Day four and even the laziest among us are bored. I’ve never been afraid to be lazy, I always figured it was a sign of contentment. But, I was wrong.
When I was a kid, I always wanted to live on a farm. The thought of raising animals, fields to run and of course, a couple of farm dogs to follow me around was my dream.
Farm dogs are big, rambunctious and follow you where ever you go. And on a farm, there are a lot of places to go and explore, sometimes following the dogs and sometimes having the dogs follow you. Either way they are always part of a farm kid.
Being lazy, though, poses a problem: who works the fields, milks the cows, feeds the chickens and of course, who does all the clean-up and chores? My dad, when I’d go into my rant about living on a farm would say I was so lazy I’d sit under an apple tree waiting for an apple to fall into my mouth. There are times I think he was right.
I don’t want to live on a farm anymore, I just want to hunt on one.
With all this time on my hands, it’s easy to daydream. So I think about fall days with changing leaves, browning ferns and white splash over berry bushes and orchard floors. I see easy walking through thicket patches and swamps, being followed by Jake, Duke, Seamus and a pup named Gus, doing his best to keep up with the big dogs. I dream abut making doubles on grouse and woodcock with my old double: a Rossi, 20 ga. I bought for $75 fifty years ago.
But then, something brings me back to reality and suddenly I have a taste of apples in my mouth.