I didn’t grow up around hunters. I was a city girl. My dad had an old .22 rifle and an old shotgun, but they stayed in the back of his closet, and as far as I know, they haven’t been fired since before I was born. I heard stories from both parents about their dads going hunting to put meat on the table, but as far as I was concerned, meat came from the butcher counter at the supermarket, wrapped in plastic. (more…)
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