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Greg wanted to shoot birds with the new camera, especially eagles. I had heard there was an Eagle nest out by Brawny Lake so that’s where we headed. Greg had his driver’s license so I freed my Porsche from storage, and we drove the better part of an hour on a brisk, sun-filled spring day, perfect for hiking even if we didn’t find the bald eagles. Greg had never been in a Porsche before and was thrilled to drive it. He fondled the soft ivory leather, had a hundred questions about the buttons on the dash, and would have played with them all, had I not prodded him to drive. We had a way to go, upwards of an hour travel time.
Away from the city we passed farms with tall silos, horses roaming and feeding inside white picket fences, lots of cows, some standing, others lying down. Someone on
