One Nation, Under God
I didn’t shoot my first deer until I was 21, but I was blooded at 12.
And it wasn’t blood from a deer that my father smeared on my face, but blood from a rabbit.
We didn’t hunt deer when I was a kid. They were few and far between in Indiana back then. Instead I was raised hunting small game -- rabbits, squirrels, and quail.
I don’t remember exactly where I got my first rabbit, but I do recall my father dabbing his fingers in the critter’s blood and marking my face with it. He told me I was a hunter now or something to that effect. I’m sure it meant more to him than it did to me. I was just gla...
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