The hunter's horn sounded for me genetically.

My grandfather hunted. My great-grandfather hunted. My great-great-grandfather hunted. And so on. It did skip a generation with my father but that was probably more due to being told to work on the farm while "Dad" and the oldest son went off hunting.

When visiting the part of Europe my ancestors came from I was pleased to see it is still rich with game - boar, roe, fallow, reds, pheasant. And even found a trophy hanging in one of Franz Josef's hunting palaces with a European bison from the region dated at a similar time to when my ancestors left. Of course they were only small landowners and probably poached more than hunted. The local nobility had a palace only two or three kilometres from their village so I imagine they participated in drives etc. My g-g-g-g-grandmother came from a very small village once called "Harte" which in English is a name for a female red deer. Maybe similar meaning in German (?). It still is a tiny village surrounded first by fields and then on all sides by thick forest and only a tiny very narrow surfaced road leading in and finishing in the forest on the far side of the village. 160 years ago probably even wilder. It took 2 hours to find the road to this village.

My parents discouraged me from using or touching firearms. But when I was about eight I took to carrying a .410 double shotgun around, unloaded for play (see doubles are in the blood too

). By nine or ten I was shooting it, mostly self-taught. Soon after a .22 single shot and death to many fruit eating maraudering birds on the farm. Later a 12 gauge side by side. Damascus barrels, external hammers, 2 1/2 inch chambers but full 2 3/4" loads. Eventually I worked out my father and I shouldn't use that gun anymore, other than with special loads as it potentially wasn't safe. Then a .222, and later my .30-06 when I was about 18. A couple of new shotguns somewhere in there too.

Only small game around the farm and blocks but I had and still could get about 15 to 20 square miles of hunting territory. I gave most of it up as I never used it. Trips for goats. Later some fallow deer. Some pigs. Some interstate trips for sambar but University and dreaded work in an evil office stopped most of my hunting until I saw the light again.

I remember a relevation one day. I was watching one of these crap Tarzan movies which I enjoyed. It was showing Tarzan batling the evil hunters. I suddenly realised. I enjoy hunting, there is nothing wrong with hunting. These movies indoctrinate you into believing hunting is wrong. I was probably about ten. So I pursued hunting with a vengeance.

My mother gave me a good how-to hunting magazine and said, we don't want you to get fanatical. It was very informative and I learned a lot from that magazine. I did become fanatical.

It's in the genes you see.