My father got me started when I was about his age. He and my Mother would put me down for a nap when he was about to go hunting with the promise that he would tell me his hunting story when he got home. I remember many a time waking up to a partridge, a pheasant or rabbit on a piece of newspaper on the dining room table and him having to tell me about it. This progressed to his deer hunting in Maine for week+ periods at a time. And when he finally pulled back in the driveway him having to come in the house to tell me all his deer stories before he could unload the truck. He'd bring me home treasures of beech nuts and cranberries from the woods and rabbit furs from ClarkesTrading post. I made my first kill with a Daisy Red Rider he bought me for Christmas at 5 or 6 . Brought it to show him with tears in my eyes. Didn't carry my first real long gun with him until I was ~12. Joined him for my first big woods Maine deer hunt when I was 15. Everyone went in separate directions, and I got lost in the woods for the first time. Fired 3 evenly spaced shots into the base of a big fir tree as I was taught. Noone heard or answered me. Trusting in my compass I found my way back to camp by myself. Memories..
I regret we didn't hunt much together as I grew older. He did deer hunt with me a couple times and witnessed me take a couple decent bucks during gun season. I grew to be much more more avid as well as more successful hunter than he, but I owe the love of this great sport to him giving me its start.
Seems new hunter numbers are falling off with the new younger generation. Hope you all give your kids a start like Husker.