"I Had No Idea What I Was Doing, But I Was Doing It" — Staysha's Story

A Northern California mum of three who taught herself to bow hunt from a box, a bow shop and a whole lot of YouTube — and who's learning that the misses teach you just as much as the hits.

Staysha Smith didn't come to hunting through a family tradition or a partner who handed her a rifle. She came to it because she wanted to learn something hard. In December she opened a box with her first compound bow inside, knew nothing about it, and decided she'd figure it out. By August she was sitting alone in the dark on a friend's property, waiting for the sun to come up on her very first bow season.

What we love about Staysha's story is that she doesn't pretend to have it sorted. She's missed a buck at fifteen yards, lost sleep thinking she'd wounded an animal, and let a perfect shot walk because it was beyond what she trusts herself to make. And she's talked through every bit of it with her three boys around the dinner table.

A Backyard That Was a Forest

Most Aussies picture California as beaches and sunshine. Staysha grew up in Northern California, where it snows and her backyard was basically a forest — hiking, fishing, hunting, rivers and lakes all on the doorstep. She can drive to the coast to surf and be home in time to snowboard.

Weekends meant the river, and soccer ran all the way through high school. But the outdoors belonged to two people above all: her dad and her grandpa.

Her grandpa had taken her dad fishing as a boy, and when Staysha came along — an only child for eleven years — she simply tagged along on everything. One of her favourite memories is a hike through marshy ground to a local stream, packed lunches and all, where at six or seven she caught a fish… and absolutely refused to touch it. Her dad insisted she hold it for the photo. She did, bawling her eyes out the whole time. That photo still exists, tears and all.

A Bow, a Box and a Lot of YouTube

Hunting is big where Staysha's from, but she never really grew up around it. Her stepdad had hunted years earlier — out-of-state trips, packing in with mules — but had stepped away from it once he became part of the family. So when the idea of a bow came up, it wasn't about hunting at all. It was about a challenge.

She already knew how to shoot a gun. She wanted something new — to understand every part of a bow, what it's called and why it does what it does. Her stepdad backed her straight away and turned up with a bow for her, then went and bought one for himself too.

Then came the homework: hours and hours of YouTube. Other people's hunts, their successes, their fails, what they did wrong. She had the bow shop set her draw length, then tuned it herself and went deep on cams, releases and everything in between.

Draw length matters, she explains, because the bow has to be set up for your body — get it wrong and it changes how the arrow flies. Draw weight you build up over time; Staysha sits around sixty pounds, and the gym work to hold that is part of the package.

One of the best pieces of advice she was given? Don't just practise at ten to thirty yards. Practise at forty and fifty. At first she was missing the target or landing way off, but once she dialled in at distance and came back to thirty or twenty, it felt easy — which is exactly how a shot on an animal should feel. These days she's comfortable at forty and won't go past fifty.

Fully Diving In

From December to August, Staysha watched, practised and learned. Somewhere along the way the challenge turned into a plan: she was going bow hunting that season. She got her licence, and friends with property close to home gave her somewhere to learn.

She went alone — reading tracks and sign, working out where deer were bedding, learning the terrain and her bow all at the same time. No easing in, piece by piece. She fully dove in.

She barely slept the night before that first sit. She walked in before sunrise, found her spot and waited. And what struck her most wasn't an animal at all — it was the quiet.

Her quarry is mostly blacktail deer, with mule deer around too. California splits hunting into zones, each with its own species and seasons, and up in the high Sierra you can hike for miles before you even start glassing.

Fifteen Yards and a Bad Case of Buck Fever

That first season, Staysha found a buck who teased her all season and had her running all over the hills. She froze the first time she saw him and had no idea what she was doing — but she was doing it.

Her first shot at him came late in the day. She thought she'd hit him. She couldn't find her arrow, called her stepdad out to help, and the two of them searched with a flashlight until there was nothing more to see. Then it rained overnight and washed away any chance of sign. Staysha didn't sleep. The last thing she ever wanted was to wound an animal on her first hunt.

She went back the next day and found the arrow with no sign of a hit — but after the rain she couldn't be sure. That evening, she spotted him again, walking around as if nothing had happened. The relief was enormous.

The second chance came out of nowhere. She was walking out for the evening, ready to give up, when she glassed him up on a ridge. Heart pounding, she dropped down an embankment and worked underneath and around him, hoping to meet him on the other side. It worked — a little too well. They startled each other at about fifteen yards, the closest she'd ever been to a deer.

