When I was about 9 years old, my Dad's friend Bill began taking his son Sam and me to a shooting range and teaching us how to shoot. He was very strict with us, and taught us well. He gave each of us a little NRA shooting safety pamphlet for kids. After a couple of years of that, he began taking us hunting. Rabbits at first, then pheasant and quail. At that time, there were very few deer in this area of Indiana, and I don't think there was even a hunting season for them, although I could be wrong about that. My fathers idea of the great outdoors consisted of the barbecue grill in the back yard, but Bill more than made up for that. He taught us to respect the land and leave it as good or better than we found it. He taught us not to waste any part of a game animal, even if that only meant leaving parts for the scavengers and completing the natural circle of life... Further, he taught us to respect the wild game. Every time we took a bird or rabbit, Bill had us stop and give thanks for the animal, for it's spirit, and for the food it would provide... Bill is gone now, but I can sincerely say "thanks Bill, I remember and love you for the time you spent with me when I was but a small boy"....