"Mama say sit down, be very quiet. I sit down. Mama get down on one knee. BAFF! BAFF! Deer run 'way SUPER fast."

My older son, Rob, was about 3 years old when he gave that report on a hunting trip he'd taken with his mom. He's pushing 30 now and living in Seattle. I bet he's never forgotten that long-ago hike up in the Yaak country. I know I haven't.

Hunt with your kids now and maybe you won't have to hunt for them later.

Jump forward a couple of years. Rob and David are wearing a couple of my old orange T-shirts on an elk hunt in the Kill Wolves Creek area. It's a cold, foggy morning with a touch of snow on the ground. At gray dawn we walk out on the top of a steep clearing. All of a sudden a bull bugles from the gloom.

"Dad! What is that?"

"Sssssh! It's an elk. Shhh!"

Another bull answers from across the clearing. This is it! One's going to walk out and it's mine! My adrenaline's boiling. Big Biter, my pet .30-06, is ready.

"Daddy elk or mama elk?"

"Daddy elk! Now shut!"

Suddenly David loses his balance and the 4-year-old tumbles head over heels, looking for all the world like a jack-o-lantern with little flying boots. I laughed out loud as I went to help him up.

"Dad! It's NOT funny! I could have rolled all the way down the mountain!"

The bulls were long gone. Who cares? I didn't have elk steaks but I have the memories.

Hunt with your kids now and maybe you won't have to hunt for them later.

Take the kids along. They'll be curious. That's good. I remember taking a nap in my pickup once and telling the boys to look around for half an hour, see what they could find. David showed up with a pocket full of dried "sign" and we sorted it together. Moose and deer, as I recall.

Take the kids along. If they're up early with you, busting brush all day, they won't be out late at night. They'll be off the couch. Do it right, and there just might be spider webs on the video-game controllers. That's not a bad thing. You can teach them that success in hunting, as with most parts of life, is directly proportional to the work put forth. They can learn to play by the rules and they can learn personal responsibility.

You'll trade all that for the memories.

Ten years ago, Friday, Sept. 28, 2002, David, 13, killed a 43-inch bull moose in the beaver ponds at Bullion Creek, near the Idaho-Montana state line. When the shooting stopped, David didn't cheer or high-five. He stared at the fallen Goliath with awe and respect, then looked me in the eye.

"Dad, I've got to be alone for a few minutes."

Hunt with your kids now, and maybe you won't have to hunt for them later.

I mentally wrote most of this column while on a short grouse hunt and suddenly, fiercely, I missed my Dad. I love you, Buckshooter.

Dan Drewry is publisher of the Shoshone News-Press.