Dovius Festivus

Dove Festival, in case you aren't familiar, is an annual celebration where Hamiltonians and Hunters from all around come back to their fine city to celebrate the opening season of the delicious bird that is the dove. Peaceful creature, yes. Good in gravy...that too.

Here's a look at Dove Fest Past:

Wonderful.

You've got all the makings of a good time during Dove Festival Weekend: old friends, family, turkey legs, funnel cake, carnival rides that may or may not have been deemed safe by...anyone, the parade, the dance, and this year: a petting zoo. While I myself did not pay three dollars to pet a miniature water buffalo, my niece did, and she seemed about as into it as the camel was.

This guy was literally passed out the entire time to what looked like the brink of death, and the baby goats kept climbing on him and jumping off his hump. I thought camels could stand the heat? And anyway, the weather was lovely, it was only about 90 degrees. Buck up, camel.

Not only is DFW about running around the Fair Grounds and bumping into people you may or may not want to see, it's also about napping and hunting. At approximately four o'clock in the afternoon on Saturday of DF Dub, the entire town disappears to A) their homes for nap time/football, or B) a tank in a pasture for dove killing time. Since I don't like to sleep my life away, especially during an eventful weekend like this, I chose B with one of my oldest and bestest. Dad let me borrow a 16 gauge and Brady and I headed out to Pottsville where we killed zero birds but we did get to witness the most spectacular musical showings of about 148 bull frogs while the sun was setting. Amazing to say the least. I wasn't even mad we didn't see many dove. And anyway, now I've got my license, so birds beware. Or not, because I'm a pretty terrible wing shot. I can certainly get a skillet shot, though. (That's Hey-Hey speak for a dove in a tree because, well, he's basically already in the skillet).

I did not go to the dance this year because I'm pretty positive that everyone I grew up with is either married, in some sort of meaningful relationship, or afraid to ask me to dance. What with the height and all... apparently I'm a force to be reckoned with for some men. Geez louise. Instead I went out with Taylor Dane and we had a grand time, chit chatting about old times, (ie: Taylor biting me until I bled), and of course catching up on the gossip that has been floating around about myself and those that I love. But that's what you get with Small Town, USA: boredom. And from that boredom, of course, comes lies. Naturally...

I wish I could have stayed another day with my friends and family, and I'm sorry there were some at the Fest who I did not get to see. Until next year...!