In winter, snow geese land at West Pond, a Robert Moses legacy that ought to be called Duck Soup: at this time of year look for ruddies, greater scaups, Northern pintails, American widgeons and gadwalls.
The dogs were no sooner let loose, than the hare was afoot. This time there was no stopping or casting, but the hounds were soon in full cry, and after half-an-hour's run, the hare came dancing down the moor towards me.
Brazil is quintessentially Gilliamesque, in blurring the distinction between real and dream-states, sane and mad, inside and outside...
The Derby Carriage Works foreman, when informed that this coach was to be run at 90 m.p.h. to obtain information on bogie hunting, is reported to have offered one succinct word of advice - Don't!
Don't!
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