As a youth I grew up in a small town in central Vermont. The outdoors has always been a part of my life. In my youth it was the excitement of exploring the brook near my home for treasures. I collected rocks with my brothers and buried things near the brook in the fall to see if it would still be there in the spring. I spent afternoons lying on the big rock in the middle of the brook reading and when I got older a fought with my parents or friends, or boyfriends I would run away to my rock in the brook. My dad was and still is a hunter. I went out in the woods with him once when I was in my pre teen years and I loved being in the woods but wasn't a fan of shooting anything. I thought hunting was so mean. In my adolescent years I didn't understand the reasoning behind it and I refused to eat anything that my dad would go out and hurt. Those poor defenseless deer.