Friday, July 10, 2009

Nine Words I Never Dreamed I'd Utter

Me: {walking calmly into the living room whilst my hubby was trying to relax for a moment}

"I just shot a woodchuck through the mudroom screen!"

Doug: Coming fully alert as soon as he saw the loaded rifle in my hand....." YOU WHAT???"

Actually I think the FIRST thing I said was, "How do you get the bullets out of this thing??" I couldn't get the cartridge out. Poor Doug was like... huh? Last thing he knew I was giving Jacob a bath, insisting he rest for a few minutes, and there I am with a crazed look in my eye, adrenaline running through my veins, asking him how to unload the usually-UNloaded gun!

So here's the story:

I was giving Jacob a bath. He likes to play for a while, so I was just gazing out the window. I happened to notice a woodchuck coming out of its hole by the barn. I was temporarily devoid of my senses as I thought, I wonder if I could shoot that thing? You see, they dig up my yard {which is a health hazard for me because I'm already off balance!}, they eat my flowers {don't we ALL want the world to be a more beautiful palce?} and they destroy my fruit trees {not only taking food from out of the mouth of my child but also undermining our efforts to save the planet!}. Therefore, Doug usually ends up with a tally sheet of woodchuck kills on the fridge every year.

So, I'm looking at the woodchuck, conjuring up the devastation it causes, and something quite primal rises to the surface (probably the steroids...OH MY GOSH!!!! ROID RAGE!) I go to the closet, grab the gun, grab the ammo (from a separate area of course), rip the slide back to put a round in the chamber, and sneak into the mudroom.

Now I know from past experience that if you open the front door the little buggers hear it and scamper back into their hole. SO...I did just what Doug would have...HAS done....in the past: I put the end of the barrel right up to the screen, lined the little furbeast up in my crosshairs, and squeezed.

Nothing. Oops. Safety still on.

Take the safety off, barrel to screen, lined the little furbeast up in my crosshairs, and "Phht." (Well, it IS only a .22)!! It disappeared, but I didn't know if I got it or not, because it was in long grass, and still right by it's hole.

So back to Doug on the couch.
Me: Go see if I got it!
Doug: You go see.
Me: Eeewwww, are you kidding?
Doug: {rolling eyes a bit} Fine.

So I finish getting Jacob's bath, get him out, and glance out the window again. I see Doug walking up the steps with his gloves on, so I knew right away that I got it.

I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt. I had become what I once had feared....
I was a redneck.

And somehow, oddly proud of it.

{Hey, at least I didn't holler "yeeeeee-haw! when I shot!}

So now The Mighty Hunter must share his tally space on the frig...Doug 1, Me 1, and Moose, 2. Well he IS a hunting dog, and he IS outside way more than either of us!

2 comments:

Young Wife said...

That is so great! Too funny.

Joanna said...

Bwhahaha!! You go, girl!

Doug can now brag about his wife - not only can she punt a chicken across the yard, but she can shoot the hair off a woodchuck too.