The clan and friends have dispersed, and I am recovering from sensory overload, a happy man to have had the fun again.
The worst imaginable hunting weather closed us down Saturday, so consumption began earlier than usual, culminating in a birthday party for my daughter which strained the capacity of my small quarters.
The grandpa gave the lad a plain-Jane pump 20 gauge as a belated birthday gift. It is meant as a spare for days when he doesn't care to take his nice double afield. He graciously acknowledged it on Facebook, and I can hear the shrieks of my lefty friends now. OMG, you gave a GUN to a CHILD? (The last I saw of the child, he was nonchalantly at the wheel of a Suburban while my child relaxed in the passenger seat.)
The end of the fest pleased the pheasants, I'm sure. The noise of being shot at must be terribly annoying.
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