It’s interesting how life goes. I didn’t grow up in a hunting family but somewhere, somehow, along the way hunting became one of my true passions. I think my father had a deep respect for nature, but he worked long hours to support the family and didn’t have the time to enjoy it as much as he would have liked. I can recall only a few family camping and hiking trips to the mountains when he really got away. The same goes for his dad, my grandfather.
Looking back on it, I think my first desire to hunt started with my brother, who’s five years older. I was around 13 the August my brother turned 18, the age someone could legally hunt unattended by an adult. Until then, I never really knew my brother had an interest in hunting, but that November after killing a doe he came
