Grew up in Rhode Island during the '40's and '50's. My dad was an outdoorsman, hunter and fisherman. He hunted birds and kept beagles for rabbit hunting. He'd go on an annual Vermont deer hunt with the boys, mostly drinking, but nearly always brought back a deer.
I remember fishing with him. But I taught myself to hunt small game, rabbits, partridge, squirrels, never with dogs. And I took great pride in dressing and preparing meals from the fish and game I brought in. Tanned some hides. Learned my hunting ethics from my dad and from reading Field and Stream, Sports Afield, Outdoor Life.
Hunted a couple times with neighborhood kids. But there was something magical that happened when I went into the woods, alone. It made me a whole different person whose senses were crystal clear. I'd really love to experience that feeling again.
