I'm 61 too, and am now too gimpy to follow a hunting dog through the grouse coverts. Regrets? Only that I would have done even more hunting and less working than I did.

I was on the road to Tinkhamtown once, but thankfully wandered off the trail and couldn't find my way back on. Of course, when I think of my dad and other lost hunting pardners waiting for me there...

I betcha Michael has a shooting bench there on the edge of town and is putting a Niedner through its paces as we speak!