Good.Will.Hunting

I started hunting with my dad when I was about 7. I started practicing gun safety very early on in life. My dad never let me out of his sight with a gun until I was probably in my early teens. We used to hunt a mile from the house in Florida. I loved it. Whatever my dad was doing, that’s what I wanted to be doing. He’d try to sneak out of the house and leave me at home so that he could go out by himself, and I’d come dragging those jeans down the stairs.

We had 14 Walker hounds in the back yard, so whenever he came out in the mornings, they’d get all stirred up because they knew they were going hunting. I’d hear them barking. I know whenever Dad pulled his truck out there, he’d be like “sssshhh” to the dogs. I’d come down, and he’d walk back in and I’d say, “Dad, you weren’t going to leave me, were you?” He’d say, “No, I was just loading up the dogs.” All those guys had kids my age, so we had huge cup-ball games. Ball up a cup and play baseball right there next to the camp. It was a good time for all.

My dad has always been an outdoorsman and an athlete. But I think once the family moved to Pierson (Fla.), he really got into the outdoors because all the people he came in contact with, whether it was at the high school or in the fern industry, they all hunted. It was more or less a time for camaraderie and fellowship on the weekends. That’s where it all started. It’s still a passion of mine. What I get out of it now is more of the release from playing baseball … in the spotlight, under a microscope. Hunting is just so peaceful, and I’ve really come to appreciate the serenity of it all. I use it more to recharge the batteries.