My great grandpa lived off the woods... Raised his whole family trapping and running coonhounds and picking ginseng, cohosh andgoldenseal...for pennies on the dollar. I loved talking to him - listening to his stories. I still marvel at that guy'sknowledgeand appreciation of nature. Weird how 60-70 years changes our outlook on things.

He died about 10 years ago at age 80, having killed more coons than most people will ever see, and picked more ginseng than I could ever imagine in my wildest dreams... All those years... All those worn out boots... and never once did helevel the sights ona whitetail.

I'd ask Pap about whitetail hunting, and he'd just crackthat wry smile and say "Boy, you go run your trapline and leave those deer alone. You'll get more meat off of those coons than a family will ever eat."

Pap ate coon... No indoor plumbing either. LOL Raised 5 kids like that and lost one topneumonia. Old School. Loved baseball and nature. Shooting an animal like a whitetail was a wanton waste of a beautifulliving thing, especially when there were plenty of edible roadkills laying around, if you're hungry.

To him, a fun time in the woods was a 4-day trip back across the Laurel Highlands with hiscoonhounds, wicker frame pack,2 dozen dyed Victors, a .22and a carbide light. Deer and bear weren'tthings thatyou hunted for sport.Whitetails were just mother nature's window dressing - you could always look, but younever, evertouched.