For FishingMagician.com, I'm Eric Granstrom. Sonja was the first to appear from the screen of brush to my right. I had just finished cleaning up what I thought was a good job of gutting the deer I'd shot nearly an hour earlier. Dad came trudging behind her and could not hide his smile beneath a scraggly beard. "Look at that!" is what he said. Standing over my first-ever deer harvest on my own, I proudly told the story of my sister and I loudly trouncing through the forest, snorting in search of our prey. Finally, I could see the deer through a vine maple bush. I raced around, aimed and fired. The deer tumbled backwards near a giant boulder. The adrenalin from the moment was still coursing through my veins as my sister stood proudly by, blood still dripping from her coat pocket where I'd stowed the liver to take to Dad. The old man, who was just 46 at the time, knelt down, grabbing my knife and gently telling me the lungs still needed to come out. 40-years later, my sister and I didn't succeed in harvesting a deer, but we did succeed in reuniting over the hunt. Until next time, Good Hunting!