We do love hunting the flyover country. The Great Plains and its small towns, where the pace is slow, the people are mostly friendly, and the food is fried. These are places rich in Western history, where we ponder the tough souls that lived and died on the land and the relics they left behind. Vast sections of public land still remain here, wild places where self-reliance is mandatory, and the beauty of God’s creation is on dramatic display. Something is endearing about the modest accommodations, the lack of opulence, the absence of pretense, and the value of functional utility in the rural West. We certainly enjoy the sparse humanity and the consequent silence of these desolate places. I do lament the dying rural communities we see that once had a purpose but are now dilapidated ruins, holding on, rotting in disrepair until they disappear into forgotten history.
I do hope you enjoy these pictures from our hunt.
Henry, on top of the world!
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