Out hunting, talking is frowned upon. Yet the followers jabber on about every sort of thing, becoming deaf and blind to the excitement around them. They trudge all over the countryside, without noticing a thing. Running by, you’ll hear two middle aged women complimenting each other’s new boots or vest. Up the line from them, the mayors of neighboring towns talk strategy. But the worst offender stands alone in the woods, ordering false eyelashes. No, it’s not a woman looking to adorn her eyes, it’s the mortician, planning out an upcoming funeral. Undertakers should never take business calls in public.
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