I am afraid of guns....always have been. And I have never wanted them in the house. My dear husband has always respected that desire, even when we moved to the country and most everyone out here has various types of arsenals. So, to ease his inner hunter, he purchased a B.B. rifle.
Out here in the country, you have all kinds of hunting of all kinds of varmits. From huge deer to sweet little quail and doves. During the various hunting seasons the local men love to get together early in the morn to share coffee, talk about their crops, and talk hunting. (I think there is a good deal of "backy " chewing going on as well.) My husband loves these gatherings and always tells me the local news when he returns home. (He has made many friends that he admires and respects in this community)
Well, I have told you about my fear of guns and the gatherings and hunting. Now I am going to tell ya'll about the mice.
During the first two weeks that we lived in this house we captured and killed over twenty mice. This is a relatively new house too and I never dreamed that we would have to deal with such a problem. (Our old house that we moved from was around ninety years old and we only had about two mice a year !) After those two weeks , I finally called the county Agr. Extension office and talked to an agent about how to control this plague of rodents. What was his response!? He laughed and said, "Mamam, this is the country,and you are in their territory !" "Everybody out here has to deal with this on a seasonal basis."
Great I thought. So, the quail barns and the corn field and the wheat and hay fields were homes for mice when the weather is nice. Sure enough every fall and spring ,here they would come. For about two weeks it would be a real battle setting traps and putting out mouse poison.
One night during invasion season I was sitting in the comfy living room recliner. This position has a clear view of the kitchen. And there was David sitting in a chair with the pantry doors open, his faithful yellow lab (Her name is Blue, David always wanted a dog named Blue) staring alertly at the pantry. David had his B.B. gun pointed through the open doors and Blue was practically on "point" . Ping went his rifle, and David proudly announced ,"Got it.....fetch Blue". Well, Blue fetched, and with tail proudly swaying surrendered that dead as a door nail mouse to her master! My mighty hunter turned towards me with his trophy dangling from his fingers, his rifle tucked under his arm and his faithful dog sitting beside him. "I got it !" he proudly said.
So if any of you hunters want to take my beloved hubby out for some real hunting, I am all for it. And yes, I have told him that it is fine with me if he buys himself a real rifle! And I also would rather us use traps instead of "rifle" method.
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