Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
The other day I was de-boning a thawed pheasant when the dog tiptoed into the kitchen - nose twitching. Ordinarily she does this when the chopping of raw vegetables occurs as an errant hunk of carrot might miraculously find its way to the floor.
It’s been raining steadily since last night and the farm is one giant, sucking quagmire. The ponds are spilling over. The creek is running. There is standing water all over the place.
Girlfriend and I hit the road before sun-up today and are making our way to the mecca of ringnecks.
Aka Bog Sucker, Bog Bird, Night Partridge, Doodle Bird, Whistling Snipe, or Pewee - the American Woodcock – Scolopax minor is a fascinating critter.
Things were looking rather grim this morning. Gray skies, 40 degrees and rain.
The garden has recovered nicely and fresh veggies are rolling in the door and finding their way to the table and freezer.
The primary nesting season is coming to a close so Girlfriend and I went for a walk in the meadow with little chance of the dog disrupting any ground nesting birds.
Has anyone ever heard of a black lab turning brown? Ours certainly is.
So last Sunday afternoon I returned home from hunting with girlfriend - exhausted. Looking forward to putting my feet-up, I strip down to my long johns and stretch-out in a comfortable chair to read the papers.
Friday night a buddy calls me with the news (make that a notification) that we're going pheasant hunt'n on Sunday.
Last weekend I had an opportunity to participate in some outstanding upland bird hunting.
Had an opportunity to join a couple of my deer hunting buddies this morning at the Crawfish River Hunting Preserve.