(UWPI, March 8, 2012) During our recent visit to England and Hartley Boats, we had occasion to spend a lot of time with Richard Hartley. A gracious host indeed! One afternoon Richard invited me to a game of pool on a table we happened upon. He said why not bet five dollars on the game.  Me, having spent a lot of my teen years in the pool hall, said, "Why not?" I very shortly left the pool table owing Mr. Hartley five dollars. He said, "No matter. You can get me back tomorrow at the shooting range." Since I shoot clay targets all the time, I said, "Why don't we double down?' He jumped at it. Hmmm?

We began by shooting skeet which was his game. The loser would be the one having missed the most birds at the end of our shooting. I left the skeet range down by seven targets but knew I could get that back when we moved on to the sporting clays range. That's my game. Things were going rather well and I was within a target or so of pulling ahead near the end. That's when disaster struck!

Richard was shooting at a target that was high and quite far away and I noticed a small songbird out there above his target. Upon a closer look it was, I am sure, a rare Yellow-Breasted Larch Finch, a member of the Thrush family. One of the last of England's native birds. I had just read an article about them on the flight over. The last one having been sighted just before the bombings of WW II.

Richard hit the clay target but at the same time I saw the little bird shudder and then waver in his flight. The poor little waif tried to gain altitude but the lead shot in his tiny body was just too much. He struggled on for a few seconds before he began spiraling to the ground like a helicopter with one rotor blade broken. Richard of course never noticed any of this as he was so consumed with thoughts of taking another fifteen dollars from me. I myself was so upset and distraught over the demise of the poor little fellow that I missed the last four clay targets. Mr. Hartley of course, jumped on that and never missed another target.

Respectfully, Nick Seraphinoff  (United Wayfarer Press International correspondent)

It was a tremendous trip for Nick and myself (Mary & Lina can attest).  Our host, Richard Hartley, was very gracious and entertaining.  I have never met a man with so much zeal. Back to the story as it unfolded It all started off with Richard's snooker table.  This table is enormous, to say the least, with its own room.

Richard carefully planned his attack on the unsuspecting Nick.  With a simple statement, "Want to play a game and bet?" Nick - hook, line and sinker: "Sure, why not?"  I took the approach that this is something I don't know and don't want to be embarrassed by my performance!  Long story short, Nick owed Richard a sum of money.  The next day Richard suggested that Nick make up the damage by going skeet shooting. Nick loves to shoot and thought it would be a shoo-in.

The story continues with both Richard and Nick in fierce competition. Both are expert marksmen.  (I could not even hit the broad side of a barn!) Then the worst possible thing happened. A rare bird's life was lost - sooo sad. In the end, poor Nick lost again and so did the bird.

Later that evening, Richard announced his victory to the entire hotel. A banner was produced by a beaming Richard (l) and Nick (middle) as a good sport. In the end, the only loser was that poor rare bird, now extinct!

Thanks Richard, for being such a gracious host. Peter.