The Wild West

Yesterday was our triumphant return from the Great White North. We're back from exploring the uncharted American Frontier. We blazed a trail across the West.

OK, we went to Pocatello for the weekend. I was just trying to make it sound exotic. If you count chasing squirrels as exotic, then our weekend was just like an African safari. We came inches away from animals some people never see in their lifetime: squirrels and crows. We also got some great wildlife photos of a giant beetle.

After I told the kids we could keep any animal they caught, Scott and I watched them try to sneak up on squirrels as Scott regaled me with a story from his childhood:

Bruce and Uncle Marlon used to throw a bunch of kids in the back seat and take them pheasant hunting. They'd have loaded shotguns on their laps and plenty of brown licorice to keep the kids busy. This one particular time, Bruce spotted a bunch of pheasants and shouted to Marlon to get out and shoot them, which he did. At about that moment, they noticed the sign that said, "Absolutely no hunting. Wildlife preserve." The poor pheasants had their wings clipped. Bruce grabbed the injured birds, threw them in the back seat with the kids and tore off down the road. Marlon was souting, "Drive!! Drive!!" The kids were screaming, the birds were flapping all over the car, bleeding everywhere.

A few miles down the road, the men pulled over to put the pheasants out of their misery. It was a very quiet ride home, followed by a big pheasant dinner. Can you blame Scott for refusing to eat the meat? Marlene understood and told Scott she'd fix him some chicken. She went in the kitchen with a plate of pheasant and came back 30 seconds later with a plate of "chicken," which Scott gobbled up. He's still in therapy.

Now you know why Scott doesn't hunt animals. Instead, he spends his Saturdays in Pocatello, hunting for fun things to do. Entertainment in Pokey is about as elusive as the fabled Jackalope, but we found some fun in the form of the hotel pool, ice cream with Coco and Bill, dinner and 4-wheelers at Jen's parents' house way up in the mountains, and little Zachary's blessing on Sunday. Zeljko gave him a beautiful blessing. It was an honor for Scott and my dad to participate, and for us to be there with them. Sometimes, even when you're in southeastern Idaho, you know you're in the right place at the right time.

Since we didn't have any dead birds in the car to eat on the way home, we stopped in Malad at Me and Lou's Cafe for a wonderful meal. No pheasant. No "chicken," either. Just good, home-style food to top off a great weekend.