Who would you say was most instrumental in creating your love of the outdoors?  As we continue in our march towards a more and more industrialized society, and a more and more urban-dwelling population, fewer and fewer of us learn to appreciate the benefits of being outside.  While your average Nebraskan is probably more likely than much of the rest of the country to have ties to someone who lives outside the city limits, those odds are changing.  The simple fact is that as the big cities grow, more kids will have a lesser understanding of the outdoors, and a greater understanding of the Wii or Playstation.  Sadly, the gaming controller is more likely to be found in their hands than a fishing pole or a sporting rifle.

 

Recently I saw an ad for a television show in which the child was playing a video game, and the father came up behind him and said, “When I was a kid, we had this really great game.  It was called…OUTSIDE.”   Indeed. 

“That will never happen,” you say?   “Not in my family,” you scoff?   I hope you are correct.  Perhaps not in your family, but as a trend, outdoors sporting activities have been steadily declining for years.  Only by changing this trend, one family at a time, can we hope to secure the future of hunting and fishing for generations to come. 

So, back to my original question.   Who was it who encouraged you to turn off the Saturday morning cartoons?  Who pried the game controller from your “cold dead hands?”   In many cases, it was a family member.  If it was a family member, for most of us it was our father.   I would contend that there is no single greater influence on the life of an outdoorsman than the positive role model of a father.  It is a father who misses a prized buck because his child is making too much noise in the field, yet doesn’t seem to mind that much.   It is a father who puts up with the complaining because there are too many bugs or it’s too hot on the bank.  The father who often times baits the hook, removes the fish, skins the rabbit, and seldom complains as long as his child is there with him, learning along the way. 

I owe a great deal to my father.  As a child, it was the trips to Harlan County Reservoir that taught me how to fish, and so much more.   Our first boat was a 14 foot aluminum vessel with a 9 ½ horse power Johnson on the back.  The boat had three bench seats.  The back was for my dad to run the motor.  The middle was for my older brother and me.  The front was for my mother.   Also on this boat were often two dogs, both Shih Tzu’s, who loved to fish.   Imagine a 14ft boat with 4 people, two dogs, a gas tank, two tackle boxes, an anchor, four fishing poles, 4 life jackets, a fish locator, etc, etc.

The casual reader may be thinking how on earth did you gain any appreciation for the outdoors when you were cramped like sardines on a little boat in the middle of Harlan County Lake?   I wonder the same thing.  Yet the lessons I learned from my father, and my mother as well, were many.  I learned a great love of being outside.  Sunburns and sweat were no threat to a young boy.   In exchange, I hauled in walleyes, white bass, and catfish until my arms were tired.   On some days I learned that patience was a virtue and that silence was golden.   I learned a deep and abiding sense of respect for the law.   Permits were always purchased, licenses always held, limits always adhered to, and respect for the prey always offered.  I remember the heartbreak of watching a fish swim away because it was a quarter inch too small.  I learned that my father could tolerate my endless questions because I was learning to fish.  More importantly, I was learning to LOVE to fish.  

Along with boat behavior, I learned to respect my fellow outdoorsmen.  My father had a great relationship with the many other outdoorsmen at the lake.  He seemed to always know the other person on the boat, at the marina, or the dock.  There was a hearty hello, and then endless conversation always seemed to follow.  Information was freely given and received.  There was no reason to hide where they were having success.   Everyone wanted to have success, and everyone shared their best secrets.  A practice I continue to this day. 

As important as fishing was to my childhood, there was so much more.   As a child, nearly every weekend meant loading up the aforementioned family and dogs into a single cab Ford F-150 and driving an hour and a half to my grandmother’s farm near Rock Port, Missouri.  In the confines of that truck cab, many of those lessons leaned on the boat, like patience, silence, and above all else, keeping my hands to myself, were strictly enforced.   Yet it was on this farm that I learned the joys of hunting and shooting.   

If you grew up in the home of an outdoorsman, you grew up around guns.   If your father was wise, he began teaching you about the dangers of firearms almost immediately.  They were to be feared.  They were to be respected.  Eventually, and at the right time, they were to be enjoyed.   My teeth were cut with countless hours on that farm sitting with my father on lawn chairs, plinking away with the .22.  Marksmanship is not something you gain by reading a book.  Mastery requires practice.   Mastery requires rules.  You don’t look down the barrel to look for the bullet.  You don’t fire the gun to unclog the barrel.  You don’t point the gun at anything you don’t intend to shoot.  Even in play.  Even if it is unloaded.   Those things seem laughable to me now, but remember, if you don’t have anyone to teach you those things, you don’t know. 

Nearly every weekend was spent with my BB gun, hunting anything I could find.  Eventually the BB gun turned into a .22 caliber single-shot.  Then, eventually, a shotgun.   It was on this farm and at the feet of my father that I learned marksmanship, hunter safety, and gun safety, and I learned to love being outside when I WASN’T on the water.  I loved crossing the creek.  I loved rustling through the bramble and brush.  I loved chasing frogs and hunting small game.  I LOVED the feeling that being outside with a rifle in my arms gave me.  

I would be selling my father short if I told you that fishing, hunting, or firearms were the only things I learned.  There was so much more.  Too much to list, really.   How do you explain how much a lifelong love of the outdoors means to a person?  You have to share that love to know how important it really is.   How do you explain why you keep the rules instead of breaking them?  It cannot be understated how important it is to grow up knowing the right thing, to care enough to do the right thing as an adult. 

I freely admit that I am a pretty simple person.  I have very few passions in my life.  One of the biggest is my love of the water, the love of sunshine, and the love of being outdoors.  As I look at my children, glued to the television, spending their third hour on the Playstation, I think about how much they like to fish and go outside with their Dad. Why haven’t I taken them lately?  Have I spent enough time outside with them?  Will they look upon their years with me with fondness, like I do with my Dad?   I think I’ll tell them about that really great game I had when I was a kid, called… “outside.”