Every year, on September 1st (unless it falls on a Sunday) the men of Rice assemble, those who can get time off work, that is, and go on the annual dove quest. It also happens to be the birthday of Doran Charles Rice, Sr., someone who just loved to hunt and dreamed of grandsons going to, and winning, shooting competitions. So, in a way, we commemorate his birth by going out and shooting little birds. It used to be easier, but since Phoenix/Glendale/Peoria, and other great hunting areas, have spread, it is VERY DIFFICULT to get a bird. Hey, if it were easy, it wouldn't be called 'hunting'...right?
I decided that, this year, they would have a breakfast, so I made cinnamon rolls the day before (sorry, no hot ones...can't get to the oven, etc. without waking one of the hunters).
They ate, loaded up, and left. Within two hours, they returned. Ethan was the big hunter: he got 5, Dee got 2, Nate got 1, which he almost lost to our dog, Beau.
Dee and I went out for the evening hunt, but our trip was full of "forgets" and so, by the time he got to hunt, and the game and fish officer had checked out his license, the good birds were gone home to bed.
Oh, well...it was fun, anyway. And, as I said, if it were easy, it wouldn't be called hunting!
Oh, by the way, we always have a pot of dove stew on opening day, but since the spoils of hunting were very small, we had Hawaiian Teriyaki Chicken. Good, but not as good!
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