Just Driving Around In An Oven

"How's it goin' Padre?"

"A bit chilly, what?"

Meaning it's 105* in the shade and Devil take the hindmost. Undaunted by an I'm in a preheating oven kind of feeling, I climbed into the rig and drove to the Pick 'n Steal. Old habits die hard and there, predictably, was First Baptist shining in the sun.

I always wonder if being First translates to Best. Do the First Families of the town go to the  first baptist church in the town? Perhaps they do, though once they would've been Episcopalien. Well, we messed that up.

Whatever, unfold the frame and scoot across the melting asphalt to the Shamrock and the best filling station coffee in town. I tell you, the shop's AC's a welcome relief. How did Texans get by without air conditioning?

Well, they mostly didn't because no one wanted to move here before it happened. Note, Dallas and the associated metrosprawl have only ballooned out of proportion subsequently. Which brings us to shooting.

A few years ago I'd think nothing of getting out in the heat and blasting away for a day in the August sun. 105*? Whatever, pass the ACP and all the rest. Now? Not so much. 

Mind you, I don't have much choice coz the leg's busted. How's that going to work out for September 1 and dove? Set up on a tailgate with a couple of Mojos out front and a 20? 

This, as with so much in life, remains to be seen. In the meanwhile, try not to melt.

God bless,

LSP

Dove Hunt

There's been a lot of horse lately, but not much gun. So loaded a shotgun in the truck and went in search of a more balanced life.

This meant walking the treelines in search of dove, and the method's simple, if not easy. Walk up on a tree with dove in it, and when they fly out of the tree like Exocet missiles, shoot them. At first there were no doves, although there were spiders.

Then the avian acrobats burst out of a tree! One round off, no birds down, and in fairness to me they were going fast at the outer limits of my range. So I headed over to a dried-up creek and hunkered down for a bit, listening to someone making a rabbit distress call somewhere off to my left, in the brush. For the benefit of coyotes, probably.

After shooting a snake, I climbed out of the creek bed and headed towards a small clump of trees. If I was a dove, would I be in those trees? I asked myself, and figured yes, I would be. Sure enough they were, and exploded out of the tree as I got up on it. Big excitement, shots were fired, adrenaline up, and another miss. 

Berating myself for being slow off the mark, I walked back to my starting point and chased a few birds along the trees, but didn't get a shot in the autumnal 100 degree weather.

So. LSP 0, Dove 1.

This isn't over.

LSP