Kids and the Outdoors
I can remember more vividly than most of my memories the times my dad took me out to the woods before I started deer hunting. A few small game hunts, a few scouting missions for rifle season, a handful of fishing trips – those are some of my greatest childhood memories. I can recall every rabbit we kicked up, every pheasant flushed, every deer we saw, and every fish we caught. Even after 40 years, I can recollect a play-by-play of it all. I can’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, most times, but those memories are burned into my brain.
I vividly recall the time my Dad, my brother Fred, and I rented a rowboat from Farmkrueg’s bait shop in Menasha, WI, and paddled out on Little Lake Butte des Morts.
I was maybe 7 years old. My brother and dad both caught a smallmouth bass. I caught a nice perch and something that, as a 7-year-old, I thought must have been the biggest fish ever. It pulled my rod under the boat, and I couldn’t contain the behemoth, and the line snapped (it was probably a carp, but I was a kid). Read More
