Shooting Quail and Earthquakes.

On saturday, I went with a friend on a ladies only quail shooting day. The shoot took place on a large estate west of Jefferson city, where quail are reared specially for such occasions. If you were hunting them in the wild it would be in the autumn.

Our shooting friends from our previous experience came along to give instruction and to keep us company. They also provided the guns and ammunition. A specially light shotgun had been picked out for me, since I have to do it with one hand. These guns are not light! Shotguns shoot cartridges full of shot, which I know is pretty bloody obvious, but I had never really thought about guns or bullets before. Unlike the cartridges we shot from rifles, these spray out and cover a small area with lots of little pieces of shot. So you've got more of a chance to hit something. It also accounts for all the nasty little pieces of shot you can get if you are eating a pheasant or the like.
The first thing that happens is we are clad in luminous orange, vest and hat, the idea being we avoid shooting each other. We have to get licensed to kill and agree not to sue in case of accident. I sign my life away for a tiny piece of paper.

We started off practising with clay pigeons. These are shot out at a tremendous speed from a suitably placed contraption. My instinct was to try to aim and then fire, but actually it all happens so fast if you stop to aim the thing has come and gone before you shoot. You have to almost let your instincts take over and shoot the minute you see it. A lot harder than you would think. My friend, who has shot before, brought up on a farm in Canada and has two good limbs!! turns out to be a natural. I hit one. I retire quite pleased that I managed that.

Lunch is pulled pork on rolls. Pulled pork is very big here. It is like flaked cooked pork in a sweet, almost chutney like sauce. Alright in limited doses. A bit too sweet. We drink iced tea, despite the fact it is jolly cold and we could have done with hot tea. The water is iced too.

The afternoon is for the massacre. The quail are brought in crates to be put out in the undergrowth, in tiny individual cages.

They are very pretty, but I also know they will taste good! They are not really in with much of a chance, even with those who can't hit anything. We go out in pairs with a hunting dog. When the dog sets, that is he sniffs them out then stands completely still. They are let out of little shoe box like cages and you have about 2 seconds to get em. The odds are very much in our favour and it is very different from hunting them in the wild, when there are lots of them and they shoot off in all directions confusing the enemy. Between the two of us we get a shot at 6 birds. Between us we get 4. I actually hit 2, one I just clip and my friend finishes. The other we both got him at the same time. Instant death. One, I missed and my friend had a gun problem, the last refused to fly. Shooting etiquette, you are not allowed to blast them when they are on the ground. This one just ran and refused to fly- so he got away. Sounds gruesome, but I think you should be prepared to kill what you eat.

This is the hunting dog. Just to make you feel it's the real thing.

I do have a photo of me with the kill, but someone else took it and I haven't received it yet.

Just got it: It's rather small, but I am holding a quail!

It was a very interesting experience, although a bit artificial. This is how you learn. I found shooting the real thing easier than the clay pigeons. It would help to have two good arms and hands, but it's also a good excuse. This is no place to be shy. You have to shoot in front of everyone else. 

My friend did not want her share of the day's work, so I have 4 tasty quail, plucked and ready for when our visitors return from their trip down south. Yum.

 Did I have qualms about killing nice little fluffy birds? No, not really. Killing a deer might be different.

The weather continues to be mad. This was the beginning of the week in Fulton:

This was two days later, the temperature has risen dramatically and the creek round town is over flowing.

It's hot and we are applying sun cream. We have lunch outside.

Roland and his brother surveying the mighty Missouri at Herman.

Next day, we are back to winter coats in Arrowrock, an early settlement to the north.

This is the gun shop.

On the way home we visit Ozarkland. Possibly the biggest collection of crap ever found under one roof. A wonderful place to visit.

We fancied this table!

The temperature hits 80 again and all the students are in their tiny shorts and flip flops. Tomorrow, it will be 40. This is apparently typical of Missouri weather. Unpredictable.

With all the concern over nuclear power and earthquakes, I was feeling very smug and safe here in the middle of Missouri. I was talking to the archivist and she said haven't you heard of the new Madrid earthquakes of 1811 and 1812. I hadn't, but I googled them and was rather taken aback. The tremors were such that they made church bells ring in Boston and what is now Toronto. Pavements cracked in Washington DC. 

