Woman Midwest-style

Considering that humans can also be on the menu of the largest of predators, I had what I'd say was my worst scary moment while deer hunting twelve years ago.        Remnants of light snow clung to the grass on the southern slope of the open field, the icy patches barely clung to the brown grass... frozen white spots in an abstract painting mottled brown and white with the frigid, sunny morning. Stiff weeds softly crunched underfoot as I still-­hunted. My slightest step could rouse a deer.  Ed had gone into the woods on the north plateau of the timbered ridge, his 'climber' on his back and 30.06 in hand. I envied him having that strength, but my restless legs have been cursed with a childlike tendency, cramping up so I can’t sit still for very long. Easier to head back to the vehicle seeking warmth than to struggle down with a tree stand.  Bundled for cold, I was very content to stalk with the attentiveness of native ancestors.  

Things to consider weight trigger grip length grip diameter ergonomics eye dominance If a gun you’re holding requires you to stretch your index finger in order to reach the trigger, there’s a good chance your rounds will impact left of your point of aim (assuming you’re right-handed). That’s because with too little finger on the trigger it’s difficult to press the trigger directly rearward.  In such a case, your right index finger tends to push the trigger, and therefore the muzzle, to the left.  A right-handed shooter with too much finger on the trigger is likely to experience the opposite problem.  The trigger tends to be pulled to the right, and consequently, the rounds will impact to the right of the point of aim.    As a new shooter, in the previous post, the author writes he didn’t understand the emphasis on the phrase “press the trigger” because to me it seemed you “pulled” the trigger to fire a gun.  An instructor told him the word “press” denoted a more precise

published "Poetic Voices of America" Sparrowgrass collection, 1992 The river runs deep with forbidden secrets, leery of intrusion to a trusted few. Swirling past knowledge held sacred, the current utters in whisper to protect its truth. Mindful of nature's fruitful song, winged creature glides gracefully midst times reminiscent. All Mother's lore upon renaissance greeted; championship welcome, rejoicing flourishes to noble tune. The orb's brilliant glow sifts through the gaiety; nocturnal proclamation sings cheery note. With the wilderness' keepsake of promise, the river flows timeless. Embracing dawn's iridescent crystal hues -- held close, breathless for remembrance to savor. The beckoning river sparkles slivered images to crest anticipation, entices delightful with adventure to possess for the winged glider its sole crusador. by Patricia Joy-Frommer,  1990