One day, three friends and I decided to go pheasant hunting.  We all had shotguns and cruised through the plantation roads looking for our prey.  All of a sudden, someone shouted - "Pheasant!"  Out came all four guns, barrels blazing!  Two seconds later, out jumped four guys - all holding our ears...the sound of all that gunfire inside the car was deafening!  Did anyone get the pheasant?  Nope - the pheasant was safe and sound...and long gone.

 My cousin and I loved to go frogging at night. We made our own spears using a bamboo pole with a trident prong that dad welded to catch the frogs.  We were probably only 12 or so and went out alone for hours.  With flashlights in hand, we'd get so dirty trekking through the mud. Sometimes we'd catch a lot and sold some to the gamblers in the camp or sold them to a restaurant to make some extra money.  We always kept some,  skinned and cleaned the frogs and mom would fry them up for dinner. 
(Yes, they do taste like chicken!)

As far as blowing things up?  I won't go into details - suffice it to say, I'm amazed I'm still alive!

At the end of each show, the family sits down for supper and Grandpa Phil prays over their meal.  I used to pray a lot too - mostly that I wouldn't get in trouble!  Thankfully, my mom prayed REAL prayers that kept me safe all those years.