Sport: Killing Season

Bright & early on Thanksgiving morn, as usual, the poor man's hunting season got its start in North Carolina. Short-legged, flop-eared beagles sniffed into brush-piles and thickets, set up a howl when they flushed a rabbit, worked it back before the hunters' guns. Some wistful old rabbit hunters were willing to settle just for the music of the hounds' high-pitched cry; others set their mouths for rabbit stew. The guns blazed away.

Farther north, the biggest and noisiest hunting show the U.S. had ever known was already well under way. There were few pheasant, practically no ruffed grouse, few duck, but...

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