A bad day for flying, too.

Ponderosa Pines on Turtle Ridge

So, maybe you can still catch a bite, right? In the fall rye? You know, the vegetable field, past and future tense?

Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk! (As one says at times like this.)

Just plain murky. Can hardly see a thing.

But one can be seen, that’s the thing. Yes. And five minutes later up we go!

Crikes. Everybody keep together!

But, no. Half an hour later, goose is not on the menu tonight. Just wet feet.

A closer look at that big sage bush, maybe?

Good hunting, old friend.