New Madrid is in south east Missouri, near the Mississippi, which is said to have flowed backwards for several days. It is considered one of the biggest earthquakes to have occurred in America. They estimate them all to have been 7 and above. 10 times greater than the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. The zone is still active....... 

The moral of this? Do your research before you go round feeling smug!

I will leave you with our college's mission statement heard today in an address by the president:- 

Mission Statement: It shall be the mission of Westminster College to educate and inspire all its students through a distinctive liberal arts curriculum and a dynamic developmental experience; to challenge them to be critically aware, life-long learners and leaders of character, committed to the values of integrity, fairness, respect and responsibility; and to prepare them for lives of success, significance and service.

I don't remember my university having any such aspirations. Too cynical maybe, or just realistic.

The big weekend.

The Churchill weekend was a great success and Fulton has now reverted to it's normal quiet mode.
The gymnasium was transformed with white hangings and very chic table settings. The British Ambassador went through his speech at a cracking pace. A bit too fast. A lot of the better points were lost. It was the usual stuff, how much the Brits and the Americans have in common, about what you would expect. I think his main aim was to be photographed at the podium that Churchill had spoken from, with the same flag behind, and he succeeded. I had a brief word with him afterwards and he was perfectly charming, but one felt it was just another engagement.
 The food wasn't bad, except the pudding, which was disgusting. A tulip shape of very sweet chocolate filled with very stiff strawberry stuff.  Too much thickening and all too sweet.
We retired afterwards to the museum where we had cheese, fruit and port and brandy. Cigars were handed out, which they pointed out could not be smoked, as the whole campus is smoke free. The opposite was true when Churchill visited, when you could smoke, but you couldn't drink! I think you could say things have improved in that respect.
 Some of the attendees had met and talked with Churchill when he visited. They are all getting on a bit now. Most of the people were wealthy Americans with an interest in history and Churchill. Quite a mix, and some from the other side of the country. It was a good evening. The Ambassador went on that night, but the rest of us stayed for the second day.
Brunch was accompanied by a rather dull speech by the sculptor who had been payed a huge amount to produce yet another, completely superfluous as far as I can see, statue of Churchill. It was all about the concept behind it.....yawn yawn. Big benefactors like big, public gestures and this is one. What they could do with is more money to run the place and look after what they have, but that's not very glamorous.
After brunch we had the big lecture by Max Hastings, who was rather jet lagged yesterday, but looks quite bouncy today. It is held in the Wren church, which is rather nice. The sun is shining and the place is filled with light.
It is an interesting lecture, largely based on interviewing people around Churchill and pointing out his flaws as well as his brilliance. Needless to say, Roland is not overly impressed, but it goes down well with the audience. He does know a lot about the period and is very passionate about the subject.
There is then a reception in the museum. More food and drink. Interestingly, they never offer soft drinks.
Sir Max does a sterling job signing books and sells all six boxes full. He doesn't just write his name, he makes each one personal. I think you could say you were getting your money's worth and he doesn't come cheap!
We are asked back to the president's house for dinner, since Max is staying the night. The head of the museum leaves quite early. He is obviously exhausted by all the preparations. We stay on. Roland and Max are yakking away for hours about history, while I talk to Barney and Jane. I like them both. They are very easy company and are are huge asset to the college. Barney is a president who is visible and knows who everyone is. He has created a very nice atmosphere of mutual respect, which I think is quite unusual.

It has been horrifying to see the pictures of the earthquake in Japan and the following tsunami. Some of the footage of the wave coming in is truly terrifying. How would you start to clear it all up? Sadly, it is also taking media attention away from Libya, which is looking pretty disastrous at the moment. It all makes tornados look very small fry.

