jnyork, Very cool story.

My dad gave me my first .22 Marlin when I was 6 yo for my First Holy Communion. My mom almost schitt herself, but dad wouldn't have it any other way. Since then, there's been no turning back. I remember walking behind him or my grandad in their tracks in the snow while they still hunted in the Adirondacks.

Thanks for the thread. I'm finding myself flooded with memories of the two greatest men I've ever known and endless outdoor experiences with them.

My heart's in the mountains, my heart is not here.
My heart's in the mountains, chasing the deer.