Each year in mid to late November, you would see them walking toward the house from mid-afternoon until just before dusk — generally one or two at a time, and sometimes more.

Some wore their work clothes, while others wore some type of camo or dull clothing. They all wore boots or work shoes, and none were hatless. Occasionally, you would see a man bringing his son.

I don’t believe we had zombies back in those days, but if we did, these men and boys surely would have set the mood. They all carried firearms — from shotguns to pistols, and here and there a small-caliber rifle, with lots of ammo swinging in a bag at their waist. Each bag had a large opening for quick access to more ammo.

These people did not speak — at least not loudly. They all had stern, driven looks on their faces. Some were there smoking,

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