I decided to take a break from fishing and do a little hunting with G.T., my longest surviving friend (since we were eight years old; we’re in our sixties now.) We first became acquainted on the playground of my grade school when G.T. transferred there, and we quickly became friends. This companionship continued and grew, and in high school G.T. and I were two of about five or six close friends who did our best to drive our teachers and administrators crazy and generally succeeded. G.T. was the one who was always good in math and physics, skills that he later applied in his job and his hobby of TV repair (back when televisions weren’t dispsoable like toothbrushes, as they are today). Not surprisingly, today he applies those same skills to computers. During college we maintained contact and G.T. was the Best Man in my wedding. Then, as friends do, our live’s trajectories veered in different directions for a few decades until we had the good fortune to see those trajectories intersect again. G.T. is a gun enthusiast and a proud member of the NRA. We enjoy target shooting together and hope to do some rabbit hunting this winter .Last year G.T. and I spent a great day chukar hunting together.
We met our guide and his dogs one cold April morning. Sunny, it promised to be a great day for walking the fields, and it was. Watching the pair of dogs was a delight. Although I grew up hunting rabbits and squirrels with Dad, we never had the luxury of a dog (I usually played that role.) The pointing and honoring the point were truly fascinating. Having only hunted birds (pheasants) once before, it took me a while to find my rhythm and begin connecting with the birds (I believe I saw the dogs rolling their eyes at me.) Finally, at the end of the day we had something to show for the shotgun shells spent.