A-hunting we will go

It started with a streak of bad shooting while hunting with my two sons and an old friend. Both of the sons are under 40; the friend and I are on the backside of full Social Security retirement age. After we missed several easy shots at the pheasants, one of the impertinent youngsters wondered aloud how much our reflexes had slowed down since we had gotten older. They also made comments as we labored to cross ditches, attempting to get to the other side. They did help us by holding the wire as we crawled under fences and lay moaning on the ground, trying to get back up on our feet. At the end of the day, we decided we oldsters were either keeping the ammunition people in business or trying not to shoot any pheasants so we wouldn't have to do any bird cleaning.

With the opening of quail season, the same foursome ventured forth to hunt the wily bobwhites. Only this time, the friend from up north brought a note from his eye doctor, saying that Charlie was having some trouble with his shooting eye. Therefore, he wanted to go on record that his vision was somewhat questionable, and he made a big deal of giving the rest of us his written excuse before we started the hunt. The bad shooting pattern followed the same course that it had earlier; only my problem was I didn't have any excuse.

Just last week, the two oldsters decided to hunt out around Hesston, Kan. On the day before I was to leave, a lens came out of my prescription glasses at some unknown location and it happened to be on my shooting eye. Since I couldn't get a replacement lens in one day, I bought reading glasses and hoped that would help. Unfortunately, I didn't get a good reading on the birds with my makeshift glasses.

I just got a call from Dr. Mitchell's office that the lens had arrived, but by the time we hunt again, I plan to have my excuse ready.