Killing For Sport By Paul Yoder on reprint from my blot Saturday, March 6, 2021 I shiver in the cold, damp pre-dawn darkness, my pants wet from the waist high weeds as I push my way along the edge of the field. The soft hooting of an owl startles me and the hair on the back of my neck bristles as the eerie sound echos hauntingly through the trees.
Killing For Sport
Killing For Sport
Killing For Sport
Killing For Sport By Paul Yoder on reprint from my blot Saturday, March 6, 2021 I shiver in the cold, damp pre-dawn darkness, my pants wet from the waist high weeds as I push my way along the edge of the field. The soft hooting of an owl startles me and the hair on the back of my neck bristles as the eerie sound echos hauntingly through the trees.