Nothing tells you that you’re living the country life more than gunshots ringing in your lower pasture during dinner.
I jumped. Chris looked at me. I jumped again as the next shot rang out. I rushed to open the door to the deck even though I knew full well what was going on. A week or so ago a neighbor, Michael, had driven down the lane to our farm and talked to Chris’s dad about the wild pigs – informing that someone in the area had taken a hit out on them and asked if it was okay for him to hunt them on our property.
We already knew about the pigs. They’ve mucked up a beautiful area across the creek from our house that we call “the park”. With the bedroom windows open we can hear them at night. One recent day I was driving down the first blacktop leading away from our farm, and passed a neighbor’s cattle that were followed by two horses. Then I thought I saw Martha, our fat little dog! As I got along side the fence I realized it wasn’t Martha (who couldn’t have beat me there anyway) but a small wild pig!
Have you ever seen these beasts? (not Martha – who I have posted photos of) Several years ago I was alone at the farm and a huge wild boar, a razorback, came running through the east pasture – across the lane from me. I was weeding in the first lavender field and was so startled that I started yelling at it! Then our dogs (an earlier batch – plus one current) took off after it! I was horrified by my actions and petrified of what the boar would do to my dogs! (Weird things like this happen when I’m left alone on the farm. Did I ever tell you about the time the bulls got in a fight and tore down three gates on my watch? Remind me to sometime.)
Back to the shots…I opened the back door and the shots were loud, then I heard the guys calling out to each other about another big one. By this time I’m totally freaked out. I suggest to Chris that we try to bring Martha inside so they didn’t mistake her for a pig. She was on the front porch, per usual. When he opened the door and tried to entice Martha inside, the other two dogs sauntered right in – but not Martha. Ugh. So he ushered them back outside and said that he didn’t really think Martha would leave the porch with the shooting going on.
That was almost two hours ago. It’s getting dusky now. Chris has gone over to feed the dogs at the old farmhouse. I’m betting he’s taken the tractor across the creek to see what carnage was wrought in our park.
I’m still freaked out.
var gaJsHost = ((“https:” == document.location.protocol) ? “https://ssl.” : “http://www.”);
var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker(“UA-xxxxxx-x”);