Hard to pick just one but probably the first time my father took me hunting in the Catskills. I was about 12 or 13 and I got lost. No cell phone signal but we had radio contact. My father urged me to remain calm and identify anything that could be used as a landmark while “keeping the sun over my left shoulder.” It was a frightening yet exciting day and I went hunting with him every year after that until we couldn’t. My father passed away four years ago when I was only 36 years-old. I’m thankful for the time I got with him. He was able to see me get married and have two wonderful kids. I now look forward to the day I can take my son hunting…without the getting lost part.