With Father's Day approaching, I always honor my grandfather, Richard Tweed Sr. Not only was he the most influential person in my life in a father figure role, but he is the reason I enjoy the outdoor world.

He taught me to hunt, shoot, and fish at a very young age — but more than that, he inspired me to pass that knowledge on to my own children and to others as well. This past year I started a scholarship in his name for kids in my JOAD program to help them with equipment and archery needs as they build their careers in the sport.

My grandfather is the reason I work in this industry, own a company in this industry, and spend all my free time in the outdoors. The hunting memory that stays with me most was my second rabbit hunt. I thought using his gun would make me a better hunter, so my grandfather traded with me — he took my single hammer-action youth gun and handed me the double barrel. Not only did he outshoot me, but he proved once and for all that it's not the gun. It's the operator.

I will always remember him as the best trainer and mentor a kid could have, and I look to pass on every bit of the knowledge and wisdom he gave me.

My dad is the reason I became the hunter I am today. He started taking me hunting when I was young, and some of my earliest memories are sitting beside him learning to be still, be patient, and respect the outdoors. He was there when I killed my first deer — a doe with a muzzleloader when I was still in elementary school — and he was the one who took me to get my first turkey.

I killed that turkey with his Mossberg 835, and if you've ever shot one, you know that thing kicks like a mule. But when there's a turkey on the ground, you don't feel a thing.

Those moments were more than first harvests. They were lessons in confidence, responsibility, and tradition. Before deer and turkey became such a big part of my life, my dad took us rabbit hunting with beagles. Those dogs were part of everyday life, and making sure they were fed and watered was one of our first responsibilities. Looking back, he was teaching us long before we realized it — showing us that hunting wasn't just about the harvest. It was about taking care of your animals, doing the work, and respecting the process.

My granddaddy was always part of those memories too — there to congratulate me, tell me how great my harvest was, and remind me how proud he was. He would even give my dad a hard time and say mine was bigger. Those little moments of laughter and pride are ones I'll carry forever.

Growing up on a cattle farm, there was always work to be done. But through it all, my dad instilled in me the want to be outside. This Father's Day, I'm thankful for a dad who brought me along, taught me the work behind the lifestyle, and gave me a love for hunting and the outdoors that I still carry with me today.

Big shoutout to my dad for raising me the way he did and for instilling a passion for hunting into my life. Some of my best memories, lessons, and values came from time spent in the woods. Grateful for every early morning, every story, and everything you taught me along the way.

I haven't always been a hunter, although my entire life, my dad has been one. Some of my earliest memories are of watching him prepare for hunting season — organizing gear in the basement, sighting in his bow, and checking trail camera pictures. Hunting wasn't just something he did; it was part of who he was.

For years, I was simply an observer. I celebrated his successes, flipped through his photo albums, and was always the first one out the door when he pulled into the driveway with a deer in the truck. What I didn't realize then was that he was teaching me lessons that extended far beyond hunting — patience, perseverance, hard work, and respect for the outdoors.

After college, I began working at Cabela's headquarters in Sidney, Nebraska — a career path my dad certainly encouraged. Through that experience, I found myself connecting with something that had always been a significant part of his life. And there blossomed a new chapter in our relationship that had been subconsciously in the background the entire time.

My dad never pressured me to hunt. He simply led by example. When my husband and I moved to Wisconsin, bought a home with some land, and I was given a hand-me-down bow from my dad, my own hunting journey began. In just five years of bowhunting, I've learned lessons that reach far beyond the woods — patience, resilience, gratitude, and the value of slowing down.

More importantly, it has helped me better understand my dad — his passion, his dedication, and the values that have shaped him throughout his life. Whether we're sharing trail camera photos, swapping stories, or talking strategies throughout the season, hunting has given us a connection that continues to grow year after year.

So, thank you, Dad. Thank you for the lessons, the guidance, and the example you've set. The older I get, the more I realize that hunting is never really about the harvest. It's about growth, experiences, family, and embracing God's world.

Some of my favorite memories don't happen in the woods — they happen on the water. Growing up, my dad and I had a tradition: fishing trips, every couple of years, just us. And every single time, I remember being so excited to get a new reel and finally get to cast it out — and then beat him in catching the most fish. I always win. Every time. He knows it.

Whether we were heading to the beach or taking a boat out into deep water, it didn't matter. No agenda, no rush. Just the water, the rods, and a little friendly competition with my dad. Those trips taught me more than how to cast a line. They taught me patience, presence, and what it means to just be with someone you love.

Now we're planning the next chapter — adding my daughter Jru to our fishing trips. Three generations on the water. I can already picture her reaction when she finds out she gets her own reel — and I have a feeling she's going to give me a run for my money too.

To my dad — thank you for every trip, every cast, and every fish I caught more than you. I'm just following your lead, and now I get to pass it on.