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S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S • 95 E arly afternoon, first Saturday in September. Two old men with two old bird guns, seeking shade from the hot Georgia sun beneath three ancient Chinaberry trees in the northwest corner of a freshly cut millet field on the southeast side of Elbert County. One is 11 months removed from a near- fatal heart attack, the other barely seven months returned from Africa where he suffered a stroke. Both of us well along the road to recovery, and again hunting doves. I t was my first trip afield following that long journey back from the edge, and I had been stringently warned not to get too hot or too tired. For his part, my longtime sidekick Bob Matthews had been deep in buffalo country in Tanzania when, first, the use of his vision went awry, and then his whole left side shut down twice in the span of a few minutes, and he realized he was in trouble. His arduous trek out of the deep African bush, then back to Dar es Salaam and finally, across the broad Atlantic was still something of a blur to him, and so were the interminable days and weeks that followed. As were my own. Ramblings by michael altizeR Two old men wiTh Two old guns, on a long walk back Through Time. But now, here we sat together with our friends and our water, our ice, our shotguns, and our newfound hope, eight miles out of Elberton, waiting for the afternoon flight of doves to begin. Brian and Bud had already ventured across the field and to take their stations among the round bales and bushes that dotted the sun-baked landscape before us, while me'n Bob and Duncan and Chuck sat talking about birds and dogs and guns and literature in the cool, soothing shade. A few wisps of cirrus clouds lightly brushed the deep-blue, late-summer sky, and a pair of sharp-shinned hawks worked the updrafts, spiraling high into the air above the powder-dry, sun- soaked field that stretched three- quarters of a mile to a narrow little tar- and-gravel two-lane. The first dove of the afternoon rocketed past from the trees at our back just after 3:00, and a few seconds later we heard four receding shots as we tracked the unscathed bird across the sky. At 3:30 Duncan headed out into the As fine a pair of Purdey guns as you're ever likely to find, poised and ready for a go at Georgia doves.