OH, SHOOT! 



Confessions of Two Agitated Sportsmen 



GEESE 



MOST men enjoy hunting, or would if 

 they had a chance, but there is a small, 

 abnormal minority who are hopeless addicts to 

 the chase. To them the fiscal year begins 

 with the opening of the deer season or the 

 start of the duck flight, and ends when "birds 

 and quadrupeds may no longer be legally 

 possessed." They are the fellows who wrap 

 their own fish rods, join outing associations, 

 and wear buckskin shirts when they disap- 

 pear into the trackless wastes of Westchester 

 County for the club's annual potlatch and 

 big-game lying contests. 



To this class I belong. I offer what follows 

 not as an excuse, but as a plea in extenuation. 

 It is a feeble effort to paint the optimistic soul 



