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The first time I put a shotgun in my grandson’s hands, the morning smelled like coffee and cut grass, and the marsh beyond the lane lay flat…

It’s that time of year again — the time many hunters wait for. Shotguns come out of storage and camo makes its way out of the back…

I remember a beautiful fall day in 1968. I was only 12 years old when my grandfather agreed to a fishing trip with one of his many…