By two p.m., with the rain coming down in sheets, the patient resting comfortably, my football team getting clubbed like baby seals on national television, and the dog looking downright vindictive, the right play was feeling a little claustrophobic for all concerned.
If I’d had a pipe and an Irish setter, we could have been in a Norman Rockwell painting. Puffy white clouds floated in a bluebird sky above vibrant green sage and the rolling red-dirt prairie. A man, at ease with the world and confident in his forthcoming conquest, strides forth, a shotgun cradled across, Read More
Cooped up in the back of the pickup the dogs were restless. They had been let out a few times between stalks, but mostly it had been a long ride. Antelope were the top priority. The dogs and a chance to look for sage grouse were a distant second. By mid afternoon we were, Read More
If I’d had a pipe and an Irish setter, we could have been in a Norman Rockwell painting. Puffy white clouds floated in a bluebird sky above vibrant green sage and the rolling red-dirt prairie. A man, at ease with the world and confident in his forthcoming conquest, strides forth, a shotgun cradled across, Read More