The first shooter shouldered her gun and said “pull” into a microphone at her hip. A clay pigeon flew out of the trap house. The report of a shotgun rang out. There was a pause, and then the next shooter said “pull.”
EPHRATA – As the sun faded, my desperation grew. I'd spent most of a day trying to convince the fat rainbow trout of Rocky Ford Creek to eat something. Scuds and mayfly nymphs were ignored. So were olive wooly buggers.