Garland’s boar blind for fifteen minutes when I spotted the first hog of the day, trotting from a wallow toward Garland’s crop of bait corn. It was a sow, alas, followed by three other females with piglets in tow—good eating, as they say. But I wasn’t after meat. I had two weeks to bag a boar and...
In honor of her eleventh birthday, she was having a slumber party, but so far, only my best friend, Bonnie, and I had showed. Our mothers had had some kind of powwow, during which they’d smoked cigarettes and worked themselves into a tizzy over how vain and selfish we were getting, finally declar...