Yesterday afternoon was a foggy drizzle so I sat in the pig hutch* with the 30-06 across my knees and a 50-years-old pocket transistor radio at just detectable volume listening to the Packers subvert the Vikings. Not sure this qualifies as ‘hunting’ (and it certainly didn’t yield any venison) but I found myself feeling like a rich man.
*currently pigless and strategically positioned to overlook the back valley
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