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Pearson and I were driving through the Fingers Lakes, from Skaneateles to Seneca Lake, on a beautiful summer day in 2011. The sky was blue with puffy white clouds; we passed cornfields and cows grazing on lush green farms. As we rolled through Ovid, NY, Pearson slowed. A man was in his yard wearing a tan safari outfit complete with a pith hat, holding a rifle, and creeping closer and closer to the only tree in a field. The scene reminded me absurdly of Fearing and Loathing in Las Vegas—and come to think of it, maybe he was stalking a bat. We desperately wanted to stop and find out what he was doing, however there wasn’t another house or person around and he had a gun, so we drove on. Continue reading