My little hamlet of Easton here in the People's State of Maryland celebrates the mass slaughter of winged game birds annually duing this weekend, in what is called The Waterfowl Festival. The Kitten's mother--who owns the land surrounding our bit of it--allows a few local gentlemen to use her fields for their hunting, and just a few seconds ago, I heard the first reports from their field pieces. Fall is begun on the Shore. I love this time of year.
I'll get out a time or two myself and take a crack at the transiting birds, and we'll have a healthy supply of gooseflesh over the Winter from that and from offerings from friends. I usually do some to pick on before Thanksgiving, and our annual New Years Day gathering feasts upon it and The Kitten's tasty oyster stew.
We have a full weekend of fall activities, what with the festival, a horseshow for kitten #2, and a Pig/Oyster Roast tomorrow afternoon for a local politician with a very bright future.
Life goes on in my little slice of Heaven.
Oh, and speaking of Heaven--welcome back to the digital pages of this blog The Hammer, fresh from his consistently predicted victory over the forces of evil in the recent election.