There I was, in the kitchen minding my own business, putting away groceries that I just brought home from Wal-Mart. I looked out the window facing the back yard and what did I see? An intruder! Sneaking along the edge of the yard along the fence line, taking time to look back towards the house every few steps, this was obviously a recon mission. It was only a juvenile, but any ground hog found in my yard is considered a target of opportunity. I quickly ran back to the closet and pulled out my trusty Marlin .22 Magnum rifle (I know, it’s not a handgun, but I just don’t feel comfortable shooting the .223 Striker in the yard). Popping in the magazine and quietly chambering a round, I sneak around the end of the house with as much stealth as a short fat man can possibly muster. As I approach the corner of the garage, I peek into the back yard to locate the target. Right where he was when I saw him out the kitchen window. I eased the rifle up, rested against the downspout, and gently squeezed the trigger. I was pleased to see him perform the death flop. I opened the bolt to remove the empty case and head back inside, but I noticed something over by the brush pile. What is that? Yep, his brother came out of hiding to see what all the commotion was about. I quickly closed the bolt on another round and took careful aim. At the crack, another twitching body lay in the grass. I was able to rest easy last night, knowing my yard and the septic system that lay beneath, were once again safe from invasion by little furry critters.
Pulling out my driveway this morning, I noticed a mangled carcass along the edge of the road. Looks like Momma didn’t make it across in time. Too bad, I was looking forward to doing battle….
reakin
