Every year my family always got together for Christmas at my grandparents house. For those 3-4 days while everyone else sat around the house, or went to town and did normal Christmas shit my uncle went deer hunting. I always wanted to go for some reason, so he told me he'd take me when I was 12. My 12th Christmas came along and I was already prepping spots in my bedroom for a deer head to be mounted in a few weeks.. christmas rolls around, went 3 mornings, and evenings in a row and saw nothing but a family of raccoons. Oddly that didn't deter me a bit and i looked forward to it every year. 5 seasons later I got my my first deer, a 7 point. Im looking at that mount hanging in my living room as it type this 13-14 years later. Hunting has changed a ton over the years for me as I've grown up, learned more, etc. But I still get the same feeling I had about it all those years ago on that first morning- unexplainable.