Early June, I look out my downhill side of the house to see a
deer in my garden! Running out the front door, I grab a broom and go yelling. "Get out of my garden!"
As I rounded the last corner of my house, she was there. She has not moved a step since I saw her last!
How dare this cow not be afraid of me.
Waving the broom about like a mad woman. I opened the gate and ran straight to her. Yelling anything that I could think of. She slowly trouted deeper downhill to the terraced mountain garden below.
Point of reference I am disabled and a woman and 65. I was not going to win chasing it. Hell, I have never even made it to the bottom of the garden as it is too steep for me.
I returned with a Daisy
BB handgun with
CO2 left over from the last owner of this retreat.
That cow was still there in the lower garden. Taking clear aim, I squeed off a shot. The BB bounced off her hind end.
Shocking myself, the BB hit her right where I aimed. Plus, seeing the glint of that tiny ball so far away in the sun was excellent too.
She glared as if to say, "What was that?"
She did not even walk a single step.
I took a second shot at her, again in the body. This time it strikes her toward the front near her heart. Now she slowly walks to the next terrace level downhill and stops. Daring me.
I gave her one more to the neck as her body was no longer visible.
The doe ran one more level down and behind a bush. All Done. I have solved all my problems for the day. Plus, I can now say I have shot a deer 3 times! Hunting seems to drop dead easy.
Yep, I would have made an excellent hunter.
The next day while checking the Garden
fence, I saw my
apple tree in the garden had
every apple pulled off and a few of its branches too. 2 dozen late spring apples lay on the ground. Not one was eaten. The Bitch is pissed! You may assume I am talking about the doe. But both are correct.
When I returned from the mess, I saw her lying under my deck, cooling out in the shade, watching me. To my surprise, the does around here have NO FEAR of Humans!
I am starting to catch on.
Where are the real hunters?