My very first memory related to whitetail hunting was when I was 5 years old. It wasn’t your typical first memory of seeing a whitetail hanging from a meatpole in the backyard or even getting to sit in the stand with Dad and feeling the excitement of witnessing my first deer kill. No, instead it was me standing at my mom’s leg in the living room, arms crossed, foot stomping and pouting like the baby I was because my dad decided I was too young to go with him, and instead I got to watch my older brother and sister head to the stand for their first hunt. After that we moved to the city, and the opportunity to hunt with my dad never came back around until now.
If I were to ask my parents which one of their children would grow up to be a hunter, they’d probably tell you none of us, but that’s just what I did. Albeit I was a bit of a late bloomer as I didn’t start hunting until I stumbled into the outdoors industry at age
