These beautiful Fall days trigger some wonderful memories of my parents. During hunting season, they would load my brother and me in the car and embark on a Sunday afternoon of road hunting. I'd sit in the back seat with my homework in my lap, basking in the October sunshine and enjoying the outing. Upon spotting a ditch-dwelling pheasant, Dad would slam on the brakes, jump from the front seat---leaving the door wide open---and bag the bird with one shot. In those days, pheasants were very plentiful and he'd get his limit in a short time. Then came the best part---Mother's cooking. Nobody could pan fry a pheasant like my mom. Unfortunately, most of our grandchildren will never have the pleasure of eating pheasant under glass or any other way.
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