When I was nine, our family lived in Plummer Idaho, a small logging town in the Panhandle.

We actually lived on 10 acres of land in the hills several miles outside of town.

My two older brothers were avid hunters who would go on extended hunting trips

and they'd leave from our house and head out to the middle of nowhere,

pick a spot where they wanted to hunt and then build a shelter out of fallen timber

where they'd stay for the duration of their hunt.

One year they asked me if I wanted to go.

I would get to stay in one of their timber shelters.

They would cook for me over the campfire, they'd even let me shoot one of their rifles.

They promised it would be a lot of fun. I asked my dad if it'd be okay,

and after they assured him that they would take good care of me, he agreed to let me go.

We headed out on a Friday evening, and I remember the day because it meant I would be missing Saturday morning cartoons the next morning.

Oh man that oh anything that interrupted Saturday morning cartoons was horrible for me too brother

I agree with that but I digress for a kid that was a big deal

but this sounded like more fun besides I really wanted to fire my brother's 30 30, even if it would probably knock me on my butt.

We crammed into the front seat of my brother's regular cab pickup and headed further into

the mountains.

It seemed like it took forever, so I think we must have been up there quite a way.

Of course I was still a kid, and so the distance may have been exaggerated in my mind, but it seemed like it took a really long time.

We finally parked in a clearing outside of the main tree line and we hiked the rest of the way in. We went far enough in that one of my

brothers had to carry me on his back for the last half of the walk to the

campsite. By the time we got there it was getting late at least it was for me so I

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