Getting out

Wednesday marked the first day of dove and goose season. I got off work at 9:30 and headed across the road to the neighboring farm where the cornfield had recently been cut. The landowner was happy enough to give me permission to hunt his land, and on my way back to my scooter, I saw this little bundle of fur piled up in front of a shed.


I'm a cat person...well, more of a kitten person really, so I had to have a picture. The little fuzzballs are about three weeks old, having just opened their eyes about a week ago. If I didn't already have enough cats, I would be very tempted to adopt the little black one.

My son had an appointment at 2:00, so while he was being seen, I went to the hardware store to pick up some bolts for making my rack more secure. On my way there, I saw this nice little Vespa LX150 parked outside a pizza shop.


I got my bolts and went back to get my kid, then at 5 pm, I headed off to the fields. My rack modifications worked great. The gun case stayed on perfectly and while I had to be more cautious of my width, it was well worth it.

It was warm, but not unbearably so. I'm so out of practice with my shotgun that the mourning doves were perfectly safe. I went through about a half box without taking any game.


The steers in the neighboring field did not seem to mind. They looked up every now and again, but the camouflaged hunter with the noisy shotgun didn't faze them.

As I was pulling into my driveway, my neighbor noticed the gun case on the back of the scoot. My neighbor had the perfect observation:

"You might be a redneck if..."