Drive about 45 minutes out of Calgary and you get to High River, which is "a vibrant, People-First community and the back door to the Kananaskis." Marketing aside, it was fun to get out of the city and visit family within sight of the mountains; there they were, at the very end of the road, and you can imagine the toughness of the people who pioneered this place, in the winter. Like Texans but Brits and Scots in the snow for months.
War against the Weather aside, I was knocking about in the backyard, watching the grass grow, when all of a sudden I spotted a Daisy lying nonchalantly against a wall. Yes, it was loaded, and there was a tin can.
Put two and two together and what do you get? No, not maths racism, but a backyard shooting range, so I set to, practicing abominably rusty off-hand with the little BB monster. Big fun, watch that can pop around the lawn. It brought me back to my youth and an air gun, a BSA pump, in Oxford. Sorry, birds, I genuinely apologize.
No sooner were hundreds of BBs exhausted than feminine cries echoed from the kitchen, "Please, please get us Poutine! It's just at the end of the street!" Huh. Off I went to the end of the street and there were the mountains, most majestic, but no poutine shop, so I recced around, miraculously found the place, and all was well in High River.
Maybe I need to invest in an air gun when I get back to Texas, just for backyard plinking and keeping the eye in, sort of thing. Shooting is, well, shooting, eh?
Cheers,
LSP
