I'm definitely not brave enough to take infants to the Quetico.

But when my son was 4-5 weeks old, my brother in law called all distraught. He was in the woods during bow season and had made a bad shot on a  deer (pulled his face away during the follow-thru) and couldn't find the deer. He was calling just to pass the time, give the deer a chance to die before he tracked further (not wanting to jump it and push it on to another farm).

But I said "hold on, I'll be right there." So I put the little man in one of those papoose carriers on my chest, tossed some diapers and formula in a camo hunting pack I used as a diaper bag and drove 40 miles to help track this deer for five hours. At times I was literally crawling on the ground looking for blood splatters, my face about 6 inches from my son's staring eyes.

You haven't lived as a father until you've fed a kid a bottle in the autumn woods.

"Breathe in this air, boy," my brother in law kept telling him.

When my then-wife got home that night with our daughter, she wanted to know how the "stick-tights" had gotten on his waffle weave sleeper.

This story has nothing to do with canoeing, but sheesh -- get outdoors with your children/grandchildren/nieces and nephews. My son doesn't consciously remember that day, but down deep I know his soul does.

-- kypaddler