I hate hunting season. Deer are running all over the place scared for their lives like the one that ran across the road in front of me last night. It cut between two trucks on the side of the road and across to the other side, so I can pretty much bet whatever hunters were in that truck scared it out.
Then you’ve got the hunters. You’ve people like my dad who keep it simple and “out of the way”. He either heads down state to the hunting camp or he hunts in his own pasture where he plants clover to lure them. Then you’ve got people like the guys my Grandpa lets hunt behind the house…the ones who make me want to scream! The stipulation is they can hunt on my Grandpa’s land if
A. they park out of the way and
B. they try to always let one of us know when they’ll be going into the woods.
There’s one older guy who never does either. He always parks his truck smack in the middle of my driveway or he’s even been known to pull into my driveway just enough to get his truck out of the road. When he does that he blocks the whole driveway, and there have been many times we’ve had to park at my Grandparent’s house because we can’t get in our own driveway. Then the guy never lets anybody know he’s here, and he’s bad about hunting way too close to the houses.
I’ve mentioned it to my Grandpa before, but whenever he checks the guy is never that close to the house. Saturday morning I looked out my bathroom window and saw the guy sitting against a tree at the edge of the wood line. If I can see the guy from my house he’s too close, so I started snapping photos. When I showed them to my Grandpa he was pissed, and he told me he was going to have a talk with the guy.
Apparently he did because this morning the guy decided to be a dick. He beat on my door for what seemed like 10 minutes causing the dog to go into a frenzy until I drug myself out of my warm bed and across the cold house to see what was going on. Then he made a smart ass comment and asked me how far away from the house is comfortable for me.
I said hell you’ve got 200 acres to work with. Be smart about it, and don’t put others in danger just because you’re too lazy to walk any farther. If you can’t walk far enough into the woods to be away from the houses, maybe you don’t need to be hunting. I should have gave him some orovo diet pills and told him to pop a few so he can lose some of that weight. Then he couldn’t claim he’s too much of a “fat boy” to walk very far.
He turned around and walked off all huffy and puffy, and I yelled after him to please move his truck out of the middle of my driveway and either into the pasture or to the side of the garage.
My Grandpa had been working in the yard on the side of my house, so he came walking up when he heard me yell after the guy. He asked what was going on and the guy goes “Your Granddaughter’s a bitch. You better do something about that right quick.” Then he got in his truck and made a show out of having to move it.
I don’t want someone like that hunting here. I sure as hell don’t like knowing old grumpy guy has a gun in his hands. If he going to get all huffy and puffy over the fact that I want him to respect our homes and keep it safe, I don’t want him around here at all. I’m having a serious talk with my Grandma today. She’ll put a stop to it.
