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.