Dad drove the ’37 Chevy with me in the back seat. Grandpa sat in the front seat and rolled his own cigarettes. His tobacco had a distinctive and fairly pleasant smell that was often combined with the sulfur odor of a freshly struck farmer match. These smells in the car mingled with the scent of anise oil (a cover scent used by Grandpa) as we headed to the deer woods.
There was a string of red tail lights leading down the dusty road ahead of us as Grandpa spun yarns about the mystery buck that got away while hunting near Pike Lake during the Twenties. I was 12 and filled with excitement and anticipation. It was my first deer hunt.
EARLY LESSONS
While Dad was my principal instructor when it came to hunting, fishing and trapping, there were a number of lessons from Grandpa that stuck. One of his first lessons was rather like cheating. He pushed up a little mound of sand in the driveway and stood a wooden match
