Sir,
Thanks for the kind words.

I consider myself to be blessed among men.
There have been trials and tribulations, but for the most part I've had a story-book life. Not trying to be maudlin, but nowhere else but the good ol' USA could a fellow who's lineage is common as clay like mine have such a wonderful life.

My step-grandfather on my mother's side was a scoutmaster and by time I was six, I could whittle, build a fire and twist rabbits out of a hole with a forked stick.

I've come full circle. All the things my grandfather did with me I've been able to do with my son who is now 31 and started hunting with me when he was six, and now am getting to do with my grandsons.

I�ve found that particularly when they are young, a quality experience is much more important than quality equipment. I can take GB4 across the street to the detention pond, both of us pick up a pocket full of rocks, and walk down to the culvert. He loves to drop rocks into a hole on top down into the water below and listen to the "kerplunk". We will toss rock at minnows till we run out, then go get some more. I can cut a willow limb and skin off all the branches, we will walk around the block and he will put that limb down every hole in every man hole cover.

Here's the same little fellow washing the spokes on his daddy's rims. He's actually pretty good at it.

[Linked Image]

Best,

GWB

Last edited by geedubya; 07/11/13.

A Kill Artist. When I draw, I draw blood.