On my fathers side of the family back through my great- great grandfather, no one ever owned a gun. On my mothers side nothing is known beyond my great-grandfather, and he never owned a gun. I was the first. It caused alot of grief at home. When I was old enough to hunt alone, I bought my first hunting license and a very old stevens bolt action 20 gauge with lawn mowing money. The gun was so worn out, the bolt stop was gone. Everytime I got a shot and tried to work the bolt for a second attempt, the bolt would fly out the back of the receiver. I don't ever remember getting a second shot at anything.
My father took me to a magistrate friend of his and tried to convince him to come up with a way that he could keep me from hunting.
As I sat there waiting to hear about a law that would prevent me from being allowed to hunt, my dreams were fading rapidly. To my surprise the magistrate asked my dad if I was getting into trouble with alcohol or drugs. Dad asked" what does that have to do with anything"? The magistrate told him if he knew how lucky he was that hunting was what I wanted to do, rather than the things the other kids were doing, he would buy a gun for himself and go with me. That never happened, but he never tried to stop me again.
Dad was a volunteer fireman. He gave his life in the line of duty 2 years ago. I really wish he would have come along with me one time. Just to watch a bird dog work and see the happiness the dog shows while doing what he was born to do would have been enough for me. I think he would have understood then why I do what I do.
Bill
