Well, when the hunt is over tomorrow, and we're just in the truck and ready to head home, I'll pull out the flask full of "Fireball", and let each take a well deserved pull on it.
Once back at the house, the wife will serve generous portions of finger foods.
There will be hot spicey Beer Brats, our special Nachos heaping with lean spicey burger, extra sharp chedder/pepperjack cheese, fortified with thin sliced jalapeno pepper bits, and onions. Great bowls of sour cream, and salsa, with a side of steaming hot dipping chili.
She will probably make a pitcher full of 'Duck Farts' to be passed around, or Gin and Tonics to taste. And it matters not what the flavor, all are referred to as "Aiming Fluid", and that is magical stuff!
By and by, the aiming fluid gradually leads to each miss during the hunt being dissected, and generally forgiven, and soon forgotten, while each kill is embellished into "Hall of Fame" status. What fun!
This is an 'Opening day' tradition, and it doesn't matter what opening day it is. Dove, Duck, or Pheasant. All are celebrated in such fashion.
Is it any wonder that we count the days until....and damn the Summer?
Last edited by Fsbirdhouse
on Fri Oct 04, 2013 8:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
So the words Fall and Autumn are not to be capitalized?
They are in my world.