When I was just a tween I was wrangled in on a camping trip with a group of friends to the Wichita Mountains in Oklahoma. There I took in my first snipe hunt, although I think we were just old enough not to fall for this bit and it backfired on the only adult that was with us that weekend.
It was a memorable weekend of nudging buffalo and roasting hot dogs and freshly caught snipe by the fire. We visited Fort Sill, and I remember being so moved by the cell which held the famous Apache warrior Geronimo. The small cell had a deeply worn crevasse where he had paced the floor millions of times. Continue reading