Not just for the birds
One summer while home from college I waited tables at an Italian restaurant in Laguna Beach run by some racist Milanese who'd recently emigrated from apartheid South Africa. How they ended up in Laguna I'm not sure, but their attitudes about people struck me as not only offensive but ironic considering that the kitchen and …
"Come on dogs, let's go hunting." Not just one dog but two. Not much more work having two. They get fed at the same time, go to bed at the same time, and adapt to each other's miscellaneous routines at home, like, for example, keying off of each other when it comes to hearing something …
"Her name is Rosie", the old man that was camped near us with Florida license plates told me as his dog walked over to me. Rosie, was an overweight black lab with gray on her face and eyes clouded over with glaucoma. "Come on Rosie, don't bother her," he yelled in her direction. I yelled …
Some things are rituals. It was never discussed on Saturday but over the course of the last four months it was customary or tradition that we'd bird hunt on every Sunday. Last Sunday morning while sitting in front of the wood stove drinking coffee and looking out the living room window toward the mountains, Bob …
This final Sunday of a marvelous chukar season finds us all, for the first time this season, called to something other than hunting. Leslie and I, forced to take a sick weekend, are watching the growing covey of quail scarf corn while the dogs get an unprecedented seventh straight day of no exercise. These diluvial …