Trying to stay hidden, she drew with the bow pointed down, then brought it up to find her anchors. Staysha uses three anchor points, always in the same spots — but in the rush, her back anchor sat way too low. The arrow went wide. Her legs were shaking so hard she couldn't stand still, and the adrenaline afterwards was something she says you can't really describe unless you've felt it.

Two shots, two misses, one very educational season.

Talking About the Misses

Staysha is mum to three boys, and the night she thought she'd wounded that buck, she came home upset. The next night, once she'd found him alive and well, she told them the whole story — and they became her biggest little hype crew, reassuring her: it's okay, Mum, you'll get him this year.

The boys have come along to glass and hike through her hunting country (actual hunting with three loud boys, she admits, wasn't going to work). Now they have their own bows, and whenever she's out practising they want in. It's become something the whole family does together.

Season Two: Kneeling, Rucking and a Target Buck

Her zone runs an archery-only window, then a short pause before general season brings rifles in too — and once the gunshots start, the deer get a lot warier.

So this season, the preparation went up a notch. She practises every day she can — and not just standing up. Last year she learned the hard way that in the field you might be crouched behind a tree or down on your knees. Now she shoots seated and kneeling from different angles and yardages, because one small change from your target routine can blow up an entire hunt.

Fitness is the other half: gym Monday to Friday (Carly may have complimented her guns), plus rucking — training in a heavy weighted vest. You can walk miles in before you find anything, and if you're successful, you're walking miles back out carrying a deer.

Her season plan went sideways days before opening. She'd intended to return to last year's property, but then she found a buck somewhere completely different — and he became her target. Scrambling, she set up game cameras for the first time only a few weeks ago. Now she can see where deer are coming and going and thinks she knows where they bed. But the area is small and more open than she'd like, with nowhere to hide, which has made it harder than she expected.

A few weeks before we spoke, she had him. At full draw, she ranged him at fifty-nine, sixty yards. There was no cover to close the gap, and a doe behind her had already picked her out and was staring her down. So Staysha let him go.

As Carly said in the episode, that's true discipline — and it doesn't get talked about enough.

Her Quiet Time

So what keeps her going back? A drive and determination, she says, and the fact that there's nothing like being out in the woods by yourself. It's beautiful, quiet, and it's become her time.

She only understood how much it meant when last season ended. She felt flat and down and couldn't work out why — until a friend pointed out the obvious: hunting season was over. She'd been out every day, sitting until the sun went down, and suddenly that was gone. That was her quiet time, her reflection time.

It's made her a better mum, too. With three busy boys, patience can run thin — but in the field it isn't optional, and she brings it home with her.

Finding Her People

The hardest part has been finding company. There are a few women hunters she's connected with locally, but it's still a male-dominated world, and her husband doesn't hunt. She's learned a lot from the men's stories — she always ends up in the conversations with the husbands about their next trip — but she'd love a group of women to head out with, maybe for a few nights' camping.

Not everyone took her seriously at first. Her husband, she suspects, was hoping it would be a phase — her first season meant he was home with the kids a lot. She thinks some people around town saw just another girl trying something. That only fuelled her.

These days her husband is fully on board — helping with the kids, setting up her game cams and buying her a blind. He grew up with a vegan mum, so wild venison is new territory, but he's had a taste and likes it. Staysha's hoping to fill the freezer.

Homeschool, Horses and No Screens

Staysha homeschools all three boys and still lives where she grew up, so they get the same outdoor childhood she had. If her fishing-obsessed oldest asks to hit the river on a random Tuesday afternoon, they can. Her middle son rides horses and competes in shows, and all three play just about every sport going.

Screens barely get a look-in. She wants them using their imaginations, looking people in the eye and being respectful — and keeping traditions like hunting and fishing alive.

Go Figure It Out

To Staysha, being a woman in hunting is about showing it doesn't have to be a male-dominated thing. She hopes nobody turns away thinking it's just for blokes — and that people see someone brave enough to go after what she wanted. Sailing, hunting, anything: go figure it out.

None of it would have happened without her stepdad. He bought her first bow, went to the bow shop with her, and has become her accountability partner — ringing up to ask whether she's shot today, and pushing her to keep practising. He's already talking about getting her a rifle for next season. Seeing him light up about hunting again, after so many years away from it, has been a gift of its own.

What's next? Hopefully an arrow in that target buck — and she's promised to text Carly the photos the moment it happens. Beyond that, it's simple: keep learning. There's no end point, she says. Even people who've hunted forever are still learning, and that's exactly what she plans to do.

Staysha, thank you for sticking with us through the technical hiccups and for sharing your journey so honestly — the misses, the near misses and everything in between. Whether you like it or not, you're part of the Women Who Hunt family now, so we'll be waiting for that text. Go get him. 🏹