Adult-Size Consequences

Like many other rural Wisconsin-ites, Ive been hunting since Ive been able to carry a gun. My first firearm was nothing more than a stick that had fallen from the basswood trees that surrounded the homestead and my prey were imaginary deer, bear and other wild and dangerous beasts of the north.

When I was ten, my dad bought me a Daisy Red Rider BB gun and from that point on nothing was safe in my parents yard, including the glass windows on moms bird feeder. I can still remember my words trailing off as I spun my weak defense that I was aiming for the wooden trim piece just below the glass. What made the incident worse was that before they handed the BB gun over to me, my folks had me solemnly swear to obey all the rules of gun safety and, almost as important, to never shoot at anything that had glass, especially the barn windows. My dad and older brothers were sticklers for gun safety, and rightfully so. Even though I knew it was wrong to shoot at the glass of moms bird feeder, I had reasoned that I wouldnt get in trouble because they hadnt mentioned the bird feeder specifically.

When I was twelve, Dad bought me a brand new Ruger model 10/22 for Christmas. The best Christmas present a country boy could ever dream of. For the next several years that gun went on every walk I ever took. No varmint was off-limits within safe shooting distance; overly confident squirrels, cunning chipmunks nor unsuspecting rabbits. The responsibility of owning that fi ...

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