We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Pheasants are an invasive species from China, but they are not very invasive like Burmese Pythons and Iguanas in Florida. In fact, they do not really thrive anywhere in the USA, but they make for good sport and good dog-training where they are found. Friend sent me this pic from a Pheasant hunt in northern Montana a couple of weeks ago (it would have been full of bison and grouse in past years):
Spent a great day in NYC, mainly looking at the Picasso Fontainbleau show at MOMA, urban hiking, and getting to one of our favorite lunch places. Readers know that I am a Picasso junkie, and the amount of varied stuff he produced during a 3-month summer vacation is mind-boggling.
However, on our walking we happened to see the crane lowering the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. Cool.
Lines of people prepare to go into San Marco, but that Byzantine stuff is too much to take in. You could easily spend a day just examining the floors of that place. The Frari church is more of a church. Yes, it's still an active church and monastery but you have to remember that the Venetian population is far less now than it was historically. Probably a third, or less.
My pic is early morning. I am an early (often too early) riser:
"We reached Venice at eight in the evening, and entered a hearse belonging to the Grand Hotel d'Europe. At any rate, it was more like a hearse than any thing else, though to speak by the card, it was a gondola. And this was the storied gondola of Venice!--the fairy boat in which the princely cavaliers of the olden time were wont to cleave the waters of the moonlit canals and look the eloquence of love into the soft eyes of patrician beauties, while the gay gondolier in silken doublet touched his guitar and sang as only gondoliers can sing! This the famed gondola and this the gorgeous gondolier!--the one an inky, rusty old canoe with a sable hearse-body clapped on to the middle of it, and the other a mangy, barefooted guttersnipe with a portion of his raiment on exhibition which should have been sacred from public scrutiny. Presently, as he turned a corner and shot his hearse into a dismal ditch between two long rows of towering, untenanted buildings, the gay gondolier began to sing, true to the traditions of his race. I stood it a little while. Then I said: "Now, here, Roderigo Gonzales Michael Angelo, I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger, but I am not going to have my feelings lacerated by any such caterwauling as that. If that goes on, one of us has got to take water. It is enough that my cherished dreams of Venice have been blighted forever as to the romantic gondola and the gorgeous gondolier; this system of destruction shall go no farther; I will accept the hearse, under protest, and you may fly your flag of truce in peace, but here I register a dark and bloody oath that you shan't sing. Another yelp, and overboard you go.""
That book is written for the general public. Mind-boggling. It is a wonder that it all works so well most of the time. Nothing man can make works as well, for so long. With health, I tend not to be overly curious about why things go wrong, but to be amazed about how anything ever goes right.
I once laughed at a M*A*S*H episode in which a British fellow was commenting on his military's focus on foot hygiene. It was amusing at the time, but over the years I've largely ignored my feet. To my dismay.
I was just over 30 when I had both feet operated on for bunions. That was a vast improvement, but it more or less ended my competitive volleyball days.
I was just over 45 when I suffered severe back trauma which I learned was related to tight hamstrings, and recently learned that was related to my feet.
At any rate, I had one bunion operated on again, it was a big operation, when I was 55. Today, as I inch closer to 62, I have a host of foot problems. Not good for someone planning on hiking the Camino de Santiago in the next few years.
My new podiatrist had nothing good to say about the previous operations. He explained to me they were improper diagnoses of the situation and now there's not much chance any additional surgery will provide relief. He also pointed out something I'd known about but never took seriously. I don't use orthotics.
He did a scan, got me some, and I've got to say my feet feel much better. Not 100%, but at this point I'll take any improvement.
I also now spend a lot of cash for properly-fitted sneakers. I always figured if they fit, they're fine. Over the last year I've learned to take that a little more seriously. Hokas are the new brand - I'll let you know when I get them if they're "all that". At least you can get them sized for width, which is critical for me.
Take care of your feet. Don't ignore them or put off any care the way I have. Big mistake, and fixing what's messed up isn't easily reversible at my advanced age.
MURPHY'S LAW 
Spent a great day in NYC, mainly looking at 
For some reason, in English this 16th C. Venetian artist is known as Titian. Some of his cool masterpieces are in the Frari church in Venice.