Dwight Dyke Birds
Saturday morning I got up early, dressed quietly, made my lunch, grabbed the dog, slipped quietly into the garage to load my pheasant hunting gear into the truck, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour.
The wind was blowing 50 mph. I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad throughout the day.
I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed.
There I cuddled up to my wife’s back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, ‘The weather out there is terrible.’
My loving wife of 20 years replied, ‘Can you believe my stupid husband is out pheasant hunting in that crap?’
I still don’t know to this day if she was joking, but I have stopped hunting.