I can relate to your memories of hunting early in my life. We live and worked on my family dairy farm here in West Tenn. I can remember going to our hardware store and they would sell me a handfull of .410 shells. I spent every fall Saturday morning slipping as quietly as a 10 yr old could through several acres of hardwoods, man those trees seemed a mile high then. The smell of oak and hickory. With my hand in my down filled vest holding 4-5 of those shells, rolling them around in my hand. My other hand holding my bolt action savage .410.
I can remember the first deer I killed. A small basket rack 6pt. My father, a shell shocked Vietnam Vet. Never hunted from any tree stand. We were in a patch of honey suckle, watching several does mingle into a cut silage field, then there he was! It was a little foggy, squirrels making a ton of racket. Looking down that skinny barrel of that same old savage .410 , the bead covering his whole shoulder, shaking so bad. Then the shot. Dad said, with an expletive , " You missed him " then I waited, shaking uncontrollably while dad walked to the spot the young buck had been standing. With just a wave, dad had found hair. 75 yards later, I was crying, dad was hugging, and I think, his eyes were watering as well, we stood over my buck.
No matter what, I may have bought into the scent blocker, range finders, camo, all the new must have stuff. Every time I step out of my newer truck, put on my new backpack, grab that new bow or rifle, and head off into that familiar woods or field, that smell, oak and hickory, I immediately am transformed back to that time. Don't get me wrong, some of the stuff I still use is some the same old I had then, that savage for one, I do understand your thoughts on hunting in today's time. But I will never give up that feeling I get when get out there. Rest in peace, my dad, James Plunk Proud Vietnam Vet. You never let them win!