My Dad was 9 in 1930 when his Dad left for good....Dad the youngest, no brothers, had to shoulder the family's food gathering, he did it with a .22 & .410. Learned the value of ammo, made each shot count, that sort of thing, and trapped, sold furs. Dad had me carrying empty .410s and .22s to the duck blind with him when I was 4, and I started hunting with ammo when I was 7, with Dad. Ducks, geese, pheasants, quail, rabbits, squirrels. Odd, looking back now with the proliferation of deer, but there weren't any when I was little, I was a teen when I saw my first deer, I think. Dad never hunted deer, as he didn't grow up hunting them. I started hunting deer with friends when I was about 22. I was probably 30 & hunting squirrels with Dad, and we were on top of a long hill, creek at bottom, trail going from us to creek, and we saw deer at the creek. 10am, I told Dad they would come up the trail to us. We got on opposite sides of the trail, 20 yards off of it, hid in the brush. Waited while the deer began coming up the hill to us. they stalled, browsing acorns, and I got out my white snot rag and waved it a coupled of times, pulled it back. Repeated. They got all curious - bobbing heads - and started coming in to us. I gently spooked them, they ran off 20-30, looked back, and we stayed down. I raised up the white flag & flicked it a few times, & lip squeaked, and they started coming back in to me. We did this several times. I finally stood up and walked over to Dad, and they left. Dad thought that was the coolest thing, being that close to the deer.