My first time hunting with my dad must have been in 1993 or ‘94. Dad said he was going hunting and I said I wanted to go. I remember changing into warm clothes and getting in the family van we had at the time. It was bow season and dad was in full camo; he and I went out to where he and a few others would hunt.

The place where we were hunting was a farm that dad and his buddies had known about for a long time. And being that it was the early 1990s, it was where we had permanent stands. These stands were trees that Dad and a few others would drill big boards of two by into the tree and then climb up into a nock in the tree or build themselves a spot to sit.

As we walked out to the stand, Dad was laying down Tinks scent to attract bucks in the area, even though he knew we probably weren’t going to see anything. We get to the stand and he has me climb up first, one two by at a time, with him guiding me up. He wedged me into a forked branch, went back down to get his gear and climbed back up.

There wasn’t much to the day other than that. We didn’t really see anything, which probably was due to me not having any cover scent. At the time I was young and didn’t know much and was just out for the experience.