It was a lovely cool Sunday morning as I listened to the ringing in my ears. Not even the birds were chirping on this morning. Too many clay pigeons killed with a shotgun at the pheasant hunting facility where I worked for a few years.
You could shoot five stand (you stand in one place while clay targets are thrown and rolled from all directions) or you could wander down the creek and shoot targets thrown into the air. Then there was always pheasant hunting. You buy five or six birds which were released on the property. If you got them, we cleaned and gutted them for you. There's nothing like sticking your hand inside a ... well I won't go into that part. I've had a lot of "different" jobs in my short life.
This is pretty much my every morning view ... Cooper puts the ball on the coffee table so I will toss it across the room. He fetches, you throw, etc. etc.