Isn't that just the way it goes . . .

Hubby and I went for our Sunday afternoon drive and came upon a group of pheasant hunters, togged out in bright day-glo orange vests, guns held at the ready.

They were walking in a straight line, but spread out, so as to flush any birds up that might be hiding ahead. Two dogs were prancing out front of the group and a four-wheeler with two people on it was keeping up with the pace of the men alongside the field's edge.

"Wow, looks like quite an operation," I said to Hubby as we drove past.

We were headed north of town to see where we had heard operations for the coming wind farms were beginning to set up shop.

After we'd seen what we wanted, we started back the way we had come but I slowed and pulled over before we got to the area the men were so diligently scouring for birds.

"I don't think I want to go past them again," I said.

"Why?"

"What if a bird flushes out from cover and someone ends up shooting our car? Stranger things have happened."

So we turned right to make our way back to town by another route. After we had driven west for no more than a quarter of a mile, we saw five gorgeous cock pheasants just to our left at the road's edge.

And we burst out laughing.