The last hurrah

[Stepmac]

I was raised in western Kansas, not far from Dodge City. The bird hunting was wonderful! We pond jumped for ducks and cruised the plains for bob white quail. We tromped the wheat/milo fields for pheasants. Not many guys had dogs. We'd just walk the furrows and kick up birds as we came across them. If a hen came up we'd shout "Hen" and let it go, but a cock bird was in deep trouble. After the hunt we'd troup back home and clean the birds and then we'd have a feed! The women would cook pies and string beans and they'd cook up the birds. No wine, but a little bourbon. Children running around playing. It was just a little slice of Heaven. I am 80 years old now and I harken back to those days with a smile and a sigh.