Dad's special gift

Ode to a father who hunted close to the truck, fished with marshmallows and did so to pacify his son's yen for the wild.

Updated: May 31, 2006, 7:22 PM ET
By   | Mike Zlotnicki
Raleigh News & Observer

The first fish I ever "caught" was tossed to me by my dad at a seafood shop in Baltimore.

The first hunt I ever went on I watched Dad outrun an English setter somewhere west of Omaha to retrieve a ringneck pheasant he had shot.

Once he capsized a canoe filled with my fishing tackle, and we laughed about it for years.

You see, my father wasn't God's own outdoorsman. He was a career Air Force officer, a survivor of Hitler's concentration camps during World War II who worried more ...

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