Porter made a bonfire in the fire circle -- filling a cardboard box with sticks and setting it alight. It was a cool evening, but the aggressive spring mosquitos pushed me too close to the fire and smoke. My naked ankles taunted and tempted them. Porter methodically sharpened a maple stick to a trident of perfect tines, and he and Nico toasted marshmallows. A woodcock whuttered rapidly by in the dimness with the cats in futile pursuit.