Our first visitors arrive on tuesday. Roland's brother Francis and wife Wendy. So it will be a sightseeing week and the weather isn't going to be too bad.
On saturday, when they head off down south, I am going grouse shooting! I think the grouse are going to be pretty safe, my chance of hitting anything with one arm is nil. David is kindly coming along to assist. He can't shoot, because it is a women's shoot. We get to take home what we kill, so sadly I think we will be going hungry. Never mind, it will be an experience.
No photos of the big event.

Tornado season.

We have hit the tornado season and have already had two warnings in the last week. A siren goes off in town and you are meant to go down to your cellar or an internal room with as few windows as possible. They don't seem to last for very long. The thing is going to happen or it's not. The sky goes dramatically dark, with a greenish tinge and there is torrential rain and often hail with strong winds. The college take it very seriously and all students are whisked down to basement areas till the danger is over. Tornadoes apparently usually take a path just north of here, above route 70, the interstate between St Louis and Kansas City. The weather causing it is weird. The temperature almost goes up to 70F +, hits the cold air to the north and you get the right conditions for tornadoes. Then the temperature drops dramatically. Yesterday it was hot, today it is freezing.

The so called creek that winds it's way round Fulton, Stinson creek, has been a bubbling brook all winter but now is a raging torrent. We are getting heavy rain and all the snow has melted. It is now a river, with a lot of debris and floating logs. The path is under water in a number of places. The atmosphere has changed.
The grass round here goes brown over winter and it is a mess where snow ploughs have dug it up accidentally. It all looks rather forlorn and drab. We have been told that the cold weather is not over and the farmer's almanac has predicted another 30 inches of snow in March! I can only hope it's wrong.

Stinson Creek in it's benign state.

This is the big weekend for the college. It is the Churchill Weekend.

Sorry, the writing is back to front.
There is a big fund raising dinner, with the British Ambassador as speaker and next day the Kemper lecture, given this year by Sir Max Hastings. For those who have never heard of him he is a journalist, historian and author. There is the dedication of yet another large statue of Churchill, another reception and basically partying all weekend. I will get to dress up for the first time, which will make a change.
The dinner is held in one of the many sports hall's they have. Sounds dreadful, but they do actually transform the place into a rather attractive venue. You would hardly know it was a gymnasium. This is all taken very seriously and days are spent perfecting the tables, lighting, decors etc.
The museum has been cleaned and dusted. We retire there after dinner for cheese, port and brandy and Max Hastings gets to offload his new book on a captive audience.
 I have helped the archivist get a small exhibition together of Churchill memorabilia from their collection. It includes a piece of german propaganda. A crude plaster money box of Churchill crouching, basically with his bum hanging out, doing a poo. It's a money box. I think it's funny, but some apparently think it inappropriate! Too bad, it's out.
I have also become acquainted with flag etiquette. On all these occasions, there are flags. Serious stuff. A flag is never supposed to touch the ground, and americans take that seriously. If it touches the ground it's supposed to be cut up, then burnt or buried within so many hours. I can't see anyone British giving a toss if the British flag fell on the floor, but maybe I'm wrong. On a stage, the American flag stands to the right of the speaker and must be slightly in front of any other flags! I'm afraid I find it all a bit silly, but if you get it wrong, someone will point it out or be offended. You live and learn.
We have got out the British flag that was hanging behind Churchill when he gave his Fulton speech and the podium he spoke from. The British Ambassador is very keen to be speaking from the same podium, with that same flag! Wonder why! The flag has seen better days, but we managed to get it on a flag pole topped with the original silver head from the beadle's staff from St Mary's Aldermanbury, our Wren church. It is much nicer than the gold plastic eagle on top of the American flag- tee hee.
The British Ambassador has the reputation of being a bit of a bully and was Tony Blair's advisor on foreign affairs for a while. Nils points then, as far as I am concerned but I doubt we get any where near him. Max Hastings is staying a second night, so we might get to talk to him at the president's house at the last party of the weekend. We will be exhausted, we are out of practice!
Witterings over for now. I will leave you with some completely irrelevant photos.

This is a woodpecker of which there are rather a lot. They are just starting to get frisky.

The tiny blob of red in the middle is a cardinal, not that you can tell from this photo.
Well I must go and get some exercise before all this eating and drinking.