This time of year there are some things I've come to expect: getting out to enjoy the crisp cold air, the rush of holiday shopping, and getting Christmas carols stuck in my head. Last year, I was at home and couldn't quite shake The 12 Days Of Christmas. I stood in the kitchen finishing the last bars "...and a partridge in a pear tree…" when my daughter rounded the corner. "DAD," she exclaimed, mortified, "stop singing!" Once her level of embarrassment returned to regular dad-status she looked at me and asked, "What even is a partridge anyway?"
Ruffed Grouse
