What is your favorite outdoor memory? I have a lot of them, but I have had a lot of time to make them. If you spend time outdoors you will make both good and bad memories, often when least expected. And you will remember them the rest of your life.

My first bass will always stand out since it hooked me for life. Mom and I were fishing below Usury’s Pond dam and catching small bream and catfish. Our tackle was a cane pole, cork, hook and sinker. Live earth worms were our bait.

My cork went under and when I lifted my pole the fish took off and jumped several times. That bass was probably about ten inches long but I loved the way it ran and fought, very unlike the other fish we had been catching. I have loved catching bass since that day.

My first deer is also memorable to me. I had been hunting for about four years, since I was 14 years old. My first two years my parents would let me hunt only during archery season with my uncle Adron. But when I turned 16 I got a Marlin 30-30 lever action rifle and was allowed to hunt with it.

I was hunting on public land on Germany Creek near out boat club. I had seen a few does during the year from my first climbing stand Mr. Ed Henderson had made from a picture in a magazine. That mid-November morning I had been on the stand about two hours when I spotted a buck about 100 yards up the hill.

It is no excuse, but I this was before I had a scope on my rifle. I aimed at the shoulder, and I am sure I was shaking badly from buck fever. When I pulled the trigger the deer dropped, then got up and ran. I emptied my gun at it as it disappeared over a small hill.

Staying on the stand as long as I could stand it, probably just a few minutes that seemed like hours, I started down the tree. I was in such a hurry I jumped from the stand when it was still about eight feet off the ground. That jump would injure me now, but at 18 I hit the ground running while reloading.

I topped the hill and there lay an eight point buck. I could not have been more proud, although now I know it was a year-and-a-half old buck. Its rack was mall but perfectly formed, and my dad got it mounted. I think he was as proud as me. It is looking at me as I type this.

Camping and building huts in the woods are great memories. The best hut we ever built was a “log cabin.” We cut saplings and made walls between four nicely placed trees, and finally remembered we needed a door so we made one. The roof was saplings laid side by side and thatched with sweetgum limbs and leaves. It slowed the rain a little. That eight by eight foot hut was our castle.

Camping took many different forms, from sleeping in the back yard in lounge chairs to putting up an army surplus pup tent in the woods. Lounge chairs look like they would be comfortable, and they get you off the ground, but that bar across it where it folds guarantees there is no way to get comfortable for the night.

Pup tents worked little better. They were drier than the hut but the gaps around the ground allowed mosquitoes and other bugs in. But we spent many happy nights sleeping on the ground in them in sleeping bags. It is amazing how rocks pop out of the ground right under you all night long no matter how well you clear it before putting out your bag.

My first Top Six tournament when I made the state team will always be special. My first time was over 30 years ago and I have made the team five more times since then, but that one will always hold a special place in my mind. I placed fourth at West Point out of 540 fishermen. Without Kenneth Hattaway’s advice I would not have made the team, and many people have helped me over the years. Those are good memories, too.

Quail and dove hunting with dad was always special, but the first time he let me take the dogs and his short barrel 12 gauge out by myself was special. I found five coveys that afternoon, all by myself, and killed one bird from each covey. That was four more than I had ever killed in one day with my .410!

Dad never went squirrel hunting with me although I hunted several afternoons a week after school and all day on Saturday during most of the season. One day after school while I was getting ready dad said he would go with me. I got a limit that afternoon, killing ten tree rats, very unusual. Dad never fired a shot and I now realized he tried to help me kill every one we saw. He was always the one to walk around the tree to make the squirrel come around where I could see it.

All those and many more are special memories. Don’t miss a chance to make some of your own, especially with your kids.