It had been a long three day pheasant hunt for Scott, Dwayne and I. For this Thanksgiving hunt, Scott invited his wife’s cousin from Kentucky. Dwayne is a friendly, slow drawly speaker who missed a lot of birds and fell down a lot. He had to have fallen into every burrow, hole and indentation in the prairie. His theory was that once you started falling, you stood a better chance of hurting yourself if you tried to stop your plummet. So Dwayne fell, and fell, and fell. I was starting to believe that he kept falling just to have an excuse to take a break from walking.
Weary from walking and a few birds heavier we headed for home. Somewhere around Salina we stopped for gas, food and to use the restroom. Instead of taking his place at the line of truck stop urinals, Dwayne made his way into one of the stalls.
Me: You must have had to go worse that I do.
Dwayne: Nope, I just need to pee.
Me: Then why did you go into the stall?
Dwayne: I’m just too tired to stand up.
At that moment I knew that two things were true. First, all that falling down in the field was just an excuse to take a break after all. And second, pheasant hunters from Kentucky sit down to pee.