Last Saturday found me and Natasha on Stamford Connectcut's Shipan Peninsula for our niece Sophia's third birthday party. As my sister and her husband ran off to Carvel for an ice cream cake and a few more carrots for the suburban mandate that is crudité, Natasha and I took Sophia down to the waterfront for a bit of romping around in the muck of low tide. As Sophia gathered kelp and seaweed under the somewhat watchful eye of Natasha, I managed to fall into beachcomber mode looking for any natural wonder or man made detritus I could find. As Sophia's equally keen eye for the unusual spied miniature shells and ladybugs, I began to find rather ornate and water-worn sherds of black pottery. As my Indiana Jones mind kicked into full gear, I wondered to myself, "what could this be"? Ancient Piquot pots broken in the bay as a part of some long forgotten fishing ritual? Evidence of a Pre-Columbian of Viking settlement, or just some industrial age garbage amongst the other crap that lines our nation's once pristine shores?
After a bit of thinking from my bird brain it came to me, these were broken pieces of clay pigeons that were released and mercilessly shot out of the sky by some shotgun-toting Connecticut Yankee. Mystery solved.