Wow. A whole month without a single post.

Rifle season was highly uneventful. Only item of note was catching a Montezuma death cough from my 8-year-old daughter. Really brought my shotgun season to a screeching (or hacking) halt.

Managed to hit the woods three times within the two-week stretch. And the last part I pretty much tossed in the towel. If you can't be quiet, why bother? Mr. Bigs knows the difference between a human cough and an animal one.

The title is appropos because I have now declared myself the "paginator in black" since I've been moved back into the sports department. Following along with a sequence in "Walk The Line": "What's all this black stuff? Are you going to a funeral?" "Maybe I am," is my response because it's going to be my own if I stay in this undermanned department.

So for now, I will only wear a "suit of black" while at work.

The only rainbow may be the opening of muzzleloader season -- today, actually. It is a rather righteous season here in Michigan. Runs from Dec. 1 to Dec. 17. Personally, I like an archery break in between rifle and muzzleloader. Allows for the woods to quiet somewhat. But I can't argue with two weeks of hunting with ye olde smokepole.

And I have a need for redemption after my debacle of a year ago. The very snafu where my buddy Walt pushed a nice 8-point right into my shooting lane with a perfect drive only to have me discover that I hadn't re-loaded my smokepole prior to re-entry into our killing fields of Ingham County.

We will be checking our ramrods twice this year. Ho, ho, ho.