Because you have not lived until you’ve spit out a little ammo at the supper table!

My Dad is a hunter.  Years ago, he primarily hunted ducks and geese.  Also many years ago, he and my husband took a trip to South Dakota:

Husband                                                         Father

The scene of the harvest in this mid ‘80s South Dakota picture, heads draped over the edge of the tailgate, is a familiar one to me.  I remember being young, maybe 8 or 9, and taking a long time to get up the nerve to go TOUCH one of the lined-up fowl.  Of course, at least in my memory, it is dark in the driveway. Very dark.  No starlight, no moon, no nothing.  Just a tailgate full of dead ducks, and for whatever reason I had myself convinced that if I were brave, I would go touch one.  Laura Ingalls wouldn’t be afraid to touch one.  [Read More…]