I couldn't wait to get out of school and slip into my soft cool 'dungarees' and take my Stevens-Savage .22 up into the woods and shoot until suppertime.
Often times I didn't even shoot. I would just sit in the woods and enjoy the sounds, smells and wildlife. Of course, I would find a log or something to discharge the round in the chamber into before I left the woods.
That was 1961. A couple of years later, Interstate 91 plowed right through it.