My first pheasant hunt was in Zilwaukee, MI on Consumer's Power Company land in 1962. My Grandfather had a green and yellow Lincoln. The dog rode in the trunk. My Grandparents watched us kids, and my Grandfather always took us hunting and fishing. It's nearly my earliest memory, and that is kinda nice.
My Grandmother held my hand and we walked the ditch for my Grandpa. The weeds were taller than me.
I had to poop, and we had nothing to wipe with. My Grandma gave me an old yellow flannel work glove out of the glove box to wipe with. I still remember dropping a deuce at 18mos old in the middle of the road behind the old Lincoln.
Yellow work gloves still creep me out, but every time I hunt pheasants I am returned to those days, and I am a toddler on my Grandma's arm again.
So as you see, you can start a kid young, and it'll take.