Like others, I grew up in an outdoor activities family and honestly, I thought everyone did.
Fishing, hunting, collecting wild mushrooms and huckleberries, camping, picnicking, weather permitting, we were always off into the woods, to a lake or a river. My Dad grew up on a homestead in the Wallowa Mountains and his family survived from anything they could harvest in the wild. That of course, continued on with my family.
Spring was spent looking for moral mushrooms and then later on, huckleberries.
Once the rivers and lakes opened for fishing, we'd spend a lot of time fishing. Then, during the Fall, we'd go deer and elk hunting.
My Grandfather was a genuine pioneer and outdoors-man. Consequently, we all ended up out and about in the wild as long as we could before the snow arrived.
In my Dad's world, more was better. So, fishing trips meant we kept every trout we could.
He was keen on taking photos of all the fish we caught... I wonder why the numbers declined as they did
For some unknown reason, I seemed to always catch the largest fish...
Here's the interesting part of that... I hated fishing! I didn't eat trout and didn't find it all that entertaining. It wasn't until I moved from NEO and took up flyfishing on this side of the state that I became a flyfishing nut. Part of that was the fact that most fly anglers released their trout and that was never a consideration when I fished with my Dad.
Later in life, Dad would go flyfishing with me and he did release the trout we caught. He didn't even grouse about it.
He was proud that I became an outdoor writer even if I didn't keep all the fish I caught and put them on a piece of plywood for a photo.