On a grey mid-spring weekday afternoon in the municipality of Lochristi, northeast of Ghent, the local sports complex slowly comes to life. The football pitch might catch the eye at first, but it is the group gathered on the grass beside it that draws attention. A handful of older men and women, dressed in simple, practical clothing — a few wearing caps — They do not look like the athletes you might expect.
The atmosphere is calm. The only sounds are the soft snaps of bowstrings, the quiet ‘clinking’ of arrows against metal bows, and the murmur of conversation. Shooters stand ready, bows steady, eyes locked on a feathered object perched high above — inside a cage-like structure atop a towering 28-meter pole.
Suddenly, the silence is broken. With a frustrated sigh, a man mutters about the bright sky. “This will make it harder.”
What is Wipschieten?
Outsiders may find it curious, why shoot arrows straight up at a metal cage — called a muit — filled with small wooden birds, known as gaaien?
Known as popinjay shooting, papingo, or simply vertical archery, this centuries-old tradition has deep roots in Flemish culture, dating back to medieval times. In Belgium, the sport is called wipschieten and comes in two forms: staande wip (vertical archery) and liggende wip (horizontal archery).
Standing beneath a shelter for protection, looking skyward at the ‘muit‘ which holds wooden birds, or ‘gaaien‘ — the targets of popinjay archery. Photo: Nathan Verbrigghe and Sian OlislagersA day at Sint-Sebastiaan Lochristi
Founded in 1882, Sint-Sebastiaan Lochristi takes its name from Saint Sebastian, the patron saint of archers. It is one of 220 clubs in Belgium that belong to the Royal National Association of Belgian Wipschutters (Koninklijke Nationale Bond der Belgische Wipschutters, or K.N.B.B.W.). Today, the association still counts around 4,000 members across the country.
Kathleen (60), the club’s administrative secretary, has been involved for 45 years. “It grew from generation to generation, my father-in-law passed it on to me,” she says. Yet even in her family, the tradition is fading. “I have three sons, but none of them took it up.”
She reflects on how things have changed over the years: “Back in my father-in-law’s time, the KNBBW wanted to make wipschieten a prestigious project. Now, the everyday person comes here.”
Wipschieten used to be for citizens of the community from better descent — the butcher, the baker, the well-off. That’s how it was back then.
Daniel (Vice-Chairman)
The Challenges of a Fading Tradition
“The audience tends to be older; we are struggling with that,” Kathleen confesses. “That man over there,” a fellow player points, “is ‘Dreeke,’ he’s turning 90.” The oldest member of the club. While the youngest active member of the club is a 6-year-old girl, she is the third generation in her family to practice the sport.
In recent years, no new members have joined; instead, the club has seen people leave. “People pass away, or they leave for another club, that happens too,” Kathleen explains.
As the club’s treasurer, Erik, passes by after his first round of shooting for the day, he groans, “The first one is a murder on the back,” bending over to rub his lower back.
When asked about the role of youth in keeping this authentic Belgian tradition alive, Kathleen responds that “The youth have no time for this. When young people today play sports, it is in the evening or on weekends, and it’s to play football or cycle, not to do this.”
“Forty years ago, people would take time off to go shoot,” she continues. “But nowadays, that’s no longer possible.”
In the past 45 years, our club has gone from 130 members to just 30. Though only 13 still actively practice the sport, I now participate passively.
Kathleen (Administrative Secretary)
Tweaks to an Ancient Sport
Despite the sport being centuries old, it continues to evolve. Rules are updated regularly. “Just last year, there were changes made. These had to do with the bow sight and the draw weight of the bow,” she introduces. “You’re no longer allowed to shoot using a bow sight; it makes things too easy,” Erik elaborates. “It used to be allowed, but not anymore. Now it’s a general rule, everywhere.”
“You can’t shoot with more than 70 pounds of draw weight,” Erik continues. “With a support stick, the limit is 25. It doesn’t matter so much here today, but at major championships, officials come to check it with calibrated machines, with actual weights.”
“Archery is a very technical sport,” adds Daniel. “You have to stand perfectly still to aim well. The older you get, the harder it is to keep your balance. The pin attached to the feather is really tiny; you have to aim very well.”
Tradition vs Modernity
“Because the sport is constantly evolving, the administration involved has also increased,” Kathleen sighs.
The club of Lochristi doesn’t use computers for this, as they have an older audience, and introducing it hasn’t been easy. “It’s not worth our time,” a club member adds.
“Only recently we have started electronic banking. That was a dramatic shift for the senior members, who still prefer to pay in cash.”
Kathleen (Administrative Secretary)
More Than a Sport
It is not only about the shooting. Today, ten teams compete across six rounds — but not all at once. While one group plays outside, others gather in the club café, waiting for their turn. It’s the task of de Roeper — the announcer (comparable to a referee) — to call the next teams over the microphone. The sound of new teams being called upon echoes through the clubhouse speakers.
“Wipschieten is also about socializing. You talk with each other, have a beer — it’s just good fun.” Kathleen smiles happily.
Future Vision
Speaking to Kathleen about the future of this fading tradition, she expresses a quiet determination: “I want it to continue—because my father-in-law fought so hard for it. It’s emotional.” Still, she acknowledges the challenges ahead. “The board members are getting older, and they don’t like handing over their responsibilities,” she adds.
As the session reaches the four-hour mark, one last arrow arcs into the sky. It misses the popinjay, but the crowd still nods in appreciation. Whether this tradition will survive another generation is uncertain. But for the few still standing beneath the towering pole, looking skyward, it is still worth the shot.
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