival—increasingly gravitates towards high-priced courses and crowded retreats, it frequently overlooks its Indigenous origins. Hood’s commitment to decolonizing the transmission of Indigenous archery knowledge, while simultaneously ensuring accessibility through affordable pricing, cultivates a vital sanctuary for individuals who may not feel entirely at home in more conventional archery settings. "There aren’t a lot of Native folks doing this type of work," Hood stated, observing the disproportionate representation. "They aren’t as abundant as our counterparts, who have a chokehold on what you might call the ‘skills’ world." The financial barrier is a significant factor, with traditional bow-making courses often commanding prices upwards of $1,500 for a few days of instruction. In contrast, Hood’s three-day workshops range from $500 to $750. "I have to put food on the table and keep the lights on," Hood explained, "but I’ve been able to do this work without breaking the pockets of our participants."

Hood’s own journey into bow-making began in his late teens at a survival school where a colleague conducted bow-making clinics. While eager to acquire a new skill, Hood found the experience lacking the depth and connection he craved. The methods employed relied heavily on power tools, which he couldn’t access outside of the 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 expressed. Initially, he experimented with ash saplings, shaping them with a simple whittling knife, and gradually progressed to using hatchets, draw knives, and other hand tools. "I wanted to be able to do this process wherever I gathered the wood," he emphasized, highlighting his desire for self-sufficiency and traditional authenticity.

The meticulous bow-making process for Hood commences with the deliberate and mindful selection of wood. While he has previously worked with hazel, ash, and dogwood, he now favors denser hardwoods such as osage orange, black locust, and Pacific yew, or ts’ipksham in the Klamath-Modoc language, the tribe’s ancestral choice for bow construction. Recognizing the current vulnerability of the Pacific yew to overharvesting, Hood reserves its use for bows he creates for himself or fellow members of the Klamath-Modoc Tribe.

Central to his practice is an act of reciprocity; before harvesting, Hood leaves an offering of tobacco. His journey toward sobriety in 2019, he believes, has deepened his connection to the trees he utilizes. He views seeking permission from the tree as a fundamental ethical consideration. "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 undergoes a curing period of approximately nine months, a phase Hood likens to "a baby in the womb." Once the cured wood, known as a "stave," is ready, Hood initiates a ceremonial blessing 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, underscoring the bow’s inherent need for balance to effectively project an arrow. "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 mused. "How do we have vision for where we’re going?"

Hood’s apprentice, Vee, who requested that her last name be withheld, also perceives bow-making as a potent metaphor for envisioning a more hopeful future. Vee, 32, crafted her first bow under Hood’s guidance in the autumn of 2023, two years after experiencing the profound loss of her brother to a gunshot wound. Hood became a supportive, brotherly figure, and the following spring, she returned to further her study of bow-making and assist with his 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 recognizes that distilling such profound meaning into an educational course requires patience. He prioritizes allowing each student to progress at their own pace, understanding that the three-day format may not always be sufficient to complete a bow. Students are encouraged to return and finish their projects as needed. "Patience is a big value in bow-making," Hood advises. "Nothing sacred should be rushed." Upon the completion of the bow-making process, Hood guides participants through archery practice, fostering a safe and focused environment for them to learn to use their newly crafted bows. His certification as a USA Archery instructor further enables him to teach archery in school settings.

In September, Hood, in collaboration with 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 remain central to their curriculum, the organization also plans to offer instruction in arrow-making, hide-tanning, knife-carving, and friction fire creation. Hood and Tuski aspire to profoundly enrich the lives of young people by imparting these practical skills and the deep 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 remarked. "There are always teachings within teachings."

Ultimately, Hood harbors a long-held ambition: to harvest an animal on his tribe’s traditional homelands using a bow he has made himself. He views this as the ultimate realization of a full-circle journey. Until that day arrives, he remains dedicated to refining his own craft and finding fulfillment in empowering others to do the same. "This is in everyone’s DNA," Hood asserted, emphasizing the innate human connection to these ancestral practices. "We just have to wake it up."