Tom Waits ~ 16 Shells from a Thirty-ought-six
I couldn’t finish the hunt. I dropped my grandfather’s rifle and remember him yelling at me….the thirty ought six hadn’t stopped the charging female, mother trying to protect her cub up a tree, Black Bear. He brought her down with his .303’s well placed shot right behind her ear. The cub’s crying haunts me still — I never hunted again. But I think about all that as I sip my single malt and listen to Tom Wait’s tune here. The Flimwell Papers’ Return to the Desk selection for the Music Corner file. Cheers y’all!
