Oh, where do I start? Maybe with a spoiler alert. If you are politically correct, don't like guns, dislike people who eat meat, and put the needs of animals above people.......well, then you may not want to read this. And the farm life is certainly not for you. Period. But this city slicker girl turned Farm Chick is branching out into new and unexplored territory. And only trembling a little bit. Ok. Maybe more than a little bit.
I wish I had pictures of my first hunting encounter last week. giggle.......actually, nothing happened.....to the groundhog, that is. But a minor change occurred in me, to me while attempting to rid my garden of a veggie eating machine.......a big, fat, furry groundhog.
It was probably 2 months ago while the weather was still quite chilly that I first saw my nemesis. He was low to the ground and lying in wait under Joel's truck parked out in the lane between the house and the barn. At first I thought he was a really fat brown cat. And then as I walked toward the truck he skedaddled out of there and headed to the huge rocks of the bluff and vanished out of sight. Duh! We're not living in Pinellas County any longer......it wasn't a cat, it was a critter, a varmint. Silly me, I thought it would be a one time chance meeting with the local wildlife. I'd soon find out differently.
Once you put in weeks of back breaking labor starting a new garden, you get kinda protective of it. Can you feel my pain? Me and my family are supposed to be eating those luscious organic veggies that I so lovingly placed in the ground, seed by seed, plant by plant. Not some big 'ole hairy groundhog. Did you know that a ground hog can consume 1/3 his weight daily in vegetation? Yup! Little piggy! How do I know that? I looked it up, of course!
So back to my hunting story. Last week Jeremy was at work and Joel had gone to town for a while. I was alone and noticed an animal moving around on the field below the main garden. After grabbing my binoculars I realized it was the groundhog, sneaking his way up the slope toward the garden. Without a fence to protect the garden I've become a bit protective of it myself and check on it a couple of times a day. And now I had an intruder! Yikes! What should I do?
Suck it up, Farm Chick, suck it up. I took a deep breath and grabbed the loaded .22 rifle and stealthily walked toward the back door. Our land is so cleared out that any wildlife on the land can see us coming hundreds of yards away. Most times I can hardly get a photo of the wildlife here, even using a zoom lens because they get spooked as I approach them and run or fly away. And our back doors have the farm-like charm of squeaking as they open and close. Not so good for trying to evade the enemy.
I slipped on my shoes and gently and s-l-o-w-l-y opened and closed the two doors between me and the outdoors. Whew! So far, so good. Mr. Groundhog was still happily munching his way around the foliage. Now what? Images I've recently seen on tv of real hunters creeping around Kodiak Island, Alaska popped in my head. Ok, crouch, walk quietly and slowly. Our land is not flat and I was able to use that to my advantage as I tried to close the distance between me and my prey. I crouched down as low as I could (with my bulging disc complaining the whole time) and snuck another 50 yards closer. By now I was feeling pretty good about emulating what I saw on tv.
Victory! He still had not taken notice of me yet. But I had at least another 100 yards between us and I know I'm not that good of a shot with a .22 at that distance. I waited until Mr. Groundhog turned his back to me to munch on some sweet clover and I was able to close the gap another 25 yards. By now I was almost to our ancient oak tree that stands near the barn. A few more minutes of patiently waiting for his back to be turned allowed me the advantage of reaching the cover that the tree trunk that would provide for me.
Ok, Now what? I knew this was probably about as close as I was going to get without him noticing me. Shooting at a stationary target during target practice is one thing. Shooting at a small moving animal over 50 yards away is another. Yes, I know I said he was big, but when you look down the barrel of your gun he looks pretty danged small. And I had never shot at a living object before. Ever. Never. Hmmmmm......
Now I was hiding my body behind the lovely oak, trying to slow my breathing down so my hand wouldn't shake. Let the contemplating begin. Could I really shoot a living breathing animal? What would I do if I just wounded him and had to track him down to put a final kill shot in him? These were the things going thru my mind as I stood in a Fresh Produce dress (my "uniform"), in slip on shoes, with a rifle up to my shoulder. No bra on, no make up, my hair in a pony tail, sweating while I figured out what to do next.
And then the UPS guy drove his brown panel truck up past our farm and I got the giggles. What a sight I must have been. I really hope he didn't see me standing there, hugging up against the tree, sweating, rifle up at my cheek, short dress flowing in the breeze. Oh, my. Not exactly a picture of Southern Gracious Living, is it? Ok, it was do or die time. Make up your mind, Debbie.
So I took another deep breath, and slowly let is out. I eased my gun and body around the right side of the tree. Leaning against the sturdy oak..... hoping for a solid base from which to shoot.....slowly and quietly I once again raised the rifle to my shoulder. I looked down the barrel and did my best to carefully aim as I waited for Mr. Groundhog to give me a side shot. At this point I needed all the help I could get and a broadside shot gave me the most opportunity to take him down. I needed to do one last mental check that I was really and truly ready to take this life. One more slow exhale and I gently pulled on the trigger and....
BAM! I actually shot at him! And he ran. All the way back to his little den hidden somewhere deep in our bluff rocks. And I trembled a little. And I giggled. And then I looked down in the valley to see our neighbors looking up at our farm to see what the ruckus was all about. And then I nervously giggled some more. Of course I missed him!
It was a couple of hours before Joel came home so I could tell him the whole story. By then I had calmed down and was starting to feel a little proud of myself for not being scared, for taking action to defend what is ours, and for taking one more step toward a different type of self reliance I have never known in my previous 60 years. I think this is a good start.
Ready for the next time,
Debbie
P.S.
I recently discovered Mr. Groundhog has a wife and at least 2 adolescents living with him. Oh, man.
