Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
This time of year you will see a great deal of orange clothing out and about.
Sometimes called Hunter's Orange or Blaze Orange - it is the garb du jour around here.
It's been required for deer hunters since 1980 - but it is also a good policy for upland bird hunters, small game hunters and other groups armed with firearms. Knowing that you don't get a Mulligan once a firearm is discharged you want to make sure you are as visible as possible to anyone that's afield and in your vicinity.
Here's an example.
Oops. Here's a more practical example.
Last Saturday I spied a tiny speck of blaze orange atop the escarpment more than a mile and a quarter to the south of my tree. I trained my binoculars on the spot and glassed a hunter in a tree stand sticking-out as plain as the light of day against a background of brown and gray. You couldn't miss him if you tried.
The policy around camp is rather simple. Anytime anyone ventures outdoors - whether it is for a trip to town or a trip to the compost bin - wear your orange.
Even Girlfriend sports a nifty neoprene vest that is black on the bottom and blaze orange on top.
I'll be suiting-up head to toe with the stuff shortly and heading out.
Update 5:45 PM
Spent a good share of today working on day job stuff. A steaming cuppa joe and a warm laptop in front of the woodburner is not all bad. It is blustery and cold.
Low gray clouds scudding across the sky hid the sun. Temps are warmer by about eight degrees than yesterday but the wind is howling. My guess is the wind and the dank humidity make it feel colder than it really is.
Thinking I could hide from the wind I attempted to find refuge in the swamp with my twelve gauge, Remington 870 slug gun.
No way. The wind gusts sent my trees swaying like a corkscrewing crow's nest. One rail of the stand was already busted and creaking trees and falling branches convinced me to head for the ground.
So I took a long slow walk through the tree plantations figuring I might roust a deer bedded-down for the day.
Nothing happening. Not even a shot heard today.
The forecast is calling for rain and snow and overnight lows tomorrow of twelve degrees.