Sporting Classics Digital

Sporting Lifestyle 2017

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S ome might consider it an odd thing, but I must admit I feel a tad inadequate, naked if you will, to take a walk in the country without a rod, or gun, or golf club for that matter. Come to think of it, for as far back as I can remember I have always been casting, shooting, or hitting at something. Although my wife, Nicole, is very accommodating to my woodsy whims, big game hunting for her is bagging a Michael Kors autumn-inspired pocketbook at 30 percent off the sales price. While my two daughters certainly received their pretty looks via my wife's beautiful genes, they got their passion for wild spaces from me. And, ever since they were old enough to tag along, I have taken them on one outdoor adventure after another. It was on one of these excursions, when they were little girls, that we happened across a praying mantis. He was a dandy, an exquisite Stagmomantis carolina. My oldest, Parker, thought the Brownie Scout thing to do would be to give this fellow a good home. So we did. She named him Mantar, and long story short, the crazy thing actually became somewhat of a pet. Whenever you'd walk into her room he'd tap on the side of the terrarium with his claws, watch you with those big bubble eyes, and wait for Parker to take him out and hand-feed him crickets. Yes, it was all a bit creepy. And somehow, Nicole, who had built up a tolerance to taxidermy, wet dogs, and muddy boots, accepted this as par for the course.

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