I havent been twelve yearsold for a very long time. (26 yrs. to be exact.) But I do remember with great clarity, the night before my first buck season at my families camp in Southern Clearfield County. lets just say i was so worked up that I was vomiting and visiting the bathroom very often. My mom and I thought I had the flu, dad KNEW I had buck fever. I killed a beautiful 8 pt. at 8:30 opening morning after about forty deer filed past our treestand. I got pretty worked up over that buck, and so did my dad. I had spent two opening days previous to that in the same stand with dad. Never made it past 7:30 either of those years. Dads good shooting made sure of that. To say we had a good spot was an understatement. Many years later, Im older of course and so is dad. Artheritis, and cancer have made their marks on dad. A family of my own has put me in the position dad was in years ago with me on that windy morning I killed my first buck. Regardless, we still hunt and hunt often. Dad is still my best friend. We are going to Colorado on a guided elk hunt this year. First time with an outfitter. I lived in Montana for several years, and dad made the pilgrimage west more than once. We are not strangers to elk or hunting them. However, Dad told me this may be the last hurrah for his elk hunting for health reasons. It kills me to think it might be true. But it makes me that much more determned to ensure his success. I am dedicated to give him back what he gave me so many years ago. A burning passion for the outdoors and all things wild. I love you dad, and hats off to you. We will give' em [censored] in Colorado. Updates to follow fellas , and thanks for reading this.