D. Boon Cilled a Bar..
every year, 2-3 legitimate pheasant hunters (glen perkins, kurt weber, and/or matt addington), 1 very well trained hunting dog (sogn or sophie) and 1 very decidedly inept shot (kevin m slowey) make a six hour drive out of the cities, through the beautiful north dakota countryside, and into a small town of 65 people situated on top of a modest hill, surrounded on all sides by fields of corn, soybeans and sunflowers..
after an evening of unpacking (kurt), aero-inflating (glen) and cooking (kevin), the group will set their respective iphone alarms (clock alarms just arent reliable enough) and retire for the night…
the next day, and all of its successors, go something like this….
6am – awaken to a trio of alarms
6:30 – breakfast (something excellent: eggs and skillet potatoes, pancakes, and the like)
7:15 – start the truck and hope the interior thaws by the time we take out
7:35 – pack up the food and drinks for the day, pile in the truck (still frozen), and head out
8:30-6:45 – under the direction of general k. weber …(who, i am convinced, possesses the keen directional sense that would have allowed him to out-maneuver crazy horse at little big horn, if only he had been there)…push fields, walk crp, jump sloughs, and even wander some PLOT land..
7:00 – arrive back home at the cabin with a 8-12 rooster haul, exhausted but thrilled, and ready to dine
7:30 – as gen. weber makes quick work of bird cleaning (he could do it blindfolded im sure) , the remainder of our party prepares dinner (venison, brisket, bison tips)
9:30 – wander over to the quencher bar (yes, a town of 67 people has a bar (and a post office, and a cafe))
11:00 – retire for the evening
and so, that is how i ended up in hague, north dakota, enjoying the
company of the 63 others who populate the town, hunting a bird native to