The Roster.

I've decided to dedicate the next few posts to introducing my friends. Collectively, we're known as the Harding Boys. You may have heard of us, but it's more than likely you haven't. Actually, if you know us, it's due to the fact that you've either kicked us out of your backyard because we were skipping Royal Wulffs over the huge pet brown sitting under the cutbank of the creek running along the edge of your property, or possibly because you saw one of us plucking beers out of the cooler in the back of your truck when you were headed up the hill from the river for lunch, maybe it was the wake from our boat that ruined your picturesque dawn throwing poppers and hoppers to smallmouths on a hot July night, maybe we threw up in your bunk at deer camp, maybe we shot more ducks than you in the rain last November and maybe our mouths are just too loud for you. Maybe it's just that we're too long-winded.

The Harding Boys. Full throttle in the wide open outside all the time. And I've never met anyone more passionate about the outdoors than the friends that I have to put up with everytime I step out into Penn's Woods. So I'm going to introduce you to all of them, provided that if you do run into one of these characters in any of your future outdoor sporting endeavors, you'll at least know how to address them when you find one sitting in your stand on the first morning of buck.

And without further adieu, here is the roster, in no particular order because that's basically how we all address life anyway--in no particular order.