My philisophical pal, GWB, tipped up on Sunday night with a view towards some steaks and an armed stroll in the woods the following day. The steaks were good and so were the the woods, but just in case the latter needed pacifying, we took a small arsenal along.
GWB brought a Remington 870 because a 12 is always useful; I think it’s his duck gun. I brought a Ruger American .22 and a .45. Who knows, maybe I’d have to use the pistol to get to the rifle, but even if I had to, I doubt I’d be much use with the rifle.
|Check Out The Pipe|
I know this, because I fired off a couple of magazines off-hand against some steel plates, at around 50 yards, before we got to the woods and was appalled by my marksmanship, or rather lack of it. A couple of remedial afternoons at the range is definitely in order.
Missing the target practice over, we headed into the thorny thicket of the woods, hoping for squirrels. They didn’t show, but a stream did. It was tranquil, standing there looking down at the water and seeing fish glide and dart their way along the banks.
|Go To The Woods|
Water feature enjoyed, it was time to set up by some oaks and try to call in the bushy tailed tree dwellers. No joy, but the sound of the water moving in the near distance, and the woods coming alive in the silence, was soothing to the soul.
|Water, in Texas|
At least it was for me, I’m not sure what GWB was up to. He was in a different spot, hidden in the brush, doubtless parsing John Milbank or texting some PH out of Eckland.
Time well spent communing with nature, we made our way out of the woods and back to what passes for civilization, pulled pork sandwiches at Dickey’s BBQ Pit. And right tasty they were too.
Next time out, I’ll try and shoot something.