Found a couple more photos, that along with build details might be useful to someone building a wooden hood.
All the wooden components, short of the strips that provide mounting for the bulb sockets and sides of the splash shield.
I have a miter saw and circular saw, but not a table saw. So my ability to accurately perform long, straight cuts is limited. As much as possible, I designed the hood around the dimensions of lumber available to me. My hood's an inch or two taller than is actually required for internal components because of that; and although I wanted a small profile, I chose to accept this as a compromise.
The only two cuts I could not eliminate that exceeded the limits of my miter saw were trimming the length of the top piece. These were carefully done with the circular saw, and an aluminum angle clamped to the board as a guide; with scrap pieces used to protect the wood from being marred by the C-clamps. The results were visibly off, especially in the angle of the blade; somehow despite being previously set and verified to be 0°. But it had to do.
Assembly. I've never assembled a box before. There's probably some neat tools made specifically for this purpose. But I don't have or know about such things, so I just improvised with what I had on hand.
First I needed a surface with both sufficient flatness and space. My coffee table was the best I could come up with.
I laid the top piece down. It was slightly warped and didn't lay completely flat. So I weighed it down with a couple of paint cans, and a 20lb. chunk of steel; which I have just because I thought an unusually dense object might come in handy some day. It does, with surprising frequency.
Other pieces were put in place. The front and back were slightly warped too, so I needed to force them into place with a straight edge.
For the straight edge, I first tried some structural 2x4's, but they weren't even close to straight. 1x2's were better, with only a slight curvature over their length.
Then I needed to apply force. I stole the ratcheting straps from my dolly, and experimented with adjusting things. I found that with the 1x2's laid flat rather than up, with their curvature facing so they were farther away from the hood at the ends, the right amount of force just flexed everything into place.
The only remaining problem was the short side pieces. With all the force applied at the bottom, there was a slight gap in the joint at the top. The bar clamp easily solved that. A side story about that clamp. It came with my first tank, a 90G which an acquaintance offered me for free. Upon arrival at my house, I found he'd failed to mention it had a partially blown panel. The bar clamp and a slathering of silicone were the only thing keeping it together and leak-free. I never filled it, and sold it to someone who could repair it. But kept the clamp, thinking it might come in handy. Many years later, it finally did.
Having completed the dry fit, I took everything apart. Taped some wax paper on the coffee table to protect it, and act as a glue release. Placed paper towels on the floor to catch glue drips, since the edges of the hood hung off. Slathered a noobishly excessive amount of Titebond II Dark over all edges, and put it back together. Tightened down on the straps gradually, while nudging (banging) things into place. Glue squeezed out everywhere. I wiped up what I could. Let it dry for a day, glued the side mounting strips into place, and waited another day.
All joints were very tight, my clamping scheme was sufficient to ensure that. But there were still some edges that didn't line up. Especially at the sides, where all my errors seemed to have compounded; including my circular saw cuts. Much rough sanding was required to make things perfectly flush, and remove excess glue.
After that, I did roundover routing of outer edges, a little more rough sanding, and on to finishing.
I learned a lot from this. The most important thing is that you can still get great results even if you're not quite sure what you're doing, don't have the right tools, and don't get everything perfect. I sometimes tend to be a perfectionist, which I had to cast aside for much of this; otherwise, I never would have completed it, and maybe never would have even started.