I clearly remember my first deer hunting adventure with dad. We packed up early, thermos of hot chocolate in hand, and plunked ourselves on the ground on the edge of a quiet hayfield to wait. Waiting turned into napping, and napping turned into a full morning asleep in the grass. I was in grade school, and the only thing we saw that day was the backs of our eyelids. In college, I decided to give hunting a go again when I found an old gun abandoned in my uncle's garage. I cleaned it, grabbed some coveralls, and dropped a buck from 100 yards on the first morning of my first solo hunt. I've never looked back.