My dad started taking me hunting with him when I was 5. I started hunting with a crossbow when I was 6. From then until I was out of high school my dad would wake up to go huntingandknock on my door to wake me up. Sometimes I would get up, sometimes I would sleep in. As I went through adolescence my priorities changed more often than my underwear. We would always have a couple of weekend trips a year where we would spend 3-4 days in southern Ohio. I may not have been all geeked out about hunting then, but my dad never pushed. If I wanted to go, great, if not, fine with him. Eventually, I came to love hunting, and I think a big part of the reason is he let me discover it on my own terms.

Now I have a son and while he is only a year and a half old, I am anxious for the same weekend trips with my son as I had with my dad. With luck, it can be a 3 generations event. I hope that he can one day learn to love hunting as much as his grandfather and I do, but if not, at least he will have all the memories of the time with us. In the end, that is what I am most concerned about.