Larry Dablemont

With the pain hammering me with each heartbeat, Christy took over, and drove me back to the border, to International Falls, Minnesota. There was no doubt what was happening; the pain was tremendous.

That flock of eleven is something I will not forget seeing. We didn’t get a deer that afternoon; in fact, we never even saw one. We did see a wild gobbler and a half-grown wild pig, coal black, and hard to see in the underbrush.

Floating down the river in November and December of the 1960s as a kid with my dad, hunting mallards and wood ducks from our old johnboat, if we saw a few Canada geese on the river and actually had a chance to bring one home, it was a never to be forgotten experience.