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I just took three pictures of an interesting morning

Unca Walt

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#1
The first was Fancy Pants, peeking in my dining room window from his fave spot:

bench peacock.jpg


Hey -- I just noticed: You can see my flag in the above shot.

Awright, then I went out before it got too hot (about 88 now) and tried two 12-shot series at 25 feet with my Ruger Single Six. I was quite surprised. I think my Spinal medicine helped steady my hands. I was surprised because I really could not see the target clearly at all. Old eyes.

12 shot targets.jpg


Then, Herself came swanning by, and as I had the fargin camera in my hand, I took a picture. She has never dyed her hair. Ever. What you are looking at is witchery, no error. She'll be 78 next month. IMPOSSIBLE. She has never gone gray.


PC red hair at 78.jpg
 

GOLDBRIX

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^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Not too many Red-heads do. My grandmother's didn't ,and my brothers is just sun-bleached orange in the summer time.
 

D-FENZ

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#3
The first was Fancy Pants, peeking in my dining room window from his fave spot:



Hey -- I just noticed: You can see my flag in the above shot.
Hey Unca. Sure hope that's not your fave bench. I can almost smell it from here in that shot...
 

Unca Walt

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Hey Unca. Sure hope that's not your fave bench. I can almost smell it from here in that shot...
Oh, yeah! It don't stink, but when it is raining that bench is guaranteed occupied. By a fifteen-pound birdie. Every now and then, Herself lays a cold, hard eye on me (and that feels just as disgusting as it sounds) and has me pressure-clean the bench. AND the brick "floor" under it.

Ah, well, might as well mention: On the other side of the porch is another great wildie rain-shelter -- under the front door cupola by the dragon-summoning gong. Yeah, there's a huge fargin gong out there with a note:

"For Walt and PC, ring the doorbell. To summon the Dragon, use the gong."

Where was I? Oh. And I haveta pressure clean that area also.

It's worth it. When I was out shooting this morning, Fancy Pants would let out a screeching ki-yoodle after about every third shot. Fun.
 
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Goldhedge

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#6
MIL was 87 when she left us and had dishwater blond hair. Wife has the same hair and no grey at 60.
 

Unca Walt

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Feral cats, yes. They killed the baby peafowls. :tongue::oops:

But Fancy Pants and Big Boy are pets... I guess. I was out shooting the spinner targets last year. When I stopped to reload, the fargin crazy-ass peacock decided to help me with the spinners: ran over and began pecking them! :dog: