I spoke recently with my neighbor Antonia. I talked to him about the northern fishing, and he talked to me about the local hunting, to which his father instilled his love.
He told me how he walked on a duck for the first time. further from his face.
I went to the lake, placed on the water the manches, gifted by my father, and I went to the shelter, waiting for the arrival of birds. I wait. No movement for 3 hours. Adrenaline is out of the blood. From boredom got a lipstick on the duck, began to "crush". He moved smoothly to the motives of football screams. So melodically "scrambling", came out of his legs. I immediately sat down. At 70 meters, in a place not visible from the scrap, the ducks sat on the water. Shooting at them from here is useless, only scaring.
I have to polish. I picked one of the paths that went in the slopes to the other side, and flooded. And in 20 meters I encounter the same slipper with a gun.
Hi to you. I whispered and greeted him.
Surprise than politeness.
“Hi,” the man also whispered, “where are we going?
Behind the cat.
Oh yeah, I too. You are not there, the duck is there. He showed me for
The back.
The duck is there. I assuredly pointed in the opposite direction.
I’m not afraid of ducks, I’m not afraid of them, but of them, you know.
Dick and I don’t hide from them.
From the youth. There, the seedling crawled, apparently, all over the morning. No is
Have you heard what? The man barely held his voice.
He is? I got the manocks and threw down “ole, ole, ole, Russia is the champion.”
Blah to blah! He did not hold back.
They met. When he drank the tea, he smiled. Okay, says Antonha, that you and I walked along the same path and met. They would have shot each other manki, a hundred pounds.