Up in Stan's neck of the woods over the Christmas holidays in 2014, I was by myself hunting woodcock. On a swamp road, I ran into a tricked-out Polaris with dog boxes full of squirrel feist dogs. It was a multi-generational group of granddad, dad and his sons and daughters from about 10 to teenage. What couldn't ride in the Polaris was walking. They were all carrying shotguns. Never did catch their names, but it was a neat thing to see. Gil