Anniversaries, I’ve had a few. As of this past July 11, Kay and I have been married 38 years, On Nov. 24, it will have been 55 years since the morning I downed my first buck. This past April 13 marked the 30th anniversary of my bagging my first wild turkey gobbler. Anniversaries are sort of special. Fifty years ago next month, a 35- year- old fellow did something he had wanted to do for a long time but lacked both k n ow - h ow and intestinal fortitude to see it happen. He picked up a copy of the Guardian Journal, Homer’s weekly newspaper and nervously flipped over to find an article under the heading “Hunting and Fishing with Uncle Zeke from Beaver Creek.”