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THE EVERYDAY HUNTER: Growing Up With Guns

January 5, 2013
The Times Observer

It was a cold December 2, 1963. The snow was thigh-deep and heavy on the trees. Although I was only 11, my fledgling scouting skills throughout the summer and fall indicated lots of deer were living on our 22 acres in Scandia, so I pestered Dad until he agreed to include me in the opening day of buck season.

 
 

 

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