The American Spectator

p> SAFETY LESSONS br> Re: Lawrence Henry’s Elementary — and Appalling : /p>

While Mr. Henry is quite right to lash the press about their self-important whining about this issue, and to ding the Vice President’s gun handling, his article also implies that Mr. Cheney had fired a shot at quail running along the ground.

He’s correct that that would be very unsportsmanlike behavior if it happened. But there’s no evidence of this in any of the accounts I’ve seen of the incident. To the contrary, Whittington was sprinkled by Mr. Cheney’s birdshot in the face, not the feet. That’s entirely consistent with a flushed bird flying along at six or seven feet above the ground — something I’ve seen them do several times.

p>Unless there is some reason to accuse the Vice President of bad sportsmanship, I hope Mr. Henry will refrain from giving the administration’s enemies this kind of ammunition. They’re considerably less responsible with it than is Mr. Cheney. br> — Clint Taylor br> Stanford, California /p>

When the news broke about the hunting accident the Vice President had it brought to mind a number of things… the first of which is to know where all your hunting party is at all times, and secondly, if you were separated never never walk up on someone without calling out first. Clearly, there was a mistake. Thankfully, Mr. Whittington will be fine. I am certain the MSM were so worried about his health, considering the tone of the news conferences yesterday and the badgering they did of Scott McClellan about it all. So very worried they were… right! They were only hoping someone had been killed so it could feed their frenzy.

Having been raised on a ranch I once went dove hunting with my Dad. I was a grown woman and while I had deer hunted with him, I had missed the opportunities to ever go bird hunting. We hid behind a water tank (that is pond to folks outside Texas), and ever so often Dad would point out the birds as they flew in. I shot several and was so elated. I told Dad… gee, I cannot wait to tell my husband how many I bagged today. Dad sat up slowly and grinned and said, “Just don’t tell him you shot them on a high-line (utility lines)!” Until that moment I hadn’t known I was doing anything wrong. We still laugh over that in my home.