Tales from the backyard: Sitting on the back porch drinking a glass of wine, looking out over the backyard, a flock of pigeons flew past and it reminded me of days of yore. Owning bird dogs and training them means you need pigeons. Not owning any meant I had to catch them. So over beers one evening I convinced my pals that we should go out and do just that. I knew of a farm not far away that had what seemed like several hundred, so off we went. The prudent thing to have done was to go ask, but we decided it would be more fun not to. Arriving at the farm we crossed the fence and entered through a ramp the farmer used to haul and dump his pig manure. Up the ramp we went and found the ladder to the loft. After catching a few birds, we heard the farmer yell, "Who's out there" and off we scattered trying to get back to the truck. Ron and Jon both retraced their steps but I took a shortcut and jumped out the barn window, landing in 2 feet of you know what, and then having to wade through it until I hit dry ground. Even though I owned the truck, they made me sit in the back and they wouldn't let me in to the tavern for another round.
