A guy has to make certain sacrifices when he gets married, and for me they were my golf clubs and my shotgun (and some might say my sanity.)It's not that my wife asked me to give them up. It's just that life gets in the way of having all the fun I want sometimes. Things like work and kids make you prioritize what you're going to do with your free time. Much of my spare time now is spent reading, writing, gardening and running, all pretty time-consuming hobbies as well.So while many of you have been out downing pheasants and plunking deer this fall, I've been doing those other things. But that doesn't mean I and others don't enjoy reading about your hunting exploits and seeing the fruits (or rather meats) of your labor.With that in mind, I encourage you hunters to send us pictures of your successful hunts. Tell us where, when and with what you tamed the wild beast and we'll share it with the readers.As a kid growing up on a farm outside of Canton, S.D., I was seldom without at least a .22 in tow. Rabbits, gophers and birds were aplenty in our groves and pasture, and the creek running through it made it a good enough wildlife environment for my buddy and me to run a trap line.The occasional mink, muskrat or skunk was stupid enough to stumble into one of our sets. The fur company in Canton rewarded us with a couple bucks or a five spot even.This was all fine and good until my friend's cat proved to be too curious and not smart enough to keep its foot out of one of our traps. I remember the tears in Travis' eyes as we extricated his cat.It put a quick end to our years-long hobby, especially when his older sister learned of her cat's misfortune. And that darn cat limped around on three legs for several more years to continually remind us of our amateur trapping skills.Now I stick to fishing, and if a cat is stupid enough to dive into the water and bite on my hook, then he deserves what he gets. At least I won't feel as guilty about that one.