Native American

I am a very guilty party. Politically correct types would call me guilty of conduct unbecoming the top dog at a suburban Atlanta money management firm. Frankly, I care less. Some big wigs lunch at the Capital Grill, others at Bones or the myriad of eateries around Atlanta that cater to the power lunch crowd. Me? I get into the Carhartt's and go check traps. Beaver traps, bobcat traps, fox traps, coyote traps. Lunch is trail mix and a Gatorade. It's close to Christmas in Dixie and there's fur to be had in the pines.