Many years ago when I was a student at North High School, I would spend weekends during pheasant season hunting with two of my teachers, Bob Newbrough and coach Jordan "Turk" Eliades.

It was early last spring when my hunting partner, Steve Newbrough, and I were just loafing around the edges of our duck pond after the close of waterfowl season that year.

All you readers who have been following my comments this past waterfowl season will know that I have done nothing but moan and groan about how poor the hunting was.

A few weeks ago I mentioned an email that I had received from my old shooting teammate Phil Murray. It was one of the nicest notes I had ever read. It made me think about another note I had got last year from one of my readers, Larry D. Kelley.

I have a vivid memory of one morning during the initial 1970s when a young man, who appeared to be in his early 20's, walked into my office at Barnes Big O Tire on the Garces Circle, and asked for a job.

During all the many years I was able to film hunts in Canada, I usually flew out of Meadows Field if I was with a group of local hunters. One quick stop in Denver, and then on to Edmonton, Alberta.

A few weeks ago I received my monthly magazine from the National Skeet Shooting Association. There was a terrific article in it, written by a California shooter by the name of Chris Baker, about the Kern County Gun Club. Boy, did that bring back memories.

During the past two years writing columns, I've always looked forward to feedback from readers. Many times they tell me how much they enjoyed a particular story, and asked if I could run it again sometime so that one of their friends who missed it might read it.

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of attending the annual Kern County Bob Elias Sports Hall of Fame dinner at the Marriott downtown. What a great night that honors so many terrific local athletes and champions in so many fields.

Readers may remember some months ago I wrote a couple of columns about Black Brant hunting on the Pacific coast. This is a small goose that migrates down from Alaska, stopping at a number of bays in Washington, Oregon, and California, before ending up in the Mexican province of Baja California.

Earlier this summer I got to thinking about all the trips I used to take up to the area above Sacramento for waterfowl when I was a young hunter: Drive non-stop on old Highway 99 for seven hours, and sleep in the car until time to enter the refuge.