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Posted by Darreld Walton on Dec 10 2004
Personally, I recommend the challenges posed by the sport of Rifle Fishin'. Not nearly as excitin' as a stick of dynamite in a deep hole, nor as productive, but bagging a rooster King on 'lite' tackle is a heckuva lot more rewardin'. There's folks in these parts who go a bit overboard with their tackle. The latest rage here is a stainless/synthetic .375, with a laser, generally casting from a blind on an overhanging branch. Personally, I prefer a lite rod, something along the lines of a .22 single shot, and only a couple times have I had to deal with a wounded buck.
As to squirrels, well, I never figgered them fer much more'n a fuzzy-tailed rat, with about the same manners. Had one get stuck in the downspout of the house last year. Nuthin' but his tail hangin' out the bottom end of it, and him raisin' all kinds of ruckus in there. Anyhow, feelin like I needed to do a good deed, I reached down and give a tug, and out pops Rocky, but instead of bein' grateful, the little ba$tard swung up and bit my pinky finger! The wife wondered what had got into me, seein me runnin around the yard, squealin' like a little girl, and wavin' that little brown ball of fur around, till he finally let go.
There's a family of 'em that live in the trees across the street. For some reason, they figure it's good sport to run over, then run around my yard on top of the fence, which really infuriates Buddy, the mutt, who resides with and tolerates the wife an me. He'll keep pace with them, but he always forgets about the corners, and there's a hole in the fence back there where he's banged his head into it enough times to bust the boards. I think he learned it by chasing parked cars, but I digress. The neighbors have an apple tree that overhangs our fence, and the buggers will circumnavigate the yard and then perch in the tree. The neighbor's Lab don't like 'em none, neither, and it's sometimes amusing to see him ten foot up in the first crotch of that tree, with the squirrels just out of reach, chatterin' and teasin' him. He'll bark, they'll chatter, an he knows he ain't a gonna get 'em. Then ya see him turn his head to the house all pittiful lookin', waitin fer the humans to help him out. Just happened that last winter, I stayed home from work with a turrible case of the brown bottle flu, and the dogs vs. squirrel battle had gone on for about an hour and a half. Slid the back door open, and took out poppa squirrel with one shot from a Daisy Red Rider at about 30 feet. But then, he fell right across the neighbor's tailgate on his pickup, and hung there just inches above 'Al the Treehugger's bumper sticker about savin whales or electin' John Kerry or some such. Mrs. Walton couldn't figure out what the neighbor screamed about, but I knew.....
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