Auld Acquaintance

by Dale C. Spartas
A photographic journal.
From the February/March 2008 issue.

Some folks gather in crowds to cheer descending balls on New Year’s Eve. Not us. We go bird hunting in a little spot only we know, a place so precious we hunt there only three times a season.

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It’s quite a crew—my pup Meg, Kevin’s Sage and Kate, Dave’s Hailey, and Hankster the Gangster. We hunt together “from morning sun till dine,” and then we grown-ups take a cup of kindness, yet. For auld lang syne.

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