I was out at the airport today to help a friend work on his KR2 when we realized that the weather was pretty darned good for flying.
When he got to a point where he didn't need my help, down I went to pull Babette out of the hangar and into the air.
So here I am, flying a small route around the aerodrome, well away from the front, when I feel it. I'm not alone. Looking around, up, and behind me, I'm shocked to see a Folke Wulf 149D at my eight o'clock, 1500 feet above and about half a mile off, stalking.
His paint scheme pretty much just like this:
It's intuitive!
A gallant salute (he had no ammo, so I spared him), and we went our separate ways.